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My Marines

Part 1

human Lyle Wainfleet x reader x human Miles Quaritch.

Summary: (Y/N) loves her job on pandora as well as the people she spends her time with but after so many years things start to get a little bland, till someone comes along and starts to spice things up.

This will be a multiple part series starting with human lyle and miles and moving to Recom later.

Enjoy

Warning: smut, little bit of fear, shower sex, bruising, begging, manhandling, teasing, shower fluff, swearing, taking care of injuries.

Pandora has always been a beautiful place. The flowers, the tall trees and the culture especially. But unfortunately for me, my job didn't involve exploring the beauty of Pandora

I sat in the med bay, bored out of my mind writing report after report and waiting for someone to come either bleeding out or to come with a welcome distraction. And by someone I mean stupid, reckless Marines who think it was just a dandy idea to shoot at an angry Thanator or stepped into the territory of a hammerhead titanothere thinking they where man enough to take the ginormous creator head on. One the bright side its never boring when they are around.

But even when I was bored out of my mind with reports I still loved my job. And doing what I do gives me some perks as well, like being good friends with a lot of the Marines. Saving their lives hand put me pretty high on their list of people they like most, and on a planet pretty much run by Marines that was a very good thing. But I am also good friends with the scientists, even Grace. In fact I think it's pretty safe to say I'm the only human she does like, or at least tolerates.

It was kind of funny how Marines and scientists alike would come to me just to chat when they were bored and often complained about each other. I was usually the first person to know any gossip and it certainly kept things interesting. Especially because aside from the few medics that the Marines had in the field I was one of three medically trained doctors.

I was really shocked when I first came here only to realize I was one of only three human doctors in total on Pandora. But it did make sense.

Pandora was a whole new terrain from Earth and had new sicknesses, infections and poisons we had very little knowledge of. Not only that but me and my other two doctors I 'worked' with that I never actually see but we are also the only people who can take care of both humans and Na'vi. Very few people wanted to do the extra years of med school just to come here. But even with all the extra training I almost never had to treat an Avatar. With the low gravity here and the Avatar's very durable bodies they never really got seriously injured. But that never really bothered me, the Avatars were expensive, if I was to slip up I would be screwed.

One of the only real cons to my job is when I lose a patient. I almost always went crying to Grace only for her to say "They are stupid Marines, they probably died because they were probably being stupid." She always did have a way with words.

And while sometimes she was right it didn't make it hurt any less. But I always did try to help prevent very preventable wounds or life threatening injuries by talking to some of the Marines who came to visit but they didn't really listen. Always saying something along the lines of 'please doc, we're strong enough to handle anything.' The muscles heads that they are.

I couldn't help but laugh a little at the thought. They really were stupid in a silly way sometimes.

"What's so funny?"

Speak of the devil. I look up from my desk to see Corporal Lyle Wainfleet, one of my 'regulars' as I like to call them, walk over to my desk where I was typing up reports as I reminisce.

"Just something funny Grace told me."

He rolls his eyes at the mention of her name but asks anyway.

"And what's that kiddo?"

I narrowed my eyes at him a little. I never did like the nickname but most of the Marines seemed to call me that. For some it made sense. I was only in my early thirties but if you subtract the six years in cryo sleep(which I did) I was in my mid twenties while most here are in their late thirties and up.

For example Colonel Miles Quaritch was fifty one, but he was one of the few marines that I was closest with, like lyle, who liked to get creative with the nicknames every now and again even bordering on flirting. However kiddo/kid was still the nickname I hated most especially from Lyle. Lyle wasn't much older than me but he still called me kiddo pretty often.

"The regular. thinking about how stupid and reckless you Marines are."

This time it was his turn to narrow his eyes, but it was playful.

"Well then, I guess you don't want the surprise I came to give you."

I raise an eyebrow at him suspiciously.

"Surprise?"

"That's right, but if you're laughing about how reckless and stupid me and my guys are I guess you don't want to know."

I quickly stand up and move around my desk to stare at him. He was about 6'0 and my ass only being 5' 8 only coming up to his upper chest it was kind of heard to be taken seriously.

I seemed to be the smallest person on this entire planet. Grace was 5'11 and she was the closest to my height so it was pretty clear I was the shortest person on base.

"Tell me, Wainfleet."

He looked down at me with a wolfish smirk.

"It'll cost ya."

I sigh.

"What?"

His smirk widens as he leans down closer to my face. I stare up at him confused. He didn't say anything, clearly wanting me to figure out what he wanted myself. I rack my brain to think of anything he may want or like that I would have.

It may be kind of odd considering I spend so much time with the Marines but I don't know much personal info about any of them so without any hard knowledge on his personal interests I didn't really have any info to go on, but that smirk had me on my toes so to speak.

"Rations?"

He shakes his head.

"A favor?'

He seems to stop and consider it for a second, only to shake his head again. He leans closer, our nosies almost touching. Then it clicks.

"No."

"Come on sweetness, it doesn't cost ya anything."

The nickname makes a shiver run up my spine. Lyle was a good friend, though I'm sure he would never use that word. It felt weird. But at the same time if he was asking for a kiss this surprise was something good. And to be fair I knew he was just trying to embarrass me, so the way I saw it, the best way to get back at him was to seem completely unfazed. And the shocked look I pictured on his face only spurred me on.

Without a second thought I got on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. It wasn't what he wanted, I knew that, but in all fairness he wasn't specific on where I had to kiss him.

I step back a little and smirk up at him. He wasn't as bewildered as I wanted him to be but he was still a little shocked. I wanted to kiss his forehead but he was too tall even with me on my toes so his cheek was the only thing I could reach, but I suppose for a moment it must have seemed like I was about to kiss his lips.

I stepped back and gave him a look that said, 'so what's this surprise.' But he didn't let me step back very far.

"oh no you don't."

His smirk came back to his lips as he stepped forward, his arms wrapping around me tightly. His face was playful as he started to close the distance between our lips. My arms were pinned to my sides so I wasn't able to move my hands over his large muscle bound arms to cover my mouth so I turned my head to the side causing him to kiss my cheek.

He leans back again, his face a little bewildered but his smirk comes back just as quick as it left. He keeps leaning down to kiss me and I keep moving my head out of the way. Eventually he gets annoyed enough to speak up.

"For god's sake (Y/n),  just gimme a kiss."

I smile up at him, finally facing him again.

"I did~."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"A proper kiss."

I decided it was fun playing with him like this. His face was too good to not keep going.

"Say please~"

He growled, actually growled.

Before I could do anything his right arm wraps tightly around my middle, pressing me into his muscle bound body, moving under my arms and his left hand gripping my hair at the base of my skull, forcing my head where he wants it to be as he dips me down. Kissing me deeply.

I had been kissed before, horrible dates with even worse guys who couldn't take a hint and just leave on Earth but I had never been kissed like this. I gasped into the forceful kiss inadvertently letting his tongue into my mouth.

He keeps me off balance the whole time. Making it impossible for me to push away even with my arms semi free. But I wasn't sure if I even wanted to anymore. It felt so good to be kissed like this. To be kissed without any control. But in the back of my head I knew he probably just hadn't had a good fuck in a while and this kiss was just a bit of a release. My brain was telling me it was nothing more than a horny Marine getting it out of his system. But my lips were telling me something else.

My hands made fists on his tight uniform shirt. I could clearly feel his strength. His muscles pressed against my hands making my knees weak. After a few moments in an intense lip lock I was starting to run out of breath.

I pushed against his chest once I couldn't hold my breath any more. Lyle lifts me up disconcerting our lips but he doesn't let go, his hand that was gripping my head goes to my waist with his other hand. His lips still lightly brushing on mine as I pant trying to catch my breath. My hands still on his chest and out foreheads practically touching, I could start to feel the heat rise up in my cheeks and my shoulders.

Once I regain myself I look up into his deep blue eyes trying to figure out what just happened.

I shake my head, there was no point dwelling on it.

"So, what's this surprise?"

His chuckles a little, the noise making my knees shake. it was like I was hearing his chuckle with new ears after that kiss.

"New meat came in today."

I roll my eyes at his choice of words. He and all the other Marines always called new comes: meat.

I raise my eyebrows in question waiting for him to continue.

'You have a new assignment."

I look up at him confused. What does a new assignment and new Marines and maybe a scientist or two coming to Pandora have anything to do with each other or a surprise that was worth the most intimate kiss of my life.

"Go talk to the Colonel, trust me, you'll like it."

I stood there for a second, making sure I understood what I just heard. I didn't really know what to say. I didn't work directly under the Colonel, I wasn't security/military personnel. it was odd for me to go to him for a new assignment.

Once the words really sink in I begin to get a little nervous, Colonel Miles Quaritch was a man who made my knees weak from the second I first saw him when I first came here and Lyle knew it. To be fair I think everyone did. I would always stutter when I spoke to him or take longer to gather my thoughts. I was usually a well spoken woman but with him I was putty.

It got pretty obvious I had a thing for him. At first everyone thought I was just really scared of him, and while I was intimidated I wasn't necessarily scared. But soon enough the blushing started and then it was plain as day. At this point the Colonel himself must have known about my feelings at this point but he was just kind enough not to embarrass me further by mentioning it, which I appreciated.

However he did seem to love to tease me just a little every now and then, sometimes it did seem like flirting but it was probably just my imagination.

I had never been outright about my feelings and I planned to keep it that way. He was a higher up and while I didn't work directly under him he did hold power over me and could make my life a living hell or even fire me.

Lyle still had his hands wrapped around me. I could feel his warm hands on my back through the fabric of my shirt. My hands were still on his chest. I could feel his muscles flex a little with every breath. It made my cheeks ever redder once I realized how long we had been like this. I pushed on his chest a little wanting to make some distance. He loosened his hold on me a little but didn't let me go completely. I was now at arm's length, His hands on my sides. I try to back away completely only for him to tighten his hold on me.

I look up at him only to be greeted with his signature wolfish smirk.

'Where is he?"

I tried to change the subject but I also didn't know where The Colonel  was and he wasn't a man who liked to be kept waiting. Not to mention the curiosity regarding my new assignment.

Lyle didn't say anything for a moment, still just smirking down at me and my red face.

"Come one Lyle, he'll be pissed if I keep him waiting. I like living."

He rolls his eyes and starts to walk over to the door with his hand keeping a firm pressure on the small of my back making me walk with him as he scoffs.

"Oh please, he would never hurt his favorite doctor."

He looks down at me suggestively, I quirk an eyebrow at him. Favorite doctor? I've never even treated him before. Mostly because he wouldn't let me on the rare occasion he did get hurt. I don't think he let anyone, always saying how he could handle the gaping wound on his arm, but in all fairness the next time I saw him his wounds were stitched and well cleaned and dressed.

I Had asked around, wondering if a female doctor just made him uncomfortable and just didn't want to outright say it, but the other two doctors on sight hadn't even seen him or his original wound, but the wound was always well taken care of so I didn't really have any reason to pester him about it. Besides, it was so rare that he got hurt. Being head of security, I imagine he had to do lots of paperwork and manage his soldiers from base.

Not like I would pester him though. The man was a beast, no need to poke the bear. if the bear could take care of himself just fine.

My train of thought was broken when Lyle opens a door to where all the Samson's and other aircraft were held in a hangar larger than life. Including the AMP suits all the Marines loved to death.

Lyle started walking off to one of Samson's hands leaving my person for the first time in several minutes.

'Gotta go sweetness, got a job to do."

Before he leaves he jogs back a little and pecks my lips again. renewing my dark red blush.

He smirks at my tomato red face and runs off before I could yell at him to ask where I needed to go. I had never been in here before and to be fair I had always been shit with directions. Luckily before he was out of my line of sight he pointed to his left.

I follow his finger to the direction where the AMP suits are held. I walk over and go around the 'wall' that separates the Amp suits from the rest of the machinery only to freeze mid step before I run into a guy in a wheelchair.

I gasp for a second and regain my footing before I fall on my ass.

'Sorry, didn't see you."

The guy looks up at me and gives a little smile.

"Don't worry about it, no harm done."

And then he leaves, without another word.

I walk on the gangway where all the Amp suits were lined up and look around for the Colonel. He was also a big fan of the AMP suits and had one of his own he liked to use so I looked around while walking trying to spot him with one of the AMP suits, not really sure what one was his.

As I looked around I could hear a light grunting and clanging sound as I got further down the walkway.

I look over to see the Colonel laying down on a bench press lifting what looked like an insane amount of weight.

I walked over and leaned against the 'door' frame but didn't say anything or do anything to make my presence known aside from just standing there not wanting to interrupt him. Not like I really wanted to.

I watched as his muscles moved under his skin and he pumped the bar up and down. I get into a kind of trance just watching him. I couldn't help imagining what else those arms could hold and I could feel heat come to my cheeks, again.

"Ya know, starin' is rude dearie."

His words bring me back to reality, the nickname taking me by surprise. I blink a few times, he was still lifting the bar up and down not even looking at me. I shake my head a little remembering why I am here.

"Sorry s-sir, I-i didn't want t-to interrupt your r-rep."

His chuckles a little and I only get more red and inwardly roll my eyes at myself for my stutter.

"Well ain't you just a peach."

I try to compose myself by clearing my throat before I speak. The nicknames driving me crazy.

"C-corporal Wainfleet said y-you wanted t-to speak with m-me, sir."

With one final pump he sets the bar on the holder behind him at the end of the benchpress and sits up to look at me. His blue eyes pierced me like ice. He wasn't even glaring or doing anything he was just looking at me but I felt so small under his gaze. Small and helpless.

All the marines had that kind of look, but there was something about the Colonels that was just different.

He stands up and grabs a towel and wipes his face and neck. After tossing it onto the bench press he walks over to where I was standing.

"Walk with me."

He moves past me, making me push my back flush against the door frame and speed walk a little to catch up with him.

"We have a special case that just flew in today. Jake Sully."

I nod at him only to realize he can't see me.

'Yes, s-sir."

He looks over his shoulder when the words leave my lips, smirking a bit.

"He was a Marine in Venezuela on Earth and got pretty banged up. He's stuck in a wheelchair but he is also one of our newest Avatar drivers."

I am silent for a moment, realizing that the guy I almost literally ran into was Sully.

"W-what do I have to d-do with this s-sir?"

We reach what I assume was his AMP suit and he starts to make sure all was right with his machine while continuing.

"Sully is an unforeseen opportunity I plan to utilize. But because of his extensive injuries that leave him wheelchair bound I wonder what negative effects this may have on his Avatar and his ability to do his job.'

I nod in understanding. Depending on how long he had been without the use of his legs he may have to learn to walk all over again in his Avatar body, not being used to being able to use his legs again. But I doubt it would take very long even if he did struggle at first. His avatar body is completely healthy, it might just be an adjustment period for his mind.

"A-and what can I do s-sir? The scientist who g-g-grew the Avatars should be a-able to take care of him just f-fine."

He moved over to a little lift and motioned for me to follow with his finger. I move over and get on the ramp with him. It starts to go up and he moves to get into the AMP suit.

"I understand you don't get to go out much."

I turned my head away and down, a little embarrassed but to be fair almost everyone knew I wanted to go out and explore Pandora but at this point I would be happy just to go out of the base, still in Hells Gates walls just not in the building. It tends to get stuffy after leaving the compound for almost two years. The last time I went out was when they could transfer an injured marine and I had to go into the field. Best three hours of my life.

I nod and the Colonel smirks at my embarrassed face.

"I want you to go out into the field with him, I have stationed him as a guard for Augustine and her team so you will go with them and make sure everything is ship shape and if it's not you will tell me. You will be giving me a daily report on the activity of Sully's Avatar. Understand?"

I nod again Trying to hold in my excitement of being able to go into the forest and explore while both being with my friend and making sure Sully was ok.

"Yes, s-sir."

He could clearly hear my excitement through my stutter and he smirked at me. That kiss I gave Lyle was so worth it, I almost felt like I should kiss him again. I just might.

The Colonel smirked down at me from his now moving and operational AMP suit. Now standing in front of me in the machine instead of beside me.

"You and Augustine's team moves out tomorrow late afternoon, you will meet them here at their Samson. Have fun peach, I'll see ya around."

I saw him wink at me and walk away. I almost choke at the wink. My knees are almost giving out on me. Like I said, he liked to tease occasionally.

The ramp lowers and I run off to find Lyle, after that I had to thank him.

After running around the hangar like a maniac and almost getting run over a few times I finally found him talking to a few other marines.

Without a thought I rush over and go in front of him grabbing his face and yanking him down and kiss him as hard as I could with as much love as I could.

After a few seconds I let his face go, disconnecting our lips and ran to the exit doors waving back at him.

"I owe ya one Lyle."

I ran off not wanting to be made fun of by any of the Marines. Although I figured every Marine in Hells Gate would know about it by morning and be wanting me till the end of time. But damn was it worth it.

Before I made it out the doors I could hear the other Marines Lyle was with whoop at him and laugh.

I didn't stop running once I was out of the doors, I kept running until I reached the barracks. I was so excited I was nearly buzzing.

When I got to my room I was dancing around jumping up and down. I was so excited I could barely hold it in.

Once I calmed down I looked over at the digital clock I had in my room. The clock was in Pandora time. The days here were about thirty-thirty five to thirty hours depending on the time of year and the nights were just as long.

The clock said 20:24, which was equivalent to late noon in Earth time. I decided I would have a shower and then go to bed. I had already been up for close to seventeen hours and even while buzzing with excitement I was pretty tired. I would probably sleep two maybe three more times till I ended up going over to the hanger again.

One of the problems I had with Pandora's days being so long was that sleep was always pretty random unless you had to do something at a specific time. My days and nights were a lot less structured than the scientist and Marines. I treated people when they were injured at any time and  did reports when I had time to. So it was best to clean up and sleep while I could.

When I finally got to the shower I felt the exhaustion hit me full force. It had been a long day full of doing reports but it had a perfect ending. Now I got to enjoy a good shower and go to bed.

Once I grabbed some pjs and my shower bag I made my way over to the communal showers. I didn't have one in my room but the communal showers were actually really nice.

I turned on the water in one of the shower stalls to let it heat up while I stripped. The water always takes a few minutes to heat up enough so that it's not freezing cold.

I walk over to the change rooms to strip. I placed my clothes in a locker, not even bothering to fold them up while I left my towel and fresh pjs on the change room bench until I was done.

The water was perfect when I went back into the shower room, the water not too hot but not very cold. Sometimes the cold temp was nice on really hot and humid days but today was pretty decent so the cold water wasn't as pleasant.

I grab my shampoo and conditioner and start to work the shampoo into my hair. It felt nice to relax after such a long day.

While I was washing my hair I could hear the door to the shower change room opening. Sound always seems to travel easily in the showers.

I shut the nearly see through the shower curtain. Normally I wouldn't close it but I was also usually alone. Around this time no one came to the showers so I just left it open. But when I heard the door opening I shut the curtain for privacy.

Privacy was always a hard thing to find on Hells Gate. But the women on this side of the base were Marines, like Z-dog and Walker and they didn't really care much. Me on the other hand was more than embarrassed to be seen naked.

I was placed on their side of the compound instead of the scientists because I have to treat the Marines so often and the women's rooms were both close to the med bay I was assigned to and the door that led to the flight beck.

The door to the shower room opened and I could hear the padding of heavy feet on the tile floor. I continue to wash my hair, not really paying attention to them, trying to pretend I didn't exist. Giving them and me as much privacy as I could.

I sighed deeply as I could feel my whole body relax even more under the warm water only to yelp as I was shoved into the cold wall of the shower. One big hand pressing between my shoulder blade and one hand grabbing both my wrists and holding them above my head to the wall.

I was about to scream, hoping someone would hear me but the hand on my shoulder blades came to cover my mouth and  a warm set of lips was pressed to the back of my ear along with a heavy, naked body keeping me against the wall. If I wasn't so scared it would have been hot. I pushed hard against the person behind me in an attempt to get him off me. Well, as hard as I could at least. It was kind of hard with my hands above my head.

"Relax, baby girl, It's just me."

Even with the rush of relief my heart felt like it was about to explode. It was beating so fast.

I shove against Lyle again, trying to get his body off me. He was much bigger than me so it didn't affect him very much. At this point you couldn't even call it shoving, it was mostly just me wiggling around helplessly.

Lyle seemed to get tired of my weak attempt to shove him off and pressed my body into the wall even harder, giving me no room to move even an inch.

"Quit moving."

I stop trying to move him off, freezing in place. His voice was harsh and commanding. It was the voice of a Corporal with years of experience. And in all honesty it scared me. I didn't know what to do in this situation. I had been on Pandora for a few years so I hadn't had someone come onto me in several years and no one had even come onto me like this. The uncharted territory scared me. A man with years of military experience and training was shoving me against a cold shower wall and I was completely helpless.

I started to shake, I don't think I have ever been so scared in my life. I had no idea what to do in this situation.

"Shhhh, kiddo. You're ok."

He cooed at me, trying to calm me down. I was holding back tears. I was so freaked out.

Was he mad about what I did in the hanger? Did I embarrass him so bad he decided to come teach me a lesson? What exactly is he going to do to me?

He seemed to notice how I was still shaking, clearly seeing how his words didn't do anything to calm me down.

I heard him sigh, his head moving to rest on my bare shoulder for a second before moving it back up behind my ear. His hot breath went into my ear. It was a harsh contrast to how cold my body was. The water was still running but it wasn't touching me anymore and the tile wall of the shower was very cold. I did have a little relief from Lyle, his body being very warm.

"I'm not going to hurt you baby, just calm down. Breath for me."

I wasn't too sure if I believed him but I also knew Lyle wasn't a liar and freaking out wasn't going to do me any good. If I really want to get out of this I need to calm down first.

I take a few slow deep breaths through my nose, allowing my body to calm even if I was still trembling a little.

"Good girl. Now, I'm gonna take away my hand, when I do you won't scream. Got it?"

I nod a little, clearly not having any other options.

Lyle slowly moves his hand off my mouth and drags it down my side till it stops to rest on my bare hip. giving it a little squeeze. Clearly wanting to comfort me a little.

I let out a shaky breath, resting my forehead on the shower stalls wall. I didn't say anything at first. My brain barely understands the situation.

"W-what-"

I didn't have a chance to say anything before I felt his lips press harder to the back of my ear and move down my neck till he was kissing my shoulder.

"You said you owed me one, beautiful. I'm here to collect~."

I let out another sigh but this time it was out of relief. Finally being one hundred percent sure why he was here and what he wanted. But it didn't make all the fear go away but at least now I wasn't completely ignorant. 

He started to suck on my neck, his hand rubbing lightly up and down my side, sending shivers all over my body. It felt like it was on fire. Not being touched in a while had made me more sensitive to his light touches.

"Th-this wasn't me-exactly what I had in mind, L-Lyle."

He chuckled against my neck. I could feel the vibrations through his chest against my back. The feeling made my knees weak.

"I didn't ask you what you had in mind, did I?"

I yelped as Lyle forced my legs to spread with his foot. Keeping them spread wide with him.

"L-Lyle, y-you can't-- w-e can't"

His whole body became flush with mine. His groin pressed against my ass.

My knees nearly give out from the size of him. He was hard, rock hard. His long shaft running up my ass. I was completely speechless. His hand that was stroking my side moved around my body pressing against my navel, forcing my ass to press harder into his dick.

He groaned in my ear. It had to have been the most erotic sound I had ever heard. It was deep and strong and full of authority.

I could feel a slick start to gather in between my legs as he continued to rut against my ass.

It started to feel so good, but at the same time I was scared. I didn't know what to do when I had no control whatsoever. I was a doctor, I was always in control. The lack of it felt wrong, but it also made me a little hot.

I tug on my hands a little, trying to get them out of his near iron grip but his hand didn't let up. I tug again trying to put as much of my body weight into it as I could but his body was pressed so hard into mine and he was practically holding me up with his hand so I couldn't really do much.

His grip only seemed to get tighter. It didn't really hurt per-se but it definitely didn't feel comfortable but I didn't let up, tugging on my wrists again as much as I could.

I yelp loudly when he tightens his hold so tightly I felt like my wrists would snap. Tot, heavy tears forming in my eyes.

"Stop squirming baby girls."

His voice was harsh and commanding, clearly an order. His voice made more fear swirl into the pit of my stomach and my body turned to stone.

"Good girl~"

The praise made me weak but the fear didn't let me react. His hands didn't let up after I stopped struggling. My shaking got worse but I refused to move more than that. Who knows what he would do.

"L-lyle... itch-hurts."

His rutting turns into slow sensual thrusts, his hand lightening its harsh grip to a firm but much less painful hold on my wrists.

I let myself shift a little so that I could look up at my sore pulsating wrists. It felt like I had pins and needles in them, blood finally being able to rush back to my hands. I let out a pathetic whimper at the sight of them. I couldn't see much due to his hands still holding onto my wrists but I could see the nasty black and purple bruises had already formed on my wrists, some of the bruises popping out.

At the sound of my whimper Lyle pressed his lips to my ear again. His head pressed gently to my temple.

"Breath with me baby girl, I'm not going to hurt you. Just hold still and relax."

I could feel each of his slow calm breaths with each rise and fall of his chest. I felt the feeling leading my breathing. Making my arctic breath match his more calm breathing. Finally calming myself down enough to speak again.

"M-my... w-wrists."

My voice was meek and pathetic, whimpering as I wordlessly begged him to let go.

"Shhhh, I know baby. I'll be gentle, just hold still. I promise that I'll make you feel good~."

I didn't say anything else, just going limp in his arms. It's not like I had much of a choice anyway.

He moved his head down from my ear to my shoulder and started to kiss up from there till he reached my jaw. He gently started to lower my arms till they rested just above my head.

"I'm gonna let go, but you have to keep your hands pressed against the shower wall ok, sweetness?"

I nod.

"Words are beautiful, let me hear that gorgeous voice I love so much."

My cheeks burned red at the comment.

"o-okay."

His hand finally releases my wrists and I slowly move them down, trying to soothe my aching shoulders and place my hands on the shower wall shaking again.

"Good girl."

Being able to see how extensive the bruises on my wrists are made me whimper again. The bruises were thick and very dark. nearly black. Blood was still taking its sweet time going back to my poor hands. I try and rotate them a little to get the blood flowing a little better only to let out a cry at the pain, stopping my movements immediately.

Lyles' now free hand moved under me, his finger sliding back and forth on my slit, gathering some of my slick on his finger as he moved his head beside mine and kissed my tender wrists.

"I know it hurts baby girl, just relax and let me take care of you."

I shuddered at his words as my slit only seemed to get wetter at his near sweet words.

One of his fingers started to circle my clit. putting enough pressure that I could feel it but not enough that I would cum. I moaned and leaned my head back. Accidentally placing it on his shoulder. Lyle chuckled at my action and tilted his head to rest his cheek on my head.

"Does that feel good? You want more babies~?"

He adds a little more pressure and my knees nearly give out again. I let out another moan, my body wracked with pleasurable shivers.

His head moves down and he chuckles into my neck sucking on it a little. His fingers move lower. His body leaning down to reach, completely incasing my form in his.

Slowly he inserts two of his thick fingers into my heat, slowly pumping them in and out in a scissoring motion, slowly starting to stretch me. And considering what I felt rutting into my ass, I needed the prep.

I kept squeezing my hands open and closed, trying to find something to grab onto on the sleek cold shower wall only to stop from the pain in my wrists.

I wiggled my ass a little into his length after a minute or two of his fingers slowly starting to thrust faster and faster, feeling my need grow. His fingers are good, no doubt but with the length I feel pressed into me, it would be so much better.

" Getting' a little impatient are we?"

He chuckles. He stops his rutting completely chuckling again when I wine at the loss of friction. He was making me feel really good, it helped to take my focus off my wrists. The pleasurable pulsing in my cunt makes the pain much more manageable. Besides, a good fuck will do good for my over all mood, even if it's like this.

"We are impatient."

He spins me around, finally letting me get a look at him. He had a wolfish smirk on his face I imagine had been there the whole time. His eyes are full of lust. The water from the shower head cascading down his back.

"Jump."

I was really confused for a second. He seemed to get a little impatient at my inaction and once again took charge. His hands trailed from my waist to the bottom of my ass, griping me tightly and hoisting me up making my yelp in surprise, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist keeping myself upright. I cringe a little at the feeling of my wrists being pressed into his back to keep myself upright.

I gasp again when he thrusts up a little, his head perfectly aligned with my wet heat.

It felt hot, it made me shiver with anticipation. Lyle clearly felt it, his smirk just getting wider.

"Oh? Is my sweet little doctor getting excited?"

"Y-yes."

He chuckles again.

"It's about time."

I moaned in his ear, I was getting too excited, I could feel it pool between my thighs even more, getting the tip of his cock nice and lubricated.

He lightly started to rock his hips back and forth, teasing me even more as his tip nudged my clit. I lean my head back into the shower wall and close my eyes, waiting for him to thrust just a little harder into me. The teasing was driving me crazy.

My head lols back into the wall again, my eyes clearly full of want but also a bit of murk. Clearly annoyed at his lack of actually fucking me.

He didn't say anything at my irritated stare, just smirking at me smuggly.

He clearly wanted me to beg. If I wasn't feeling so needy I would have told him to get fuck himself, but right know I just needed him to fuck me.

Getting pissed at him could wait till after I had the orgasum of my life.

"For god's sake Lyle please~."

He cocked his head to the side a little, his smirk widening a little bit. He didn't say anything but I knew what that meant.

His hands were still tightly holding me up from underneath my ass. The hands felt secure, safe. I knew he wouldn't drop me.

I wiggled my hips a little, getting a little more friction on my cunt.

"Lyle."

His name sounded more whinny on my lips then I intended them to be, but it seemed like that was just what he needed. The pain of my wrists completely forgot along with my fear, just replaced with intense want. I guess that's just what happens when you haven't been fucks for what felt like eternity.

Without warning, one strong thrust of his hips he completely bottomed out inside me.

I screamed in ecstasy. He was completely bottomed out inside me, his balls pressed nicely into my ass. and my clit rubbing on his navel.

I was just about to try and catch my breath before he started to thrust into me mercilessly. My wet sensitive walls gave no resistance no matter how tight I clenched and my clit was being massacred by his body with each deep, full thrust. Since it had been a while I was completely unprepared for his ruthless thrusting, the intense pressure hitting me all at once like I ran into a wall.

"Ahhhh~, L-lyle... sl-o-ow d-down."

His thrust was making me breathless, I could already feel myself heating up, sweat starting to gather on my skin. The seam in the shower is not doing me any favors. Lyle wasn't breaking a sweat however. His back was still wet from getting rained on, water cascading down his back and a little off his shoulders. He looked hot. His front flushed with mine as he fucked me relentlessly.

He chuckled in my ear, but didn't say anything, his pace not faltering for a second.

I was gasping for breath with each thrust, unable to take in a soiled breath, moaning uncontrollably. My mind was going fuzzy from lack of proper breath and from his constant thrusting.

"L-LYLE!!!"

I had never moaned so much in my life, I had never been fucked so good in my life.

"S-slow down~"

He chuckled again.

"No chance baby girl~"

He practically purred the nickname.

He was true to his word, if anything the thrusts only seemed to get faster.

I was screaming on his cock my juices running down and onto his strong thighs.

I could barely keep my eyes open, not like there was much of a point anyway, my vision was completely blurred. My eyes had rolled back into my head, a look of completely ecstasy on my face and Lyle was drinking it up.

I could feel my lower stomach start to coil up. I propped my head on his shoulder, more like his collar bone because of the height difference, closing my eyes as my heart tightened around his meat.

"That's it pretty, cum for me."

It was another order, a gentle one but an order none-the-less, one I would happily comply with.

I gripped him even harder with my arms tightly wrapped around his neck. If he wasn't a highly trained marine the strength that I squeezed my legs around him would have forced him to stop moving completely but of course it didn't stop him, if anything it seemed to encourage him to keep going.

Not a second later my orgasum came crashing down on me like a tsunami.

I let out a broken moan, my body shaking uncontrollably after being given the best orgasum of my life.

But he didn't stop. Lyle kept thrusting over and over again, it started to become too much for me. His constant thrusts overstimulate me like crazy. His navel rubbing up and down my extremely sensitive clit, each harsh thrust not helping anything.

"Ly-Lyle... t-too much... p-please."

I could barely string together such a simple sentence, begging for him to stop the overstimulation making my whole body feel oversensitive but numb at the same time.

He didn't say anything but his smirk did finally disappear, now replaced with a scowl. But I could tell he wasn't scowling at me.

His thrusts got sloppy, not like I could tell, too fucked out and stringing together incoherent words that were me trying to beg him to stop.

Finally after a few hard thrusts he bottomed out. Growling as he cums, his tip kissing my cervix. His thrusts finally stopped, allowing me to catch my breath.

He held me up like that for a while, not catching his breath, the motherfucker wasn't even winded, he was just coming down from his high.

My body was shaking with oversensitivity letting out soft wines every now and then at the feeling of him still inside me. He was starting to soften up but he still kept me pretty stuffed and I was really sore now. The pain in my wrists came back to my mind again.

My shaking started to be more noticeable now. He was still holding me up by my ass and my legs wrapped around him so he could clearly feel me shaking.

"Shhhh, kiddo. I got ya."

If I wasn't in so much pain I would have rolled my eyes at him.

He slowly started to lower me onto the ground, his hands not leaving me for a second. The second my feet touch the ground my knees buckle underneath me. If it wasn't for Lyle I would be a mess on the floor right now.

"Easy baby girl. Take your time, I'm not goin’ anywhere."

His hands wrapped around my middle, pulling me flush with him keeping me upright.

I was completely breathless, once I was breathing normally however I felt the full weight of my day and my activities hit me. The exhaustion hitting me all at once I nearly passed out.

I must have looked hilarious, cock drunk, exhausted, and trying to hold onto his biceps so I wouldn't fall over.

Lyle leaned his face down, his lips brushing my ear.

"Let me help you sweetheart."

Slowly Lyle backed up under the water again, Letting it cascade down both of us.

I could feel the warmth of the water touching my badly bruised wrists making them hurt even more. I'll have to give him an ear full later. I hissed a little at the stinging feeling. Lyle tsked at me, clearly worried about the sound.

"Sorry baby."

Lyle slowly twisted me around and made me lean back on his chest.

I groan a little at the movement, not liking being moved any more. Now all I wanted was to sleep all night. A whole Pandora night.

Lyle shushes me gently making sure I was secure before moving one of his hands up working his fingers through my hair, his other wrapped around my middle still keeping me upright and pressing into his strong body. I didn't even remember I still had soap in my hair.

His fingers expertly massage my scalp, putting just the right amount of pressure in all the right spots. Already the fool had me moaning quietly at his touch all over again. My cheeks get red as I really let the events that just occurred really sink in.

Once he was done he turned me over again and ran his hand all over my body. I took in our size difference. His hands were huge compared to mine. Once hand covering most if not all of my stomach.

Once he was done he picked me up bridal style, making me wine again. The soreness in-between my legs is really sinking in.

"Shhh, sweetheart. I'm almost done."

He took me over to the change room. I realized how lucky we were that nobody walked in and saw us. Or even just walked into the change room and heard me.

Lyle gently sets me down on the bench for a second, turning to grab his clothes. He set me right beside my clothes so I figured he wanted me to get dressed.

Once I put two and two together and wait for the room to stop shifting I reach over and grab my top only for Lyle to gently grab my wrist. But even with the gentle touch I still hissed in pain a little. The bruins were very fresh and very tender.

Before I can say anything Lyle leans down on one knee still holding my wrist a little and gently brings it to his lips. Kissing all around my bruise.

"I'll make it to you later, but right now you need some rest."

He wraps a fluffy towel around me and picks me up again, grabbing my clothes and shower bag. I didn't realize he grabbed earlier and started to walk down the hall to my room.

Every Marine in this compound knew where my room was. They kind of had to if I was asleep and a trauma came in and they needed to come get me. I was never not on call.

Once we are in my room Lyle walks over to my bed and pulls back the blanket, placing me down and tucking me in. The second I was under the covers I snuggled in without a second's thought. The feeling of my blankets around me doing wonders for my sore, spent muscles.

Once I got comfortable I looked back up at Lyle. I figured he would have left. Just being kind enough to carry me back but I found him sitting beside me, a loving smile on his face. To be honest it was more of a smirk but it wasn't mocking or cruel. You could even call it loving.

My bed was built into the wall, all the beds where, and I was pushed up against the wall. I always like sleeping against the wall. It felt safe.

With the extra space it made a perfect spot for Lyle to lay down.  Once he was comfortable he pulled me into him. He was laying on his back and I was snug in his side, his arm wrapped around me.

I relaxed even more, enjoying not being alone. I was fucked thoroughly, clean, and was about to have the sleep of my life snuggled up to one of my favourite people.

Of course I knew this was probably just a fling but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy it while it happened.

And with that I let myself fall into a deep sleep snuggled into Lyle.

When I woke up I couldn't ignore the soreness still in-between my legs and the sharp pain in my wrists. I rolled over. Stretching a little to help my aching muscles.

My joints made a satisfying popping noise as I stretched out. I open my eyes and look to the side. Lyle wasn't there anymore. I wasn't all that surprised though. I assumed it was just some kind of fling. He was just a horny Marine that needed to get back at me and needed a bit of a release. Not like I could blame him. I was pretty pent up so it was beneficial to me as well.

I roll around my bed a little. trying to wake myself up enough to get up and get ready for the day. Or I guess night.

I was just about to get up when I heard my door opening. I barely had time to react. I was still butt ass naked and I figured someone was coming to get me for an emergency. I quickly covered myself with the blanket before the person who came in saw me.

But to my surprise it wasn't some rushed Marine coming to tell me how someone was dying because they did something stupid for no dough the up-tenth time, instead it was Lyle. He was dripping wet with a towel hanging around his waist.

He looked over at me and smirked again.

"Well good morning buttercup, I was starting to think you'd never get up."

I tilted my head at him.

"W-what are you talking about?"

He chuckled and came over to me. He got on top of me, forcing me to lay on my back. He was on his forearms. One arm on either side of my head. His face was close to mine. My cheeks were red with embarrassment. He leaned in a little farther, his lips near my ear, I could feel his warm breath. The cold droplets of water coming off him gave my skin some goosebumps.

"You slept all night, baby girl. The whole Pandoran night."

I gasp and shove him off me. If he didn't want to move I couldn't have made him. But he just rolled over off the bed laughing at my shocked face.

I jumped up, not even caring that I was naked. It's nothing he hasn't already seen. I scramble around my small room like a mad man trying to find all the things that I need. Lyle was still chillin’ on my bed, now laying on his side as he watched me lose my mind.

"I can't believe I slept for thirty hours. You've got to be kidding me, how on earth is that even possible, I've never slept  that long!"

I could hear Lyle snickering at me.

"Well you were up for a while, and I thoroughly tired you out."

His emphasis on his words only made my cheeks all the more red, I looked over at him to glare but it didn't last long.

Lyle was looking me up and down with a look that could only be described as feral. It looked like he was ready to fuck me to kingdom come again. His eyes told me how hungry he was for me. On one side I was embarrassed but on the other I was flattered. It had been a while since someone looked at me with any kind of want. It made me feel good.

I grabbed the closest thing to me and threw it at him. His face was hit with a pair of pants. He takes them off his face only to hold them to his nose and take a deep breath through his nose.

A shiver ran up my spine as I started to get dressed quicker, well his gaze was faltering it was also a little too intense.

Once I was dressed I looked at the time. The sun would just be about to come up. I look back over to Lyle, He was still smirking but he wasn't being flirty or even condescending.

"How long have you been up?"

He looked down, clearly trying to suppress a laugh.

"I woke up five hours after we both went to bed, did my first night shift, came back here to sleep with my sleeping beauty and got up ten hours ago to do my second shift. I just got back from the showers to get some sack."

My jaw hit the floor, He had gotten up twice already and came back to sleep with me once and I hadn't woken up!

He burst out laughing at my face.

"I wasn't even being quiet when I got up, I even tried waking you up but you were completely out of it."

I couldn't believe I slept the whole night, it was crazy, luckily at night was the least busy for me. On the Colonels orders no one was allowed to do night ops so I never had much to do at night. It was kind of like free time that I was getting paid a shit ton of money for.

It was a good thing I woke up when I did. If the sun was just about to come up it was likely that some people were going out for their missions soon. I would need to prep for any injuries and catching up on some reports would do me some good. I also had to take care of my wrists before anyone saw them but having both wrists wrapped in gauze is still pretty weird. Especially for a Doctor like me who hasn't had any kind of wound since getting to Pandora.

I looked down at my wrists holding them and giving them a light rub. they were still pretty painful. Not having full motion of my wrists without pain would be an issue but it shouldn't hinder me too much. Not like I could afford to let it. Today was the day I would be able to finally get out into the real world, I was too excited for that to let anything dampen my mood.

Lyle scowled a little at the look I was giving my wrists. He didn't intend to hurt me, leaving me with such painful bruises was never his intention, but it still hurt him to see them. He got too carried away, he was hot and horny and got a little too excited.

Lyle got up out of the bed and put on his boxers, walking over to the first aid box in my room. All dorms were set up the same, all of them had a first aid box in case someone got a little cut, burn or bruise.

He grabbed it and made his way over to me, gently grabbing my waist and pulling me over to the bed and siting me in his lap. I wasn't expecting him to do anything like this so I was really speechless. I looked back behind me to look at his face. I was about to say something but thought better of it when I saw his face.

His face was stone cold and deadly serious. It was the kind of face I had only ever seen on a Marine when they brought in seriously injured people. I imagine it was also the look they had on on the job. With steel focus and a look that told you to shut it.

He opened the box and took out a soothing cream for bruises, he dipped two fingers In the canister and started to gently apply the soothing cream to my sore wrists.

Every time I winced just a little he would pepper my neck in sweet little kisses to comfort me. The situation was oddly domestic. I hadn't expected him to stay, none-the-less come back twice to sleep with me.

I had figured he would have just cum and go, shoot and scoot, put the white and leave the site, maybe even unload the genetic information and leave the nation.

It's what all my other hookups did. I hadn't even had a boyfriend, between going to medical school doing my internship and then my residency then going to Pandora I never had the time or the interest. It felt good to be taken care of for the first time since I was little.

Once he was finished wrapping my wrist in gauze I figured he would just let go but instead he pulled me back into bed with him. His back was against the wall and I was in-between his strong legs. His arms were wrapped securely around my middle keeping me flush with his back and his face braid into my neck.

I knew this was his version of an apology to me. I would never ask him to say the words, it was just like asking a Marine to say thank you, they didn't do it with words due to pride or vanity but they always made sure to show their thanks or apologies with words. This was his way of saying sorry.

[goldensunfyre]

Unrequited - Chapter 1 - Tsu'tey x Omatikaya!Reader

prologue (technically you can skip it, but i recommend checking it out for the backstory)

summary: y/n had been in love with tsu'tey since they were kids, watching him get his heart broken over and over, until he became hardened. on one particular night, she offers him intimacy with no expectations in return, which sparks up a complex relationship between them. they grapple with guilt, unrequited love, and newfound intimacy, as y/n and tsu'tey navigate the depths of their feelings for each other

wc: 5.1k

contains: one-sided love, angst, smut, friends with benefits (ig), smut in this chapter!

note: the events take place in correspondence to the first movie, right after the final battle with the sky people

a/n: you guys asked for continuation, so i decided to turn it into series. i don't know how many chapters i'm planning to write but i do have a structure that i'll be following, so we'll figure it out together, as we go. i really hope you enjoy it. nothing else to say, just thank you if you reblog or comment ♡

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The aftermath of the war between the Na'vi and the RDA was a somber and devastating sight to look at. The once peaceful and serene landscape of your home was now just as scarred and disturbed as your own mind. When you looked at the scorched earth underneath, and the sorrowful faces around you, your thoughts involuntarily raced back to Tsu’tey. Guilt consumed you for allowing yourself to care about him at a time like this, for recalling the night you had shared with him in the clearing, when you had offered him a piece of you, expecting nothing in return. And yet, despite Tsu’tey’s cautious words, deeper in your heart there was still a longing for more. 

Tsu’tey made it clear that his heart would always belong solely to Silwanin, his true and only love. And as you watched him suffer through the endless loss and heartache, you came to a painful realization that there would be no place for you in his life. He had become so hardened to reality, that he no longer cared for his own happiness, the duty of protecting his people becoming the only will to live. That night, when he became aware of your feelings for him, he pitied you for choosing to love someone as damaged as he was.

Watching the clan rebuild and heal from the wounds inflicted by the war, you were convinced to follow the same route. Instead of dwelling on the aftermath, you had approached Mo’at to join the other healers, as soon as the clan returned back into the forest. For the first few days, as warriors brought back injured Na’vi, you followed Mo’at, assisting her in treating the wounded. You silently prayed to Eywa that Tsu’tey wouldn’t be among the wounded, or even worse.

It was on the fourth day that you finally saw him. When Tsu’tey stepped into the healing tent, close to midnight, his eyes widened at the sight of you. He clearly did not expect to find you there instead of Mo’at. Your gaze traveled from his face to his left arm, predicting that he had suffered a broken bone. It was wrapped tightly in big dried leaves that mimicked the shape of his muscles and fixed his elbow in a flexed position. Flat pieces of wood were pressed alongside his bones, tied with smaller strings around his skin. Another thicker string supported his arm in the air, going around his neck.

For a moment, the broken arm offered you a momentary distraction from Tsu’tey's piercing gaze, but the knots in your stomach tightened nonetheless. The tension left from that night still lingered uncomfortably between you.

“Y/N,” he cleared his throat, “Is Tsahik out?”

“She is keeping watch over Atwäm tonight, he’s gotten worse,” you answered with a heavy sigh, recalling the said warrior’s severe state. Mo'at had predicted that the end of his suffering was drawing near. “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing, I got thrown off my ikran and landed on my arm,” Tsu’tey shrugged his shoulders dismissively, “Mo’at told me she’d change my dressing, but I’ll come back when she’s here.”

“No need, I can help,” you said softly, earning his surprised look.

“Do you know how?”

“Yes. Sit.”

Without waiting for his response, you turned your back to Tsu’tey and began carefully selecting the supplies needed for his treatment. Refreshing his cast didn't make you nervous since you had already assisted Mo'at with a similar task just the day before. Moreover, it was surprising that you were able to maintain your composure around him, even though the last time you saw him, you were almost choking on his member. That vulgar image left emptiness inside you.

Tsu’tey hesitated for a moment before slowly lowering himself to the ground, watching you move around with ease, like a fish in the water. He felt a ping of guilt for not knowing this about you, truthfully, he had no idea that you were even interested in healing, let alone that you have been helping out the other healers for the past few days. 

When you returned to him with the supplies, you took a seat beside him, quietly beginning to untie the string holding up his arm. You instructed him to keep it in the same position for you, and Tsu’tey obeyed, trying his best not to move. Your hands worked with precision and care, peeling away the dry leaves, and the flat pieces of wood that you put aside to reuse. You could feel Tsu'tey’s eyes on you the entire time, sensing that he had something to say but was holding back.

“I am sorry that I haven’t spoken to you since the duel,” his voice was hoarse. You shifted uncomfortably, trying your best to concentrate on your work. 

“You don’t have to apologize. There was a battle far more important.”

“Still, I can accept it if you think of me as an unreputable man because of what I did. But I do not wish for you to believe that I avoided you on purpose.”

“I don’t think either of those things about you, Tsu’tey,” you finally looked up at him, “Would you consider me an unreputable woman?”

He shook his head, validating some of the doubts in your head. If anyone found out about the intimacy you shared with another man without mating before Eywa, it could have stumped your chances of mating with anybody else. Of course, bonds were sometimes made and broken by the guidance of the Great Mother, but you did not think about it. Frankly, you weren’t sure if you could give yourself to anyone else but Tsu’tey, even if Eywa had surrounded you with signs. It was something you figured out a long time ago, ever since Tsu’tey had mated with Silwanin and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance, yet your heart still yearned for him. No amount of attention and courting you received made your heart flutter the way it did when his eyes would land on you even for a second. You had gotten used to the idea of either ending up with someone you did not love, or remaining alone and dedicating yourself to your studies.

“I feel like I betrayed you,” he shook his head, unable to express the depth of his guilt. 

“Why?” you frowned in confusion.

“I promised to always protect you when we were kids. And then I took something from you, and you can’t get it back.”

A lump of shame gathered in your throat, making it harder to breathe. Did he really think you were broken now because of what happened between you two?

“I do not regret it,” you lifted your chin up, “I would rather give a part of myself to a man I love, rather than give nothing to anyone.” 

Love. Tsu’tey’s heart clenched at the obvious nature of your feelings for him. He hated himself for not being able to reciprocate your love, for torturing you.

“I gathered the leaves this morning, so your bandage should last longer,” you commented, diverting the conversation.

As you applied the sticky paste, followed by a clump of leaves, you pressed them firmly onto his skin, shaping it like a protective armor. He hummed, trusting your words, as you worked in silence. When you leaned in closer to reach the tie over his neck, his breath ghosted over your skin, and your heart raced in your chest. Tsu’tey’s hand instinctively reached out to support you by your waist, and you cursed inwardly at the rush of sensation that flooded your body.

Despite the awkwardness and discomfort both of you felt, your thoughts still drifted back to the night when you heard him whimper under the touch of your lips. The way his skin shuddered, when you pressed wet kisses against it, feeling just as nervous and excited to hear his satisfied moans. With trembling hands, you quickly tied the string into a tight knot around his arm, before pulling away, desperate to put some distance between you.

“Thank you.”

“You need to come back for a new bandage, once the leaves dry out.”

“Again?” Tsu’tey frowned, clearly dissatisfied with your instructions.

“As many times as it takes until the bone heals fully.”

“I hate this,” he huffed, “It is itchy and uncomfortable. I cannot fight like this.”

“Fight? The battle is over, Tsu’tey,” you rolled your eyes at him, “Eywa must forgive you for your ungratefulness. The worst of your worries is the itch on your skin that you cannot tend to, instead of losing an arm like Tsay'ä.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes narrowed at your remark, recognizing that sassy tone you used to reserve for Neytiri during your playful arguments. You had rarely used it with him, always contained and reserved, whenever he was around. Tsu’tey realized how different you seemed now, no longer a kid who needed his protection. There used to be a time before Silwanin’s death, when he would see you almost every day, given that you were inseparable from Neytiri. He wondered how much he had missed out on in the past few years, since you weren’t hanging around them anymore. He felt a pang of guilt for not noticing you slowly drifting away from your group.

As you gathered to stand up, Tsu’tey reached for your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You peered down at him confused. 

“What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?” he asked with a slight excitement evident in his voice. 

“Resting before Mo'at's ceremony,” you answered, frowning at his sudden interest in your plans.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for the clan. But now, as the work began to taper off, you were preparing for the grieving ceremony. The final battle with the Sky People had been devastating, and many families in the clan had lost their sons and daughters. And while their bodies had already been given to Eywa, Mo’at decided to hold a final ceremony to pray for the lost souls before the Mother Tree.

“Could you help me with something before that?” Tsu’tey asked.

“Sure,” you nodded.

Tsu'tey felt a twinge of surprise at how readily you agreed without asking for a reason. You barely needed one, your heart would follow Tsu’tey wherever he wanted it to. He released your wrist, and quietly slipped out of the tent.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You walked past the Well of Souls, eyes catching a sight of the softly glowing Mother Tree, where the ceremony would take place later. The aftermath of the battle still lingered in the air, and you struggled to focus on Tsu’tey’s back instead. He walked in front of you, occasionally glancing back to ensure you were keeping up. As he pushed through thick bushes, you heard strange noises from the depths of the rainforest.

“What is that?” you asked, but Tsu’tey only threw a soft smile over his shoulder, like there was nothing to be scared of.

When he came to a stop, you saw it: a big, armored head peeked out from behind the tall bushes. Your heart skipped a beat, as you recognized the creature as a palulukan, piercing through you with its green eyes. You stepped back in fear, as the palulukan revealed itself, coming into your full view. Judging by the size, it was still a youngling, no older than a few days. Still, it was quite large and could easily harm both you and Tsu’tey.

“Don’t be scared, it is still a baby,” Tsu’tey said, holding up his palm. The palulukan cautiously and slowly moved towards him.

“Tsu’tey, do you have a death wish?” you gritted through your teeth, taking a few careful steps back.

“It’s alright, it won’t harm you,” he said calmly. 

He remained unhinged when the palulukan nuzzled its head into his palm. You froze, watching in awe, as Tsu’tey continued petting the animal. The fearsome palulukan became gentler under his touch, tail swishing from side to side. Tsu’tey turned his face to you and chuckled at your expression.

“Come closer, Y/N.”

“Have you lost your mind?” your voice trembled with fear.

It was a rare sight to see a Na’vi man get along with a palulukan. Although you knew of a clan that was skilled at taming the creatures, amongst your own, the Omatikaya, surviving an interaction with a palulukan was considered a blessing from Eywa. 

“You said you would help,” Tsu’tey reminded you, his voice firm.

He lowered his palm and turned to face you, his eyes fixed on yours. The trust he had in the cub was palpable, but your panic continued to rise, eyes jumping between him and the palulukan. 

“Why do you need my help?” you swallowed hard.

“She limps,” Tsu’tey answered, nodding towards the cub.

“We shouldn’t intervene with the laws of Eywa. Where is the mother?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

“The mother was probably killed. The cub was all alone when I found it,” Tsu’tey explained, “I felt too ashamed to burden the other healers when they were busy helping our people. So, I tried moving her back to the valley, where she belongs, but like I said, she can’t walk far because of her paw.”

You threw another glance at the palulukan, who seemed to pay you no mind, lazily swishing its tail from side to side. Your mind calmed slightly, feeling a little sorry for the cub. You took a hesitant step forward.

“Something with the back paw. I’m not very helpful with all this,” Tsu’tey gestured to his broken arm.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before approaching the animal. With a steady hand, Tsu’tey petted the cub, coaxing it into a sitting position, so that you felt less intimidated. You prayed to Eywa to keep you safe as you reached for the injured paw, finding a small piece of demon-metal lodged between its toes. You pulled it slightly, causing the palulukan let out a screech. But Tsu’tey somehow managed to calm her down.

“It can’t stay here any longer,” you threw a quick glance at Tsu’tey, pulling the metal piece as quickly and carefully as you could, “It's too close to the Mother Tree, and there is a ceremony soon.”

“Do not worry, I will lure it to the valley,” Tsu’tey replied, still patting the cub on its head.

“Not in that state, you can’t go alone,” you protested, nodding to his injured arm. “I will come with you.”

Tsu’tey let out a low growl of annoyance, partly at your stubbornness and partly at his own injury. He decided to remain silent and watched as you finally removed the metal chip. The palulukan let out another screech, wiggling its paw out of your hands and bringing it to his snout to lick the wound. Tsu’tey stepped back, observing the animal with a small smile, and you found yourself smiling at Tsu’tey.

You could never stop loving him. Even if you tried, Tsu’tey would always find a way back into your heart. Of course, only he would manage to handle a palulukan without getting eaten alive. You shook your head in disbelief of the man in front of you.

The palulukan stood up with a low growl, sniffing your feet before raising its snout toward your face. You froze, afraid that it might attack you for causing it pain, but the creature only studied you briefly with its big green eyes. You slowly extended your hand to the cub, before taking a step towards the valley. To your surprise, the cub climbed up, limping on its paw, and following you as you started to walk. Some time later, along with Tsu’tey, you led it towards the valley, letting it wander off at the outskirts.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the two of you began your walk back home, you felt a rush of joy spreading through you.

“I thank Eywa for letting me pet a palulukan without getting eaten alive,” you grinned at Tsu’tey.

His ears perked up at your satisfied expression but he pretended to be annoyed with you.

“I wouldn’t have let you near it if there was a chance of getting eaten.”

“But still, Tsu’tey,” you stopped in your tracks, taking his hand in yours, “Eywa has blessed you. You made a friend out of a palulukan. Not many get to say that.”

Tsu’tey looked down at your hands, feeling a ping of excitement at the contact. Since that night in the clearing, he often found himself yearning for your touch and the solace it brought him. And he despised himself for it. 

Tsu’tey mumbled a thanks and squeezed your hand in his, his eyes lingering on yours for longer than necessary. Your heart raced, and something uglier began to spread in the pit of your stomach. You had been consumed by lustful thoughts of him, yet you couldn't admit it to yourself. All you craved was confirmation that he had felt it too.

Like in some sort of trance, you lifted yourself up on your toes, drawn towards Tsu’tey's face. Your hand rested gently on his chest, careful to avoid the bandaged arm. You expected him to pull away, to reject your advances, but instead he watched you with a heated gaze. Tsu’tey knew that it was wrong to give into the temptation, that the aftermath wouldn’t be worth it, but he just needed to taste your lips. 

Scared to your core, you tested the waters first by tentatively nuzzling your nose against his cheek. Tsu’tey released your hand out of his, but instead of pushing you away, he cupped your face roughly, pulling you into a kiss. His hunger to taste you consumed you, and you almost grew dizzy from the intensity of his lips.

As your lips parted, Tsu’tey pulled away, his eyes closed, breathing ragged. You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your voice caught in your throat. You both stood there, silent, for what felt like an eternity until he spoke.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice low, “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong, Tsu’tey,” you whispered, staring into his eyes.

He was distraught but his hand was still gently caressing your cheek. In his eyes, you could see an internal struggle: his mind was telling him to stop, but his body was craving more. 

His eyes widened before closing in a relaxing manner when you crashed your lips against his again. You were eager to satisfy your hunger for him, like an annoying itch that needed to be scratched.

Tsu’tey’s hand pulled you close by the nape of your neck, signaling you to keep going. Your stomach turned in a pleasant pain, when he groaned into your mouth. A few sloppy kisses were exchanged before you were pushing him back into a tree.

Tsu'tey couldn't resist you any longer, the passion that had been building up inside him finally erupting as he kissed you with all the desire he had been trying to suppress. His free hand roamed over your body, pulling you into him, not caring about the pain he felt in his injured arm.

But as the intensity of the moment grew, so did the guilt that Tsu'tey felt. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, that he could never give you more than this, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Y/N,” he pulled away, breathless, “I can’t do this to you.”

“It’s okay,” your voice hitched, his pitiful gaze on you, “I’m okay.”

Tsu’tey pursed his lips, his eyes slowly tracing your features. He had never before noticed the intricate pattern of stripes on your forehead, which formed a unique shape right in the center.   He had never paid attention to the way your freckles glowed like stars in the night sky, something he had always loved to admire before drifting off to sleep. And the way your eyes glistened with a threat of tears, as you feared rejection.

“Please,” you pleaded with him, “Don’t pity me.”

He took a deep breath and let it out before slowly leaning into you. Your heart raced, as he nuzzled into your neck, his eyes shutting in surrender. Tsu’tey then pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck, hand grazing your back. Your heat felt uncomfortably abandoned under his touch, and you pressed your thighs together, attempting to get some sense of relief. The movement caught Tsu’tey’s attention, and he frowned, pulling away to observe you. But it wasn’t long till you distracted him with another kiss, scared of him changing his mind.

The sharp pain reminded him of his injury the second he tried to reach for you with his left arm. Tsu’tey suddenly realized that despite the lust he felt, he was too weak, too restricted to give in fully. So, when your hands reached for his loincloth, he swatted them away, gently pushing you off. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“I want to take care of you,” he admitted, his hand finding its way to your waist. It was his turn to make you feel good.

It was embarrassing how effortlessly Tsu’tey made you forget to breathe. He played a game of cat and mouse with you, giving in one moment and then changing his mind the next. But you desired him so intensely that you simply nodded, letting him turn you around and lower you on the ground. You didn't resist as Tsu’tey settled in behind you, his back pressed against the tree.

“Sit here,” he ordered, pointing to the spot between his legs.

You scooched back quietly, leaning your back against him. Tsu’tey shifted slightly to adjust to his broken arm, before pressing a kiss to your temple. You relaxed, eyes closing, as his fingers gently caressed the skin under your skimpy top, grazing the already hardened nipples. Tsu’tey continued planting kisses to the side of your face, when his hand moved in between your thighs and parted them. He untied your loincloth, exposing your cunt to the cold air. 

“Tsu’tey,” your voice hitched at the anticipation of his next move.

His hand quickly left your thighs, now turning your face to him, so he could press a kiss to your lips. When your mouth opened immediately, welcoming him in, you felt his finger pushed down on your button. Tsu’tey caught your muffled groan into his mouth, and pressed down on you, as you tried to wiggle away from the sensation. A low growl vibrated through him as a warning before he gently glided his fingers over your slit, slowly massaging your folds. His palm brushed over your sensitive bundle of nerves, forcing a low moan out of you. Tsu’tey felt his member harden at the sound, almost in disbelief at how sensitive you were to his touch.

The flat of his palm circled slowly against your clit, rubbing lazily against it. You gasped his name, hips unintentionally bucking up into his touch, seeking a rhythm. But Tsu’tey enjoyed the sounds that you made a little too much to give in right away. His touch left you for a second, as he wetted his fingers and brought them back to your clit, starting to flick it. You groaned and moaned, as he kept going, occasionally switching to his palm to rub against your sensitive spot. 

“More,” you pleaded, choking on your own breathing.

Tsu’tey hummed, not rushing to comply with your request, as his lips found their way to your neck again, trailing wet kisses. His hand continued to tease your clit in tight circles, and you felt him smear around some of your wetness. Your moans grew louder, when Tsu’tey pressed two fingers against your bud and started stroking it from side to side, picking up a rhythm. Shivers ran down your spine, and you whined at the overwhelming feeling in your stomach but before you could give into it, his digits pulled away, teasing you down your slit. 

You were growing impatient, desperately wanting to chase the sensation by squeezing your thighs, but Tsu’tey did not like that. He parted your thighs again, throwing his legs over yours and restricting your movements. He meddled with the idea of punishing you for moving before brushing past your swollen folds and lightly slapping them. You whined at the sudden ache, and Tsu’tey had to stifle a chuckle at your reaction. He felt an urge to slap your heat harder this time, to force a louder yelp. By the sound of your painful cry, he knew he had succeeded, when he raised his hand higher and slapped against your folds with more force. A mixture of pain and pleasure started to blur your vision, as Tsu’tey slapped your heat over and over again, making your body convulse. You were panting heavily, when he stopped, and his finger teased your entrance before slipping in, not giving you time to adjust. Your eyes widened at the sensation, and he pushed it further into your tight walls, all the way to the last knuckle.

“Tsu’tey,” you exhaled in a slight discomfort. You had never felt anything inside you like that.

“”S okay, relax, syulang” he said with a husky voice.

Tsu’tey moved his finger, making you clench around him. But it was too tight, so much that he couldn’t help but groan at the sensation, wondering what it would feel like to have you around his penis instead. He pulled his finger out, palm rubbing against your nub, before slipping it back into your hole and pushing as far as he could. You started to whimper, your walls clamping down on him, as Tsu’tey slowly thrusted his digit in and out of you, accompanied by squelching sounds.

You tried to tell him that it was getting too much but your words came out in a sloppy jumble instead, making no sense. Tsu’tey picked up on a faster rhythm with quick sloppy motions, filling the air around you with a mixture of wet squelching sounds and your panting. He was running short of our breath too, violently thrusting his finger into you a few more times, before pulling it out.

“Please…don’t stop,” you whined at the absence of his touch, buckling back. You pressed your bottom into his crotch, as if pleading him to continue. 

“Don’t-don’t do that, sweetheart,” Tsu’tey breathed out heavily.

You struggled to fight the fuzziness in your mind, as you suddenly felt the need to check on him. You turned to look at him through your hooded lids.

“Did I hurt you?”

Tsu’tey shook his head with a low chuckle. He couldn’t contain his amusement at the fact that you were checking on him. It was an unexpected situation anyway, but even stranger, considering that it happened in the middle of such intimate act. He suddenly felt the need to reward you for your worrying.

As you held his gaze, searching for a sign of pain, Tsu’tey caught your lips with his, hungrily sucking and pulling at your bottom lip. Your mind got clouded with the hotness of his skin, which was exactly how Tsu’tey distracted you again. His hand caressed your thighs and sneaked back to your clit, beginning to draw tight circles around it. He enjoyed the way you bucked your hips up into his touch, chasing that sweet taste of pleasure.

As you buckled up again, Tsu’tey rubbed your swollen bud with a force, then picked up on a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long till you felt the tension building up in your pit again, and you pressed the side of your face into his chest, feeling hot in your cheeks. His fingers were expertly fiddling with your nub, his motions speeding up. Small whimpers were escaping from your mouth, and Tsu’tey couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you nearing your release. His penis was pulsating, as he started rubbing your button more roughly.

“Need you,” you trembled, gripping his thighs with your hand.

Your hips were jerking out of control, chasing that feeling building inside you, your body tensing up, with in a sharp intake of air. The painful tension broke down into a wave of pleasure, spreading from your heat to the knots in your fingers and toes. 

You held your breath, squeezing your eyes shut at the immense sensation. Tsu’tey exhaled behind you, feeling the way you shivered underneath his touch. He rubbed your oversensitive clit again, pushing you over the edge, and you whined, squirming under him. It was too overwhelming, almost painful. You tried to squeeze your thighs, your hole clenching and pulsing around nothing, juice flowing out of it like a nectar.

“Stop, Tsu’tey…stop,” you gasped, as he slowed his motions on your sensitive spot.

Your hand swatted at his, and Tsu’tey chuckled before finally pulling it away. Your chest sank in big heavy pants, and his lips were on you again, hand caressing the soft skin of your tummy, and moving up to your chest. You breathed heavily, when he squeezed your breast in his palm, a satisfied smirk finding a way to your lips. When he kissed the side of your face again, you turned your face to capture his lips. Tsu’tey hummed in satisfaction.

“I need you to-” you pulled away from him, still a little breathless, “I need you to relax too.”

You wiggled your legs from underneath his, and shifted to sit sideways. Before your hands could even reach for the ties of his loincloth, Tsu’tey stopped you.

“Not now,” he shook his head.

“Then when?” you raised your eyebrows, “When you’re healed?”

He chuckled at your desperation. Tsu’tey couldn’t deny or hide his arousal from you but it was amusing to watch you figure out the reason for his rejection.

“Maybe.”

You let out a small sigh, your lips settling into a contented smile. But as you remembered the upcoming ceremony, you quickly rose to your feet, hastily tying your loincloth. Tsu’tey watched you shamelessly, feeling at ease with the knowledge that you now had a piece of him too. Even if it wasn’t going to be permanent. 

“We should head back now to make it in time for the ceremony,” you mumbled, “I promised to help.”

Tsu’tey nodded, standing up too. But there was something different about it when he met your gaze. No words were exchanged as he followed your lead, back into the cove. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that this wasn’t the end yet.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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[goldensunfyre]

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 6

word count: 4003

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: hurt, comfort, feels, lots of crying

Author's Note: Apologies in advance for any grammatical errors! Hope you enjoy this next installment :)))

<previous chapter> | 6 | <next chapter>

The weeks that followed could only be described as uncomfortable. Those of the clan gave you and Quaritch a wide berth. You did not miss their obvious sneers, nor the harsh whispers under their breath. Yet you cannot find it in yourself to fault them; such a reaction was more than understandable, perhaps even warranted.

The humans were far more courteous, even those with Avatars; but they too kept it to what was minimal etiquette. You noticed though, that they were far more cordial with the other recoms. You watched them converse with each other, animatedly talking about something or rather. It made you envious, a feeling you knew all too well.

Quaritch tells you not to worry; says it doesn’t bother him. But you wondered how much weight such words truly held. You’re thankful he and the recoms at least have each other, as bittersweet as it was. On the nights where you would eat dinner with your family, he and his squad ate together in one of their dwellings; the night filled with reminiscing of lives past and wishes for the future. Their revelry is downright infectious, and you often excuse yourself early to join them. It fills your heart with unbridled warmth to see Spider with them too. More often than not he would also join when it was just you and Quaritch alone.

At one point you had gathered all your siblings together, sitting them down and giving them a less graphic (for Tuk’s benefit) retelling of you and your mate’s meeting and eventual courtship. Your brothers, bless them, treated you no different, told you that they didn’t care and were happy for you. When you cornered them afterwards to speak privately, you wept and wept, thanks spilling from your lips over and over again.

They reiterated once more that they were just happy you came back alive and well. Regardless of the less-than-ideal circumstances surrounding your introduction to one another, and his sordid history, they were simply happy you had found your one true mate. Moreover, as far as they were concerned, if Eywa herself deemed it necessary to get this involved in your lives, then she must see something in him. If she could forgive him for his sins, then who were they to hold it against him? He paid his price in blood.

Sweet little Tuk; everything that had happened was perhaps a little too big for such a young mind, but you tried to explain yourself as best as you can to such a young one. She hummed in thought, called you and your mate weird, but if he made you happy like dad makes mum happy, then he must be okay. She was also the only one of your siblings that wanted to actually speak with Quaritch face to face.

You were reluctant, afraid of how mother might react. But little Tuk is rambunctious in nature. She barged in one night when you and Quaritch were having dinner with Spider. Hands on her hips she proclaimed with unwavering authority,

“If you wanna be in my family, then first you gotta apologize!” Her eyes were fixated on Quaritch, who stared back at her with shock all over his face. When he didn’t immediately say anything she elaborated further.

“That time…When you took my big sister…You and those scary people hurt us, and that wasn’t very nice…” She frowned at him, eyes glistening.

When you looked to your mate you saw the guilt in his eyes, how his ears flattened and tail wrapped around his waist. He got to his knees, tried to make himself as small possible in an attempt to be closer to her eye level. And he apologized. He apologized for scaring her, for hurting her. But most of all, he was so sorry he took you. He doesn’t give her any excuses; simply admits he did something wrong and was sorry.

She nods at him, but says nothing else; though you see the tightness of her expression loosen. Spider walks over to her and ruffles her hair which makes her giggle.

“Here kid, I got a little somethin’ for ya,” Quaritch says and reaches into his pants pocket. He pulls out a small wooden carving of a pa'li. He holds out the tiny figurine balanced in the palm of his hand. Tuk’s eyes widen and she grabs it with a loud thank you. She holds it up to her face, turning it around to admire it.

“You made this?” She asks, looking up at him expectantly.

“Yes. Your sister here helped me too. Made sure it looked right.” And it was true; you had spent many nights by his side, carefully instructing him on pa'li anatomy. You were surprised when he approached you and spoke of his intention to carve her the small figurine. He explained he felt inspired when you had offhandedly mentioned her fondness for the animal.

Tuk looks between him and figure a few times, then gives him one final once over before nodding her head.

“Hmm. I guess you can stay. [Y/N] likes you, so…And you’re Spider’s dad, and I like big brother Spider.” She smiles up at the aforementioned boy, who ruffles her hair once again affectionately.

“Okay bye I wanna show this to Lo’ak!” And with that she’s sprinted off before any of you can say anything more.

---

It was disheartening to come to the realization that Kiri was avoiding you. She didn’t outright ignore you per say, but she was always too busy or had other pressing matters to attend to; never was she free to sit and talk to you.

You broke down crying one night, alone with Quaritch. Immediately you were pulled into his embrace. His strong arms held you tight as he whispered comforting words into your hair.

You hadn’t noticed Spider just outside. He had come with the intent to eat with you two as usual, but stopped himself when he heard your cries. He listened to the words you spoke, laden with heartache for your sister.

You didn’t hear him leave either.

---

“You’ve gotta talk to her.” Spider finds Kiri inside watching her mother’s video logs.

“I’m sorry, what?” She turns to him alarmed.

“[Y/N]. You have to talk to her.” He pleads.

Kiri shakes her head at him and turns back to the video.

“I don’t have to do anything. Besides, what’s there to even talk about…” her voice travels off at the end, as if she was unsure of her own words.

“Are you being serious right now? Kiri…” He grabs her by the shoulders and turns her around to face him. She’s at his eye level from kneeling in front of the console.

“What do you want from me Spider? You know as well as I do what he’s done in the past And she does too; but I guess that doesn’t matter anymore…”

“That’s not fair, Kiri—”

“You wanna know what’s NOT fair, Spider?! The fact that I have wake up every day knowing that the man who shot and killed my mother, is alive and well! And not only that, he’s mated to my sister!” There’s tears in her eyes as her voice rises; the frustration of it all bubbling over.

Spider can feel the anger radiating off of her, white hot and unravelling; a crescendo of emotion bottled up for who knows how long. The dam breaks and she sobs, fists clenched tight.

“So now, he gets to play house with my family, [Y/N] gets her Eywa given mate, and you get your dad back! And what do I get? NOTHING!”

Spider flinches when she screams.

“What happened to ‘us orphans have to stick together’…? Am I going to lose you too…?” Spider’s eyes grow wide at her admission. Her fears laid out before him; she felt as though she was losing her family to Quaritch? Was she blind? He hates that she’s feeling like this, wishing he knew how to make it all go away. But at the same time, he can’t help but feel his own bout of anger and frustration.

“Kiri…You never were an orphan; not really…You know that, right?”

He looks at her with a serious expression. Her lips press into a thin line at his words.

“You had Jake and Neytiri. You literally call them mum and dad. Me? Who did I have? Yea Norm and the others raised me; but no one was really my parent…Norm was more like a big brother. And I’m not blind or stupid Kiri; your folks never considered me part of the family. Only you guys did…”

She knows all too well what her parents think of Spider. Mother was not as subtle as she thought she was. Father at least treated him well, but there was still this disconnection from Spider being human.

As they stared at one another, it became clear to both of them that there was perhaps a lot of hurt left yet to heal.

---

Despite the passage of time, you have yet to properly speak with your mother. Words left unspoken causing a rift to form between you two. Small at first, you feel the cracks forming as it has been left to sit and fester. She treats you with the same love and care you have always known, but something has undoubtedly changed. It’s there, behind a lingering gaze, the hesitance of touch, the near imperceivable sharp intake of breath, but with no words that follow.

The tension at dinner time is thick, near palpable. Your brothers try their best to fill the awkward silence with pleasant conversation, driving it as far from the topic of your mate as possible. Kiri obviously says nothing, much to your disappointment. Mother smiles but it does not reach her eyes.

When you eventually muster up the courage to speak with Mo’at, you are surprised; you had expected her to be just as, if not more, against it all as mother. But she is pragmatic, understanding that this providence cannot be ignored. Her unique spiritual bond with Eywa allowed a deeper understanding into the intricacies of the Great Mother’s Will. Though she would not forgive him any time soon, she would at least accept his place among her family and her People; if this was Her Way, the so it must Be. She didn’t have to like it, but she did have to respect it.

You asked her how best to approach your own mother. She tells you that you must speak from the heart, but be open to the idea that Neytiri may never accept things as they are. She is not Tsahik and never will be. Though she has great love for Eywa, this hurt cuts far deeper than you may yet understand. She says that Neytiri perhaps needs to commune with her father’s spirit and seek out his guidance. Perhaps even from Eywa herself.

You nod and thank her for speaking with you. You turn to leave but she stops you with a hand on your shoulder. When you turn back around she pulls you into a warm hug. She tells you everything will be okay; Eywa has deigned it so. That she is sorry you have suffered such hardship, but she knows you are strong and capable, and will get through this one way or another.

You cry shamelessly into her embrace for a long while.

---

When next to happen to find yourself alone in the company of your father, you fix him with a question that has been plaguing your mind.

“You know…I’m surprised you’re not as, angry, as mother is about all this.” You watch his face trying to gauge his reaction. His countenance is thoughtful though a scowl does form. He schools his expression quickly.

“Trust me kid; I am.” There is an underlying bitterness in his words that leaves you with an uncomfortable clench in your stomach.

“But…Eywa accepted me and forgave me for my part in the destruction of Home Tree and everything after that. She came to our aid when shit hit the fan, helping us drive back the RDA. She’s done a lot for me and our family. And if what Quaritch says is true, that our Avatar bodies only work because she allows them to? Then I got a helluva lot more to be grateful for. I wouldn’t have Neytiri, Mo’at, your siblings, the clan, or you for that matter.”

Your lips quiver with the strain to not cry. It becomes nigh impossible with the way father is smiling down at you. He places both hands on your shoulders.

“I took a lot from Pandora…But you and your siblings? You guys are the one good thing I put in.” You heart swells and you lose your battle to not cry. When Jake sees your tears he pulls you in, rubbing your back soothingly as you weep.

“No matter how grown up you get, you’ll always be my baby girl…It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You sniffle as you try to calm yourself. You are a little fed up with all the crying you’ve been doing lately.

“How can you be so sure?” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Call it a father’s intuition.” This time, you return his smile.

---

Tonight finds you in the arms of your husband. The two of you are deep within the forest, somewhere far from High Camp and Bridgehead. You found a secluded perch on which to lay and watch Eywa paint the sky in brilliant starlight. Your snuggled into his side, head resting on his broad chest. You listen to calm rhythmic beating of his heart. It comforts you.

His arm encloses you, pressing you tightly to him. Your hands, fingers entwined, rest atop where his heart is.

“What’s going on through that pretty little head of yours?” His voice draws you in, pulling your lazy gaze from the sky and to his face. There is a warmth in his eyes, a kind curiosity. He brings your hand up and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You loved it when he was soft and gentle. Though you were, of course, eager and willing for his rougher ministrations when the mood struck.

You smile softly and hum in response.

“Hmmm. Just thinking about how much I love you.”

You are rewarded with the goofiest smile you’ve ever seen adorn his handsome face. Sometimes it feels as though he could never get used to your declarations of love and affection. You wonder if he was starved of such a thing. The thought baffles you, as your people loved freely and were not ashamed to express such feelings to friends and family.

You don’t dwell on it though; resolving to smother him with everything he may or may not have been denied all his life.

You move yourself off his chest but don’t untangle your hand from his. Instead, you lay on your back and pull him as you do. Miles follows, moving himself above you; caging you in between his arms, his face mere inches from yours.

You stare at him; studying. You take note of every luminous freckle, the strength of his cheek bones, the grooves of his nose, the breadth of his jaw. Your hand moves to his face and cups his cheek. His skin is warm to the touch. Your thumb traces the lines of his lips. He closes his eyes and leans into your hand.

When he looks at you once more with a half-lidden gaze, lovesick and smiling, it stirs something deep within you. The flicker of a flame comes to life, its warmth all encompassing. That look of reverence on his face; you never want to stop. Not in this lifetime or the next.

You resolve to protect that smile by any means necessary.

---

The two of you weren’t in your tent this morning, and Neytiri huffs in frustration. After much talks with Jake, communing with Eywa, she had finally decided to try talking with you once more. The next morning of course. But much to her dismay, no one was at the tent when she called. She saw no one inside when she quickly looked inside, but did not linger as it smelt far too much like The Demon.

She cusses under her breath. She knows she’s going to have to get out of the habit of calling him that. Start addressing him by his name.

Unsure of where the two of you might be, she makes her way back to her own dwelling. Jake is there, cleaning one of his guns. He looks up when he hears her familiar footfalls.

“That was quick,” he says, a confused look on his face.

“They weren’t there.”

“Oh. Maybe one of the kids saw em’.”

She nods and sets out to find her other children.

---

Alas, it would prove futile; none of the others had seen either of you since the night before, when you had told Spider you and Quaritch were going out to watch the stars.

Speaking of Spider, where was he? If anyone was going to know where you two were, it’d be him.

Neytiri makes her way over to the scientist buildings; if he wasn’t with her children, he more than likely would be here.

She enters the one housing Grace’s Avatar, and finds Norm up and about, not yet in his Avatar. He turns and is surprised to see her of all people, rather than her kids, enter. Still, he is happy to see her all the same.

“Neytiri? Oel ngati kameie! What brings you here?”

“Oel ngati kameie, Norm. Have you seen Spider? Or [Y/N]?” She smiles and greets him with equal enthusiasm. His expression becomes perturbed at the question though.

“No sorry, haven’t seen Spider since…Huh. Actually the day before yesterday? Thought he was staying with [Y/N] and Quaritch.”

Neytiri’s stomach drops at the notion. Has no one really seen either of you three for the passed two days? And no one said anything? What kind of mother was she then, to not notice?? Her mind starts racing, but she takes a deep breath; calming herself before she spiraled out of control. There was no need to overthink; you may have simply been too busy.

“Have you tried asking the other recoms? I’m sure one of them must’ve seen em’ at some point.” She nods at him; it was a good place to continue.

“I have not. Thank you Norm. I shall go see them.”

Briskly she leaves, not another word said; far too eager to find you as soon as possible.

---

She eventually finds the three of them conversing with some of the other Avatars. She cares not for their topic of conversation, walking up and interrupting them without a second thought.

“You three.” She addresses them coldly; the others sense the rising tension and quickly make their escape.

“Mrs. Sully! What can we do for you?” The bald one, Lyle if she remembers correctly, asks her.

“My daughter. Have you seen her? What of your, leader, or his son?”

Instead of answering, the three of them simply share a look amongst themselves, before they all look back to her. The uncomfortable feeling is back tenfold. There is something in their gaze, an almost apologetic look in their eyes. She hates it, nor does she understand why they look upon her so.

“What? What is wrong?” She demands, the agitation ever growing.

Mansk clears his throat and steps forward.

“Come with us Mrs. Sully…And bring your husband too.”

Her stomach clenches something awful; her mother’s intuition stings.

---

The 5 of them congregate in Mansk’s private dwelling. He gestures for everyone to sit down, get comfortable. Jake too can’t help but notice the sullen looks adorning the others’ faces. Nor his he miss the nervous twitch of his wife’s tail. He grabs her hand and squeezes it reassuring. She looks to him, taking a deep breath as she nods.

Mansk re-emerges from wherever he went, brandishing a tablet in hand. He sits himself in front of everyone, holding the tablet for them to see.

“Here…A message was given to us, to give to you when you came.” He moves his hand and hits play.

Instantly you are on the screen. You are nervously rubbing the back of your neck. Quaritch is sitting next to you; he is leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and fingers loosely threaded in front of him.

“Hello mother, father, precious siblings…” Neytiri squeezes Jake’s hand harder. She does not like how your voice sounds as you speak.

“If you’re seeing this, then you’re all probably wondering where we—I am…” You pause, hand on your heart and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. Neytiri notices then, Spider mulling around in the background. Back and forth he moves, as if in a hurry.

“I don’t know how else to word this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. I’ve left. WE, have left. Me, Spider, and Miles.” You glance over to Quaritch and smile, grabbing his hand in yours, threading fingers together. Your face returns to that awful tired expression when you look back to the camera.

“I’m sorry I did this without saying goodbye…But this was for the best. If there was even a chance, no matter how small, that any of you would try to stop us…Well, I didn’t want to take that chance. I’m so sorry, I really mean that. For everything…Father? Thank you for taking care of me. I love you, to Earth and back. Please remember to take care of yourself too, not just the family or the clan…

Kids? I know you’re probably gonna hate me for a while, leaving like this and all—but like I said. My mind is made up and I don’t want any of you trying to stop us. I love each and every one of you so much. No one could ask for better siblings. Please be good to each other. And boys? Start actually listening to dad once in a while, yea?”

You pause to wipe a few stray tears. Neytiri is sobbing quietly as she clenches Jake’s hand painfully. She doesn’t see him swallow hard the lump in his throat.

“Mama?” Neytiri sits up straight when you address her directly.

“I don’t think I could every forgive myself for hurting you. I am so sorry, more than words could ever express…You took good care of me, took good care of this family. I am proud to call you my mother, and no matter how far the wind takes me, I will always love you. I hope you can forgive me one day…” You gently place a hand on your stomach.

“I do not want to cause dissent amongst my family, or the clan, any longer…And one day when I start my own family, with the man I love… I don’t want them to feel like they don’t belong. So here we go, somewhere far beyond the horizon, to find a place we can truly call our own…” Your smile is bright and unwavering, even when the tears don’t stop.

“Please keep taking such good care of each other. Promise me you will. I love each and every one of you, forever and ever…So until I see you again, May Eywa keep you all safe…Goodbye...”

You wave at the camera before leaning forward to touch something unseen, and the video ends.

Neytiri breaks down then and there. She falls into Jake’s arms, clutching at him desperately. Her wails crack her voice as she calls for you. Jake sheds silent tears as he holds her tight. He fights every instinct in him demanding he grab his ikran and blindly fly after you.

The other recoms sit and silence, heads lowered, as they take in the sight before them.

A mother’s heartache was truly one of the saddest things to bare witness to.

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness @perseny @fandom-garbage @ttreader @hihhasotherfixations @angel-of-silver369 @royallaufeyson @saltedcoffeescotch @the-hufflebird-girl @ding-dong-big-schlong @netherklutz @moneyoverl0v3 @@episodic8peace @touchedflowers @sarcasticrandy

---

<previous chapter> | 6 | <next chapter>

[goldensunfyre]

ocean eyes: chapter one ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ocean eyes masterlist

summary: widow!jake sully x female!reader, 10 year age-gap. jake is lowkey sunshine <3 reader is grumpy! arranged marriage/marriage of convenience, eventual smut + wc - 1,753 

comments: hi my loves, new mini series <3 i am too obsessed w the whole second mate/forced marriage trope like, it has me in a chokehold. anyways i hope you all love her just as much as you enjoyed folklore because i think i have enjoyed writing this more than that! GASP i know! the biggest ty to the lovely @tarrynightss​ for reading the series and helping me out with cleaning it up and *spoiler* writing a piece of the fic (later chapter) okay bye babies, love you!

next ✩

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Your face scrunched up in vexation as the words tumbled out of your older sister’s mouth, anger coursing through you as she watched you carefully. “I will not do it.”

Ronal’s eyes rolled so far back you were surprised they did not get stuck. “Your Olo’eyktan and Tsahik are demanding it. You have no choice.”

Continuar a ler

[goldensunfyre]

Fic idea feel free to use 😂

Hii so I had a shitty idea for a Lo’ak x reader and Spider x reader fic but unfortunately I’m not a writer so feel free to use this if you want …. So the reader grew up with the Sully kids and Spider she was the daughter of Parker Selfridge who was also left behind on Pandora but she spent most of her time in the lab because she knew what her father did to the na’vi .… but that didn’t stop Lo’ak to develop his feelings for her but he was na’vi and she human so he never told her about the feelings he had …. and becouse of all the war with the sky people he never found the right time and opportunity to tell her and the cherry on top was them having to leave to Awa’atlu plus Neytiri would never aprove of their relationship because she was a sky demon and the daughter of who she was …. after the fight with Quaritch and all that …. spider went back to the forest (cuz I don’t think the metkayina wouldn’t like to have him there) and in those years Spider and reader develop an intimate relationship (sort of friends with benefits) cuz humans and their curiosity about each other bodies and them being the only ones of their age everyone in the lab kinda saw it coming …. and after a few years of being away (them being young adults now) Lo’ak decides to go back to the forest with his family to visit the clan but Jake was against the idea because he knew about Spider and reader trough one of the conversation he had with Norm and he knew it would leave Lo’ak heartbroken even though years have passed he knew that deep down Lo’ak still had feelings for her reminding him of how close they were in their childhood and even at that young age they all could see the love Lo’ak had for that girl …. but either way Lo’ak convinces them to go and after seeing her again all the memories of them came back but he discovers their relationship by catching them in the act but to Lo’ak it would mean they were mates (cuz I think the na’vi would only do that with their chosen mate) which leaves him heartbroken and with a feeling of betrayal because Spider always knew how he felt about her but what Lo’ak didn’t want to see or acknowledge was that deep down he knew Spider liked her just as much as he did and Spider never said anything because they were best friends and in those years alone with her he never thought the Sullys would come back so he decided to finally act on those feelings …. it’s like a smutty angsty with a happy ending or not kkk both of them are amazing and deserve happiness but it’s up whoever likes and wants to write it to decide the ending

Yeah I know it’s a cheesy and shitty idea but I used my last brain cell to come up with this kkk

And if someone likes the idea and decides to write it please tag me and feel free to change anything kkk

(English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for any mistakes)

(This is kinda how I thought of them as young adults)

Art by: CrazyTom0712 on twitter

[goldensunfyre]

Soooo I dunno if ur up for it but can we get a continuation of the baby fever thing where tsu'tey and s/o adopt spider but now it's in the future kinda like pre avatar 2 where spider is a teenager. Nothing angsty I just wanna read how Tsu'tey teaches spider things and spider calls him dad and spider finally getting that family love (I would literally die for this little boy I- *explodes*)

this is called having no self control btw! this was meant to be a 500 word drabble lol, but since you all love dad!tsu'tey so much, here we go!

continuation of baby fever

part one

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none!

tags: fluff, dad!tsu'tey, adopted spider, pregnancy mention

"Dad, you're drawing them on crooked!" Spider complains, leaning away from his hands.

Tsu'tey frowns, looking down at his work. "They are not crooked."

"They are! Look!"

The stripes that Tsu'tey has painted onto Spider's fragile human skin upon his insistence do not looked crooked to Tsu'tey's eye, but he squints closer at them anyway.

"They look fine to me, maitan." He says with a sigh, dipping his fingers back into the paint dye and finishing up on the last stripe he had been working on. "Look at my stripes - they are not perfectly even."

Spider grumbles, but goes quiet as he darts a look at Tsu'tey's stripes. Seeing proof that Tsu'tey's stripes are not perfectly symmetrical seems to be enough to soothe him, at least for the moment.

When the kelku entrance rustles, Tsu'tey does not need to turn around to know that it's you. He knows you by the sound of your footsteps and the way your hands coast so softly over the broad expanse of his shoulders.

"Hello, boys," You murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to Tsu'tey's cheek. His ears twitch happily, and you move back to avoid getting hit with one, "Oh, Spider. The stripes again? That stuff is so hard to wash off-"

"That's the point, ma." He says, craning his head around to look at you. "I want it to last. I'm faster when I've got the stripes."

"Finished." Tsu'tey murmurs, clasping his son's shoulder before pushing himself to his feet.

Spider stands too, and Tsu'tey looks down at him thoughtfully. The stripes are a little jagged, though there's no way that Tsu'tey will ever admit that. More than anything, his attention catches on how grown Spider has become. He is still small, only reaching Tsu'tey's navel, but he has grown taller than you. His shoulders have broadened, growing thick with muscle from his long days running and playing with Na'vi children. It has always been more difficult for him to keep up, but the result of his tenacity is the impressively defined musculature at such a young age.

"We are going fishing, yawntutsyìp." Tsu'tey says to you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "We will be back soon."

"I'll catch you a big one, ma." Spider adds, pushing masked face into your neck in a hug before bouncing away.

"Did you see!" Spider is still enthusing about his catch the whole walk back to the village.

"I saw." Tsu'tey confirms. The woven basket with their catch is slung over his shoulder, and a content sort of smirk is playing around his mouth as he watches Spider bounce over the tree roots.

"It was huge, and I nearly missed it but then I managed to hit it right as it darted out from behind those big rocks-"

"It was very impressive." Tsu'tey intones, reaching out to ruffle at Spider's hair.

Spider is still grinning, flying high on the success of his mini hunt. "I told you that the stripes made me faster!"

Tsu'tey lets out a rumbly sort of laugh, letting his hand drop from the top of Spider's head to the back of his neck and letting it rest there. His son is growing older, becoming a man, and yet he is still so small under Tsu'tey's hands. He feels a flare of vicious protectiveness deep in his chest, but that's nothing new.

"It was a very good catch, maitan." He murmurs, squeezing lightly at Spider's shoulders.

Spider looks down at his feet as he skips over another exposed tree root. "Do you think I'll be a good hunter?"

Tsu'tey tilts his head, and catches at Spider's bicep as he slips on moss. Once he is sure that he's stable on his feet, he releases his arm and pats him on the back.

"Yes. You have a good teacher." He bares his teeth at Spider in a grin, and gets a little smile in return. "But even if your talents do not lie in hunting, that will be okay. No matter what your skills are, I will be proud of you, my boy."

Spider's cheeks redden, but he smiles back all the same. The corners of his eyes crinkle just like yours do, and Tsu'tey's heart swells at the similarity between the two of you. His precious little family.

When they enter the village, you're waiting by one of the cookfires. You're fiddling with a couple of beads, and Tsu'tey recognises that you're weaving together a hair decoration.

"Yawntu," Tsu'tey calls as he approaches with Spider at his hip. "Look at what our son caught."

Spider takes the basket from him and bounds forward, grinning wide behind his mask as he proffers it at you. You make a big show of oohing and ahhing as you look into the basket, looking very impressed indeed.

"What big fish," You say. "These could feed the whole village for days!"

It had taken Tsu'tey quite some time to learn how to read the body language of Sky People, but even he can see how pleased Spider is. If he had a tail, it would be swishing wildly.

"I'm gonna go show Lo'ak." Spider says with a grin. "He couldn't catch anything yesterday! Jake isn't as good a teacher, I guess."

"Spider." You scold, giving him a look.

"Go, show Lo'ak." Tsu'tey encourages. "Make sure that Jakesully sees too. Show him that my son is a fine hunter."

"Tsu'tey!" You chide, delivering a smack to his thigh.

Spider just laughs, before taking the woven basket and running with it deeper into the village towards the Sully's kelku. Tsu'tey watches him go, before turning to you with a smug little grin.

"Ma'yawntutsyìp," He murmurs, leaning forward and pressing his forehead into yours. "He did well. He is growing skilled."

You cup the back of his head with one hand, scratch at his head with your little fingers. He lets his eyes slide shut lazily as he enjoys the feeling of your warm body so close to his after a hunt. He drops his head further into the cradle between your shoulder and neck and nuzzles there.

"I do not like him hanging around with Jakesully's children," He murmurs, his voice muffled in your throat. "There are many other children in the village."

"Oh stop," You mumble, your fingers massaging at his scalp, "They’re good kids."

"Neteyam is like Neytiri. Sensible." He grunts into your skin. "But Lo’ak is like Jakesully. He will get Spider into trouble."

"Oh, Tsu'tey." You sigh in that way you usually do when you think he's being dense. "They're both good kids. Besides, he's not really going to show Lo'ak anyway. He's going to show Kiri."

His brow furrows. "Kiri? She has no interest in fishing."

You sigh again, although this time you seem a little more amused. "I seem to remember you showing off your fishing skills to me when we were younger, hm?"

"That was different," He says dismissively. "I was courting you. That was my way of expressing interest, of showing you that I am strong."

"Mhm." You say, as though you're waiting for something.

Slowly, Tsu'tey raises his head from where it's buried in your shoulder and squints at you. He's not sure if he's following what you're suggesting.

"You do not think this is the same?" He asks, frowning. "Spider is- he is too young. He cannot be thinking of mating yet-"

"Oh, he isn't." You interrupt with a quick shake of your head. "It's a little crush, love. It's sweet."

But Tsu'tey is frowning, his mind overactive. "Does she- how does Kiri feel? If she does not share his feelings, he will be so disappointed-"

"He isn't going to be proposing anytime soon, relax."

"He needs someone who will value him-"

"Tsu'tey."

He falls quiet, looking into your eyes with a thoughtful little frown. You're looking right back at him, mouth quirked.

"He's a teenager with a crush. Let him be." You murmur, stroking a thumb over one of his pointed ears and making him shiver.

Tsu'tey just grumbles. "He has not told me about a crush."

"Well, I'm sure he will," You say simply. "He's a teenage boy. He's going to be shy about it."

Tsu'tey huffs, and looks down at his hands with a scowl. The thought of his small human boy developing feelings for someone who may not return them makes him feel shifty and aggravated – how is he supposed to protect him from such a thing? It will hurt him so much, and there is nothing that Tsu'tey can do to stop it.

"Stop overthinking." You mutter, nudging against his bicep with your shoulder as you finish tying the hair decoration together. "For all you know, Kiri likes him too and is just shy about it."

Tsu'tey grunts. The thought of Spider, such a small and weak little thing, having his feelings at the mercy of Jakesully's daughter makes him feel a little as though he's losing his mind.

"Hey."

When you nudge him again, he turns to you fully. The beaded hair decoration in your hands is finished, all red beads and golden yellow feathers. You hold it up, eyes bright.

"I made this for you." You say, holding it out for him.

Tsu'tey's stern expression softens, and he ducks his head closer to you. "For me? Will you put it on, yawntu?"

Your sweet little face is so bright as you shuffle forward and reach up for his face. Tsu'tey watches you carefully, reaching out to lay his hands against your waist as you wind the beaded decoration around a small section of braids just behind his ear.

"So handsome." You coo at him when it's tucked neatly behind his ear.

Tsu'tey smiles, satisfied. "Thank you."

You sit back and then nestle into him. He opens his arms and accepts you into his side easily, resting his chin over the top of your head contently.

"Our son will be a good hunter." He says, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. "And a good brother."

His hand lands on the curve of your belly, his thumb smoothing over the swell of it beneath your woven top. You lean into his touch, sighing happily as his other hand massages at the base of your spine.

"I know," You say simply, making a soft noise when he leans down to cup below your belly with his hands, lifting some of the weight up. "You've taught him well."

Pride swells in his chest, and he purrs softly as he presses his face into your neck again. You smell so sweet and comforting, and he inhales contently against your skin.

His small son has grown so strong, and his little mate fits so perfectly into his arms, no matter how large your belly has swollen. His family is so small and weak; he holds you close as his chest rumbles, pleased that he's large and strong enough to protect you all.

[goldensunfyre]

Doing It All For Love

Pairing: Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyitan x Fem! Dreamwalker! Reader

Summary: Quaritch was about to hit Hometree. (Y/N), Grace, Norm, Jake, and Trudy make a daring escape to save all that you can, however, it came with a price.

Word count: 3.6k

Warning/s: angst, betrayal(?), mentions of blood, hurt/comfort

Note: All for Us suddenly played while I was making this and ?? I thought it kinda fit so... have this.. I think this was a request I can vividly remember back on my main.. Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are most welcome and appreciated! Let me know your thoughts!

italics - na'vi being spoken

GIF is mine!

“Quaritch is rolling the gunships, he’s going to hit Hometree.”

Trudy spoke out of breath due to running, holding her helmet.

You moved, standing up. “He can’t-“ What the hell?

“My God.” Grace says, before she sprints towards the control room, followed by you, Jake, and Norm.

“Dr. Augustine, you cannot be up here!” A guard says to her. You shoved him out of the way in frustration. “Back off.” You said, you weren’t about to let them destroy Hometree.

“Parker. Wait, stop. These are people you’re about to...” Grace said before the guard yanked at her again which made you angry, pushing him away from her. “I said back off.”

“No, no. They’re fly-bitten savages that live in a tree!” Parker says, pointing at Grace. “All right? Look around! I don’t know about you, but I see a lot of trees. They can move!”

“There are families in there. There are children in there. Babies. Are you gonna kill children?” You questioned. You were fuming as you stared Parker down.

“You don’t want that kind of blood on your hands. Believe me.” Jake said. “Just… let me try to talk them out. “They trust me.”

Parker looks at the three of you before he gives in.

“Calibrate fast. We’re going in, right now.” Grace commanded as the three of you along with Jake rushed towards the link units.

“Calibrating three, four, and five.” One said as you approached the link unit as it opened.

“Run sequence.”

“Initiating. Thirty seconds.”

You hopped on your link unit, placing the frame onto your body.

The last thing you see was Selfridge going to Jake, saying something to him as the unit closed.

You were panicking.

Closing your eyes, you opened them to find yourself back at Hometree. You blinked back a few times before standing abruptly, looking around for Grace and Jake. Once you’ve spotted them standing up. You rushed over to them. “Let’s go.” Jake said.

“Ma senpu, ma sa’nok!” Neytiri calls, gathering the attention of the olo’eyktan and the tsahik.

“Eyktukan, I have something to say.” Jake spoke, looking at them while you and Grace stood back. “Listen to him.” You said, your eyes meeting Tsu’tey’s.

“Speak, Jakesully.” Eytukan granted him the permission. “A great evil is upon us… The Sky People are coming to destroy Hometree.”

The people reacted, huffing out. You looked around, face contorting in worry.

“Look, tell them they’re going to be here soon.” Jake said to Neytiri as she translates the message. “You have to leave. Or you’re going to die.” Jake continued. “Are you certain of this?” Mo’at asked.

You looked at Jake, then back at Tsu’tey. “Look. They sent me here to learn your ways. So one day I could bring this message and that you would believe it.”

You watched as Neytiri turns to face Jake towards her, her hands feeling like they were being burned from touching Jake as they extend and retract on his chest. “What are you saying, Jake? You knew this would happen?”

“Yes.”

“Look, at first, it was just orders, and then everything changed.” Jake talked to Neytiri. “Okay? I fell in love. I fell in love with the forest and with the Omaticaya people. And with you.”

You frowned as you saw Neytiri’s tears fall. Then her ears fell. “I trusted you…” Her voice cracked. “With you..” Jake convinced. “I trusted you!”

“Trust me now, please-“

Neytiri screamed at Jake, looking at you and Grace before she returns her gaze to Jake, shoving him away from him. “You will never be one of The People!”

You heart ached. “We tried to stop them-“ You tried to explain but Neytiri held her palm up, turning her head away and going behind her mother. You looked at Tsu’tey.

He was angry, he was distraught. How could you do this to him? After everything… after he had taught you their ways, fell in love with you, and... even chose you in front of Eywa. His eyes that once looked at you with fondness now glared at you with hate, resentment. He hadn’t uttered a single word to you.

“Bind them.” Eytukan commanded as he was quick on his feet, not sparing you a glance as he held Jake down.

You now felt yourself being tugged, you swallowed, looking up at them. “You have to go. They’re coming.” You begged.

“You have to leave now!” Grace says. You were pushed down to your knees as your hands were bound. All you could do was frown as they had decided to fight.

The three of you were bound to a post in a line. The people were gathered around you, waiting. Then you heard it, the choppers.

“Go! Please!” You spoke. “Run to the forest!” Jake shouted. “They will destroy this place!”

“Neytiri, you must go now.” Grace said, but it was ignored. Then they were in front of you. “Have no fear!” Tsu’tey shouted. “Tsu’tey, please!” You said, fighting against your restraints. He ignores you. “Take the Ikran, attack from above.” Eytukan commanded Tsu’tey as he followed, running towards Hometree but he paused for a moment as he looked at you.

There it was still, resentment. However, his eyes also held sorrow. “Tsu’tey…” You called but he shakes his head, yelping at his teammates as they went and climbed inside Hometree.  Your eyes then caught sight of the gas cans being launched at you, smoke clouding your vision as you heard the people coughing, trying to get out.

Eytukan had then commanded to open fire, their arrows doing little to no damage on the RDA aircrafts. Then your eyes widened as they switched to the rockets, hitting Hometree square on the ground. “No!” Jake screamed as the missiles kept firing and firing. Then a chill ran down your spine.

Tsu’tey was still in there.

“Stop!” You screamed. Your heart pounding as tears rolled down your face. “Get everyone to the forest!” Eytukan signaled, leaving the three of you still bound.

“Neytiri!” Jake called to her, but she just gave a blank stare as she walked away.

“We gotta move, he’s gonna blow the columns!” Jake said to the two of you. You breathed in deeply, tears clouding your vision as you tried to break free from your restraints. “I- I can’t.” You spoke out. “You can, come on now, (Y/N)!” Jake says, struggling to break free from his own.

Then you see Mo’at approaching as you blinked, carrying her knife as she approached the three of you, her knife dangerously travelling to Jake’s neck.

“Mo’at, no!” Grace pleaded. With tear-stricken face, Mo’at cries out. “If you are one of us, help us.”

She then cuts Jake’s rope, freeing him. Next it was you, then Grace.

“This way!” Jake said, you followed him, your eyes couldn’t help but look around you as the people still struggled. Then another round of missiles rained down.

It exploded, sending a wave strong enough to knock you over the branch as you coughed out. “Come on, Grace. Move!” Jake says, helping Grace to hop over the fallen huge branch. Then you supported Mo’at in crossing over as you hopped over in time as large missiles came.

“Head down!” Jake says. “Down, down!” He says, as you hid yourself behind the tree branch. Explosions rang left and right as your lip quivered. All you could think about was Tsu’tey.

Then the final blow hit. Leaves started to fall amongst you. You heard it. The large creaking sound of the base of the Hometree snapping.

Everyone looked up in horror as they knew what was coming next. “Go. Go!!” Jake pushed you in front of him as you ran. You looked back and forth as you ran, your face scrunching as you ran for your life.

Separate branches then fell. You were about to run into one when Jake yanked you towards him. “No, no, get back! Back!”

The screams from around you had struck your heart, your whole body feeling frozen as you hear their screams become muffled as Hometree finally surrenders, dropping.

You kneeled as you watched around you. Destruction. There were flames and sparks everywhere. Smoke still hanging in the air. You grasped at the ground beneath you, closing your eyes shut as you hear Mo’at scream in terror at what just happened.

It followed by more screams and cries. You couldn’t take it. You stood up, walking around to see if the rest of the people are still okay, somehow. Your breathing became ragged as you tried to look for a sign of Tsu’tey. You prayed to Eywa with all your might that he must’ve made it out alive.

You feel fresh tears running down your face as you walked with the people. Jake excused himself, saying he was going to look for Neytiri. You began walking with Grace, with your heart heavy. Grace frowned from beside you, going to wrap an arm around your shoulder to rub your arm.

Then Parker pulled the plug.

You were still walking when Grace suddenly dropped down, lifeless. “Oh no…” Was all that you managed to say when you feel yourself slip from your consciousness, dropping alongside her.

The children around you were alerted. “Tsahik!” They called out to Mo’at.

Suddenly, you were back in the link unit as it opened. Anger. That was all you felt as the first guard you see hovering above you was given a punch on his face. He pulled you out from the link unit as your hands were bound yet again. “You murderer!” You hear Grace scream at Parker.

“How could you?!” You shouted as you were being yanked to stay still.

Now you were detained. You had your head in your hands as your thoughts ran almost a million miles an hour.

“What’s going on, brother? Long time no see.” You heard Trudy say, making you look at her to see her pushing in a tray carrying food. “Personally, I don’t feel these tree-hugging traitors deserve steak.” She chuckled.

“They get steak? That’s bullshit. Let me see that.” The guard spoke, crouching down and opening the cart door.

You saw how Trudy approached him and then bought a gun out, making your eyes widen. She then aimed at his head. “Yeah, you know what that is. Down, down.” Trudy said, making the man lay on his stomach with his hands up. “All the way down.” She said, before raising her hand and smacking the gun on the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.

“Trudy!” You hear Norm say. “Max!” Trudy called out and Max comes into view, typing something on the padlock and the door opened.

All of you now were running to get to Trudy’s samson. “Trudy, fire up the ship, go!” Jake said, making Norm and Trudy head to the outside.

You also reached the first door, pulling it open and going over to grab your mask, handing one to Grace, and Jake. “Max, stay here. I need someone on the inside I can trust.” You heard Jake say as you handed him his exopack.

Reaching samson 1-6, you helped carried Jake onto the chopper, once he was on, you quickly handed his wheelchair to Norm. “Come on!” Trudy said, knowing that her unauthorized engine start was now notified.

Then bullets sped past you as you helped Grace get back on, the last one to board was you. “I’m taking fire, let’s go!” Trudy shouted.

“Come on, (Y/N)!.” Norm said, pulling you up. You held onto him as you managed to sit down, exhaling. Now you were up in the air.

“Yeah! Wohoo!” Jake and Norm cheered. “Everybody alright back there?” Trudy asked.

You were about to reply when you felt it. A wet sensation on your side, warm, sticky. You breathed out, placing a palm against it, making you wince as you saw that your hand was covered in blood. Your blood.

You gasp out a breath. “Fuck.”

Jake had a smile on his face when he turned to face you, but that quickly dropped when he saw the bloodstain on your side. “(Y/N)’s hit!” Jake said. “Oh, shit.” Grace said, inspecting you.

“What?” Trudy said, looking back. “Get the trauma kit!” Jake said to Norm. “Trauma kit’s forward, on the bulkhead.” Trudy says. “Keep the pressure on, (Y/N). Hang on, alright?” Jake said as you squinted in pain, the adrenaline leaving your body as you were about to possibly bleed out.

Reaching the link shack, Norm had linked to his avatar to monitor the outside as the link shack you were currently in was now being hoisted up by Trudy’s chopper. You laid against the fluid gel pack on one of the link units. Trauma kid had been applied and you weren’t feeling any better.

You then felt Grace inject something on your arm as her face contorted in worry. Jake revealed the blanket covering your body to see the bandage was already beginning to get soaked further of your blood. You clenched your jaw, eyes fighting to stay awake.

“I’m gonna get you some help, (Y/N).” Jake promised, placing a hand on your arm after he places the blanket back on you again. “You have to be strong, hold on (Y/N). The People can help you, I know it.”

You let out a shaky sigh “Why would they help us?” You shifted, but every move you made hurt. Jake looked at you, biting the inside of his cheek. “Get some rest, alright? We’re almost there.” He only said, patting your head as he moved away. You closed your eyes.

After Jake had claimed Toruk, he now had to face the people.

“Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan, I stand before you… ready to serve the Omaticaya people. You are Olo’eyktan, and you are a great warrior. I can’t do this without you.” Jake said to Tsu’tey, his eyes pleading.

Tsu’tey thinks, blinking to look at Toruk before he looks back at Jake, nodding. “Toruk makto, I will fly with you.” He said, placing a hand on his chest, however. The next words that came out of Jake’s mouth had a chill sent to his spine.

“My friend is dying. (Y/N) is dying.”

Tsu’tey’s mouth went agape, he had been occupied with his anger, hate, and grief that he had forgotten where you were, or where your body was. He didn’t even find himself asking for you after the aftermath of the destruction of Hometree. Tsu’tey backs away, looking at Mo’at then back at Jake. “I beg the help of Eywa.” He speaks.

Tsu’tey’s brows furrowed “Where is she?” he demanded. The need to see you overcame him as his heart drummed in his chest. Jake’s eyes flickered over to Tsu’tey. “She’s here.”

You stirred awake as you blinked, the bright bioluminescent lights almost blinding your weak frame. You then see Jake, in his avatar, then Neytiri from beside you as she was wrapping you in something. “Stay with us, come on (Y/N).” Jake said.

“Be strong.” Neytiri adds, looking at you, placing her huge hand on your shoulder as you were laid down.

Then you spot Jake and Neytiri looking at someone before they stood up. You let out a deep breath as the face of the man you had wanted to see for the longest time appeared. “Tsu’tey…?” You muttered weakly.

Tsu’tey swallowed the lump in his throat seeing you. It was the first time he ever saw you in this form, your true form. You were small, smaller than him. You were weak as your eyes flutter open and close just to see his face. He bites his lip. This was truly you. The one he was mated with. It left a deep ache in his heart seeing you in this state, not even knowing the chance of your survival.

Tsu’tey inches closer, his hand going their way to place them on your head, down to your cheek, but it was covered due to your mask. You might live, or you may die.

“I see you.” You whisper weakly to him, a smile etching on your face as you reached up to him, your hand barely covering his cheek as he instinctively leaned into your touch. “I see you.” Tsu’tey answered, yet his heart felt regret.

“They’re ready.” Jake announced.

You and Tsu’tey looked at each other before he carefully swept you up in his arms.

Making their way towards the Tree of Souls, you opened your eyes, seeing this beautiful sacred site in your own form was overwhelming. You looked around, gasping. “This place…it is truly beautiful.” You mutter, only Tsu’tey could hear as he looked down at your awe-struck gaze.

Jake carried your avatar body as he laid it to the side. The people were gathered around as Tsu’tey now carefully laid you on the other side. You felt the cold ground. Then you had the feeling of vines crawling their way onto your body, trapping you in a hug, almost.

“The Great Mother may choose to save all that she is, in this body.” Mo’at explained to Jake as Tsu’tey never left your side. “Is that possible?” Jake asked. “She must pass through the eye of Eywa and return.” Mo’at answered. “But Jakesully, I feel her getting weak.”

Tsu’tey swallowed the forming lump on his throat as his eyes darted between your human form and your avatar. His hand going over to hold your shoulder. He nudges his forehead to the side of your head, a rare show of vulnerability coming from Tsu’tey. He scrunches his eyes closed, muttering his prayer with all his might.

“Do not leave me, tìyawn. Eywa, bring her back to me. Give her strength. Do not let her leave this world without me. Ma Eywa, it is all I ask.” Tsu’tey muttered against you, as tears formed in his eyes, dropping onto you.

Jake could feel the same ache in his heart watching the two of you. He treated you like the sister he never had, it had him closing his eyes, wishing that Eywa could hear his prayers. Grace, now in her avatar form stood side by side with Norm as she has a frown etched on her face watching Tsu’tey being vulnerable.

The moment Tsu’tey sat back up and looked at Mo’at, she had then commenced the consciousness transfer. Then the ritual chant began as the people held each other as they closed their eyes, praying that you might cross the eye of Eywa.

Tsu’tey chanted, keeping his eyes trained on you.

“Hear us, All Mother.” Mo’at praised. “Eywa, help her.” The people chanted. “Take this spirit with you and breathe her back to us.”

“Let her walk among us as one of The People.”

All you saw was a bright light, then memories flashed around you, in your human form, when you were little, then up to now as you watched yourself falling in love with Tsu’tey.

Eywa had known you. She knows you. She was real.

Standing there, you felt a wave of peace rush over you as your skin glowed. Looking, you spot a path, then you felt this urge to keep fighting. Breathing in, you feel yourself walking, jogging, that turned into a full on sprint as you desperately chased the end of the glowing pathway.

“Do not leave me, tìyawn. Eywa, bring her back to me. Give her strength.” You hear Tsu’tey’s voice echoing around you. Making you push yourself as you ran.

I am not leaving you. I will come back. Great Mother, hear me.

You finally reached the end as you were enveloped in a bright flashing light.

Tsu’tey’s eyes looked at Mo’at as her chanting stopped. His heart felt like it was about to burst from his chest as Mo’at ordered them to stop.

Tsu’tey and Jake circled around you as Tsu’tey carefully inspected your human body. Your eyes were closed as you heaved your last breath. Tsu’tey then jumped over towards your avatar form, his hand going over to your shoulder as Jake stayed with your human form. Mo’at hovered her hands above your human body towards your avatar.

Tsu’tey still glued to your side as his eyes never left your face. “What’s happening, did it work?” Jake frantically asked.

The vines running around the Tree of Souls glowed brighter than ever, almost blinding.

Tsu’tey then laid you on your back, his hand going over to cup your neck as he carefully hoisted your upper body in his arms.

“Tìtxen si, ma yawne. (Wake up, my beloved).” Tsu’tey whispers against you.

And then he feels that Eywa had heard The People’s prayers as your avatar stirred, then you opened your eyes.

Tsu’tey was the first one to see as he pulled you close to him. “Thank you, Great Mother, you have returned her to me. I am forever thankful.”

Jake rushed over to him as you awoke in your new body.

“Tsu’tey…” You said, a smile now crawling on your face.

“Hey there, big baby.” Jake said, breathing out his relief as he looked at you. You glanced at him and you shake your head. “Look who’s got you crying.” You said to him as he chuckled, the last of his tear rolling down his face.

“She has returned to us!” Mo’at smiled as the people yelped and cheered.

“Thank you, thank you.” Jake said, looking up at the Tree of Souls.

Tsu’tey still held you in his arms, eyes scanning your face as you smiled at him. Eywa has returned you, Eywa has returned you to him. He nuzzles his forehead to yours, closing his eyes as you reached up to cup his cheek. “I thought I had lost you.”

Even though the looming threat of the RDA still hung, Tsu’tey could not be bothered as he feels you breathe beneath him.

He was then filled with determination as he looks at The People. He was going to do everything he can so they could win this fight. He then glanced back at you. He was going to fight for you.

He was going to fight for a future with you.

[goldensunfyre]

My Betrothed pt 6

Neteyam x F!Omaticaya!Reader, Lo’ak x F!Omaticaya!Reader

Slow-burn story with aged up characters. Neteyam is 19 and Lo’ak is 18. Reader is 18. Everyone else is their movie age. Also this takes place before Avatar:TWOW

Summary: The reader's ceramony is finally happening. She gets her mate, and its exactly who she wants it to be. They spend the night dancing and laughing. Feeling totally welcomed into the family, the reader is so happy. Untill she faces the decision to choose her mate or go after someone else. The night ends with the reader being cuddled into a great sleep.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Non that I can think of!

Note: Read AN at the bottom for a secret :0 Also i have been writting this off and on for days, so i havn't proof read any of it!

Last part Masterlist Next part

The afternoon sun had warmed the stream of water up just enough not to be completely unbearable. It was just a little past noon when Neytiri came to get my from my hut. My mother was still no where to be found. Not that I was really surprised anymore by her missing my important events.

Neytiri insisted on fixing my hair for tonight. I appreciated her help. She was skilled at braiding hair. She had done everyone's in her families. Even little Tuk's. I found it sweet of her to help out. My braids had taken a long time to do by myself and they weren't as flawless as hers, but I kept them up in a ponytail most of the time. Hopping no one would notice. But of course Neytiri did.

I was currently sitting chest deep in water with Neytiri sat behind me. She was slowly unbraiding my hair. Neither of us really spoke. I let her do her thing, while I daydreamed of tonight and of last night. My stomach had been in a constant state of butterflies since I awoke this morning. I got up before the sun had risen and couldn't fall back asleep so I took a early morning flight to the tops of the hallelujah mountains to watch the sunrise. I spent an hour or so there. Trying to calm down my nerves. Praying to Eywa for forgiveness about last night.

I still couldn't believe I hit her and fought her to the ground. Needless to say I was embarrassed. I had done that in front of the boys. Who I hadn't even spoken a word to before that. It was shameful. But I hadn't heard anything about it from anyone else so I am hopeful that she wasn't going to tell anyone. In part because of her awful words about Lo'ak.

I was glad Neytiri wasn't talking to me. I had many questions about the trip the three boys took, that I wasn't so sure I wanted the answers to. I am sure Neytiri has her own questions about me too. It is hard to hide my bruised knuckles and the soreness in my side. I wonder how Eyrina was going to hide her, I am sure, bruised face.

Neytrir's finger's work fast but soft. She hadn't pulled my hair harshly or anything. I'm sure due to lots practice of her family members. Or her late sister. It was crazy how she did it all. Between giving up her spot as the next Tashik for Jake to the lost of her father and sister. She had been through so much yet she was so soft to her family.

"How do you do it?" I hadn't really meant to say it out loud. The question hung in the air for a minuet. I began to think I hadn't said it out loud at all.

"What do you mean, Y/n?" Her hands never stopped their motions in my hair.

"How did you ever figure out your feelings about life. I mean so much has happened and you are so sure. So strong."

"Before I met my Jake, I felt I had no choice in my life. I was to be this and do that. He gave me choices for my life. Who to love. How to live."

"How did you know that he was your mate. I mean I know Eywa sent him, but..." My sentence disappears in my throat.

"Hmmm, it is a feeling that only the heart knows." She sounds so sure of her self as she unbraids my hair.

"What does it feel like?"

"Ma Jake makes me feel safe. Protected. Warm. Even at the thought of him." She sounds so happy. I know a smile must be on her face behind me. "Does Neteyam make you feel like this?"

I am taken back by her question. Did Neteyam make me feel like that? Protected, yes. Safe, yes absolutly. Warm however?

"When you say warm you mean like...?"

"Calm. Like being by a fire."

"Yes, then Neteyam does make me feel those things." I have to be honest with her. Eywa compels me too.

"And Lo'ak?" She never stops her goal on my hair as she undoes my hair. Lo'ak was a total different feeling than Neteyam.

"He makes me excited and happy. He also makes me feel calm and safe most of the time." I choose to not tell the whole truth about how both boys really make me feel.

"Hmm. Sounds like you love them both."

"Yeah." I feel wired talking about her sons like this with her. "I think I do." I whisper out. Its silent for a while after that. Just the sound of water splashing from her movements.

"May I ask something from you?" She interrupts the silence.

"Yes ma'am."

"Are you sexuality active with them?"

I'm choking on air. I have to pull away from her grasp to lean forward to catch my breath. Water splashes around me sending ripples through the water. Neytiri starts patting my back in a attempt to help.

"W-what-t?" I choke out still coughing. I am so shocked by her question I can't think straight. She asks so calmly I start to think she may have not asked at all. Is she asking me if I am a virgin? If I fuck her sons?

"Y/n, dear calm down." She sooths me.

When I finally calm down enough to sit back up in the water, I turn around to face her. Neytiri 's arm turns with me, slipping from my back to my shoulder. She has a look of concern on her face as she looks over me.

"W-what did y-you say?" I am still stuttering.

"It is normal to take more than one sexual partner in ones life." Her eyes find mine and don't brake contact when she speaks. What is she talking about?

"I-uh. Y-you. W-what are y-you s-saying." I can't even get a solid word out.

"It is not unheard of but some women even take another sexual partner after they have a mate." Her voice is still calm as she speaks. Her words are like gospel as she shares this new information to me. A new though fills my brain and my chest feels hope. "Are you planning on being with them both?"

"I thought-"

"Your mother has not mothered you well." She interrupts. This time when she insults my mom I am no longer filled with anger, but a new sense of understanding. I am starting to get what Netyiri means.

"Even after a mate? Really?" A sudden burst of hope runs through me. I could have both of them? "Can you explain it more to me?" She smiles at me new found hope.

"I had a friend who was in love with two men. She loved them both dearly. But she was betrothed to one and not the other. She mated with her betrothed, the love of her life. Only they shared the Tsaheylu but she took both of them inside her."

My head is spinning. She took both of them inside her. That sounds like my dream. This had to be too good to be true. "Surly they were shamed my the village. What about Eywa? Were they happy!"

"With age mates die. People find new ways go get needs met. The village knows this. Eywa blessed them with years and years of happiness, Y/n. Tashik knows all that goes on in the village." She chuckles out. "Now turn around and let me wash your hair out."

Her hand on my shoulder pushes me back around away from facing her. Then she begins to finish the last of my de-braiding and the starts to wash the waves out of my hair. I still can't seem to rap my head around the whole thing. Part of me is embarrassed she is telling me to be intimate with both of her sons. So much so I can feel my face heat up.

"Why would you be comfortable with your son's sharing me?" My voice is just a whisper. I feel ashamed. What if Eywa hears me.

"You make them happy, Y/n."

---------

Nether me or Neytiri felt the need to say much after that. Once she had finished washing my hair she took me back to my hut. To both of our surprises my mother was actually there.

They both helped me get dressed. Helping me slide into the beaded items once I had changed into my red loin cloth and small stringed top. Neytiri slid the beaded anklets onto my legs while my mother slid on my bangles. Though I didn't miss the way my mother eyed my bruised knuckles.

The whole ordeal was silent. Thankfully not the awkward kind. Just the soothing and comforting silence. Neytiri finished up on my by wrapping my tail in small patterns with some red fabric before she left. Needing to make sure her boys were dressed and groomed for the night.

Even after Neytiri left my mother and I didn't speak. She was lacing up my beaded necklace behind me. Once she was finished, she wrapped her shawl around me and took a step back. Her eyes seemed to be taking me in. Looking for any imperfections.

When she didn't find any she gave me a small smile and patted me shoulder before leaving the hut. Muttering something about 'may Eywa bring you good luck tonight'. It wasn't surprising that she left me this time. I was glad to be left alone, for the first time all day I had a moment to myself.

I was looking at my body. Taking it all in. I felt amazing. Flat, straight hair. With two small braids in the front, tucked behind my ears, to keep the hair out of my face. I can't help but run my hand over my neck were my betrothal beads are. It feels so strange under my fingers.

My anxiety from this morning comes back in waves as I see the sun as just set. I know I only have minutes before the ceremony begins. Before I have to dance Infront of all of the clan. I hope the boys think I look good. I hope Eywa grants me a mate.

A horn goes of in the distance, a call that the ceremony will start soon. I have to start making my way to center camp. With one last glance down at my body I head out the hut.

It doesn't take long to make it to the center of the camp. There is a huge fire in the center and many people are sat around ready and excited for their younger clan members. I make my was through the crowd to find the other girls. My eyes are pealed to possibly catch a glimpse of the two boys. But there are so many people to look though that I give up.

I find the group of girls. They are all dressed up too. They look so much prettier than me. In bright colors and feathers my outfit seems out of place. I make eye contact with Eyrina. She has a bruised cheek and a busted lip. I feel bad. She looks me up and down then smirks and looks away. I feel small here. Mo'at comes over to us and explains how to start. She putts me at the front of the line, to walk out. Then tells me to start when the drums start.

Mo'at leave out from where we are to the center of the circle where all the clan members sit around the fire. Saying something along the lines of how exciting this night is and how the ceremony is about to begin. She then makes her way up to where her and the sullys sit for meals. The boys are missing from their usual seats, meaning they must be in the crowd somewhere.

Its all overwhelming. Between the bright light of the fire, the whole clan watching, and Eyrina behind me I feel the need to cry. I can't ruin this for myself though. I hold the tears in and wait for the music to start.

It is soft at first, when the first drum hits. Then get louder and louder and people start to clap to the beat. My body moves on it own accord out to the fire. I can't hear the girls behind me, But I know they are following me. With each beat my feet make contact with the ground. Pulling me further into the center and the eventually around the fire.

I decide right then and there that the only way I can do this is with my eyes closed. I can feel the beat in my chest. The peoples claps in my ears. Then I let go. Suddenly it isn't me moving my body anymore. Its Eywa. Its the heat from the fire. The breeze in the air. The hum of the forest. I am lost in the moment and it feels great.

I spin and dance around the fire for what feels like hours. I take a look around at the other girls. They all have this look on their face, like they have never felt more free. I can feel a smile spread on my face. I hope I look like that. The beat of the drums is now a fast pace. We are all skipping and hoping around the fire is this huge circle at a much faster pace. I close my eyes again. The need to pray to Eywa floods my brain.

A string of many words of thanks and hope comes from my mouth. I make it around the fire five more times before the music slowly fades. The claps slow down with the drums. The end of the dance is coming. I open my eyes on my final spin and steps. Then it all stops.

All the music is gone. The claps. We all stop moving. I am in our final pose. Arms out in front of me, with my palms up. Only the roar of the fire can be heard in my hear. I don't know what to expect next? Not that I thought there would be some big reveal but its just nothing. Us girls are left facing the clan spread out around the fire with our hands out.

My eyes take in others who are looking back at me. They have big smiles on their faces. I try to orientate myself to where I am around the fire. I come to the conclusion my back is not only to the fire but the place where Mo'at hits on the stage. I am sorta glad I am not face to face with the Sullys.

My breathe is labored from all the dancing, coming out in puffs. When I see her. Mo'at is circling us. She walks into my line of sight then back out. I don't move. She comes around again this time stopping at the girl on my right. She pricks her palm in one fast motion. Then tasting her blood. Then calling out a name.

A man, who I was last night at the pre-dance, steps in front of her. Taking her hands into his and pulling her further out from the fire but still in the circle. Her mate. She got a mate. Just that fast. The urge to cry comes back. What if I don't get chosen.

Mo'at walks back around out of sight. I am left trying not to ogle the new mates standing in front of my with jealousy. She is wrapped up in his arm and they are smiling and giggling. I feel sick. Mo'at doesn't come back around for some time. There is a burn in my arms. I want to drop them so bad. The burn is almost as intense as the heat coming off the fire behind me.

When I finally see Mo'at again she doesn't stop at me but the girl to my left now. The same thing happens. A prick then a taste followed by a name. Mo'at finally comes to me next. I feel like throwing up. This is it. She steps forward to me.

"You are the last one my dear." My heart sinks.

I wanted to get Neteyam or Lo'ak so bad. They must be on the other side of the fire with their new mates right now. Mo'at must see the fear on my face because she gives me a smile then quickly pricks my hand.

The pain is sharp and then it is gone. My single drop of blood finds its was into her mouth. I think I might pass out. My heart beat is so loud I can't hear anything. Her mouth moves but I have no Idea what she says. Behind her I can see people making faces. On no.

I close my eyes, preparing for the worst. Seconds pass then someone grabs my hands. The sensation scares me, I gasp at the contact. eyes popping open.

There he is standing in front on me. Dressed in his new clothes. The collar of red feathers looks made for him. Relief floods my system. This time the tears in my eyes are from happiness.

"Hey there, no need to cry little warrior." Lo'aks voice is like honey to my ears. I have to keep myself from jumping into his arms. He pulles me forward, away from the fire. The cool air is a relief on my back.

"You look, well, you look just fucking gorgeous Y/n." His eyes are taking in my body.

I am suddenly hot again. I have so Much I want to say. To ask, as my eyes take him in. His hair is straight. His collared feathers make him look huge in all the right places. He has on a new beaded and woven necklace that comes down to the top of his chest. I catch sight of the cut on his chest.

"I never got to ask you," I start as I reach up and touch the cut. "What happened?" He looks like he doesn't want to talk about it but then decides to speak anyways.

"Neteyam and I had a little fight, but it is settled now. Let me enjoy you tonight knowing your mind is on me rather than my brother okay?" He both answered my question and reminded me of tonight's main priorities. Lo'ak and me.

I hadn't realized Mo'at hand been talking, too in my own world with Lo'ak to catch what she said. The music picks back up and the clan is cheering. Lo'ak must see my confused face because he starts giggling at me.

"Let me give my mate her first dance, yeah?" My mouth falls open, this is a new side of him I've never seen. I am also taken aback by his use of 'my mate.' It fills my heart with an overwhelming feeling of joy.

"Eywa yes, please." And just like that he leads me back out to around the fire. We spend most of the night like that. Dancing together. Sometimes it's a slow song they play, other times its fast passed and a line dance. Either way by the end of three hours or so I can hardly stand.

"Can we take a brake?" I am panting out of breath. Still hand in hand with Lo'ak. He doesn't answer just leads up out of the dance floor. He is taller than me so I can't see where we are going. I don't have the energy to peer around him either, so I let him pull me to our destination. When he finally stops I see we are standing in front of the stage his family sits at. His father and mother are before us.

"Mom, Dad, I see you." He gesters out to them. I follow suit. Suddenly I am nervous. I have know the Sullys all my life yet now, as Lo'aks mate I feel like I have never met them before. Neytiri gets up from her seat and pulls me away from Lo'ak into her arms. Congratulating me. Jake pulls me into a hug when she finally lets go.

"Welcome to the family daughter." My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. A small hand tugs at mine for my attention next. I squat down to Tuk, who is all smiles too.

"Since your my sister now, can I braid your hair tomorrow?" She's not shy about her recent obsession with braiding. "Of course Tuk Tuk." I giggle.

It feels nice to finally be apart of a family who actually likes me. I stand back up to find Lo'ak still waiting for me talking to his father. Neytiri takes Tuk and excuses them both to bed so I turn and walk back to Lo'ak. His father saying something about congrats. But the look on his face is not a happy one.

"Lo'ak? Whats wrong?" I reach for him. Wrapping both my arms around his right arm. My tail wrapping around his right thigh, in hopes of comforting him. It felt weird to wrap my tail round him, only parents and mates normally do this. It feels so natural to do it with Lo'ak. I can feel his own tail wrap around my left leg.

"Kiri has gone after Neteyam." The world stops. I had been so lost in Lo'ak that I hadn't even thought of him. I figured he was with his new mate. Go after him? What does that mean?

"What!" I'm shook. My ears flattening down and my tail tightening around him. My eyes are scanning his face for answers.

"He will be fine, he is dealing with some personal issue right now." Jake try's to answer.

"He is the only one who didn't get a mate Y/n." Lo'ak clarifies. I am gunna be sick. Neteyam needed a mate this year and it had slipped through his fingers again. An ach settles into my chest. They both look at me like they are waiting for me to freak out.

Who knows any other night I would be but I don't have the energy tonight. I cling closer to Lo'ak. Our eyes finding each others. He thinks I am going to leave him to go find Neteyam, its written all over his face. I know what I have to do. I look to Jake.

"You said Kiri went to go find him?"

"Yes, but if he doesn't want to be found. He won't be..." Jake looks like he is waiting for me to snap. My eyes come back to Lo'ak, he almost looks sad.

"Lo'ak, I think we should go to bed then. I am tired and it sounds like Kiri is taking care of it." My words surprise them both. A huge smile appears on his face. He pulls me closer with his tail and bids his father a good night. He takes the through the crowd towards the huts.

I don't want to be alone tonight, the thought of Neteyam possibly being hurt and alone is killing me inside. Would it be too weird to stay the Lo'ak? we are mates after all. My brain is drawing in thoughts and my body has had enough for one day. We pause outside my hut.

"Hey could I-"

"Would you want-"

Giggles erupt between us. He still has me in his arms, So I have to pull away from him to see his face.

"You go first. Please." My voice still has a tang of giggle left in it. He is shacking his head at me with a goofy grin on his lips.

"Can you stay with me?" My heart flutters. I take no time in my reply.

"Yes, please. I would really like that." I smile back.

The walk to his hut is short, but my feel and legs are so tired from dancing all night the walk seems never ending. When we finally make it, we slip into the hut and to a side room. Lo'ak room. It kooks the same as it always does which makes me feel at home.

We help each other take off our unnecessary clothes and beads. Both of us filling the air with hushed giggles by our struggles with the items. Before crawling into the hammock. We are both left in just minimal clothing. My little top and our loin clothes, so it's strange to lay down so close to each other. We finally both quite down enough to hear only each others breath.

I am curled up with him behind me. His left arm draped over me, pulling me close. Are fingers intertwined together. Between not being around him for the past week and not touching as much in the past years I feel like I could melt away in his warm touch. This was nice. I wonder what It would be like with Neteyam.

Oh, right. Neteyam. For what feels like the millionth time tonight I feel the need to cry again and curl up into myself. What was supposed to be the happiest night of my life has now turned into a night of unease and worry. I am so caught up in my thoughts and the warmth around me I feel alone.

"Thank you Y/n," Lo'aks breath his the shell of my hear. I jump from the surprise. I can feel him chuckle behind me. from the way his chest vibrates. "For what?" I whisper back to him.

"Choosing me tonight." I can hear the happiness in his voice. My heart swells.

"No need to thank me Lo'ak, you are my betrothed." It true, it is supposed to be us choosing each other from now on regardless of my feeling for Neteyam. "My mate." The words feel strange on my tongue but nice at the same time.

"My mate, thank you Eywa." He whispers back to himself. His heat is enough to sooth me into a deep sleep.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know by DMing me so I don't miss it! @crazylokonugget @buttercake2234 @rosaryos @random-human-uwu @mayhemories @eywas-daughter @gamorxa @flower-lise @usernumder67 @rainyreens @percyjacksonspeen @aurora-starwars @bloodyziggy @noodlesfics @avatarzim @14readwritedraw96 @ducksong @jitske22 @sseleniaa @onlytays @sugas-daddy7 @queenI04 @kadu-5607 @whos3rn @champagnelovers101 @emilia-the-artist​ @nmedina8611 @bitchotine @macaronnv @hooman-tree @peicksgf @godess-of-mist @optimisticherolightpanda @mashiromochi @hotmarveladdict @ditsydaydream @wonieeee @ashtyb @coldlamaspersonspy @leilaniers @heartzz4p @dearmoonz @ittosnumberonefan @lizziesfirstwife @fantasy-addict354 @neteyamsalive @arminsgfloll @bxnnywriting @victoriuss @bandomonia @soberbabe @a111318 @countdrywall @thecapybara526 @mashiromochi @imbiafandbored @leilaniers @neteyamslover @melllinaa @froglogblog @chocolottes @23victoria @senassn @arminsgfloll @pwallettes @cawi00 @dakotali @shrnaj @atokirina-writings An: Hey Guys!!1 did you miss me? I missed you! Anyways here is part 6. I.ve been so busy with school it's crazy. Ill be writing everyone who sent me requests all day tomorrow so that exciting. Also this is what I thought her ceremonial fit looked like! ^^^ OOO okay and the next part is gunna be smut so be ready ;)

[goldensunfyre]

don’t want no other shade of blue, but you (part 2 of 2) (neteyam x reader)

AO3 version if you prefer reading over there

part 1

summary: (the confusing timeline and glimpses of life between Neteyam and a human girl.) (part 2, ending)

warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, the angst is back with a fervor but HAPPY ENDING, no use of y/n, aged-up characters, not canon-compliant, everybody lives, unrealistic lore (sorry james cameron), human!reader

little note from author: thank you all for the notes and reactions!!!! i wrote everytime i had some time outside of work and did my best to get this out as fact as i could! this is the end of the two big parts, but i think i’ll write more one-shots around neteyam x human!reader (whether before or after part 2) so expect some stuff!!! will not stop writing neteyam anyway, the brainrot is too present lmao enjoy!!!

this is also like…9k words, almost 10k…BYE

Continuar a ler

[goldensunfyre]

Not Ready to Say Goodbye, (please don't go).

pairing: neteyam x omaticaya!reader / sully family x omaticaya!reader (platonic).

summary: even though the war with the sky-people was over, a new one began to brew in your mind. the ecplise is coming, meaning you only have a few hours to prepare to say goodbye to your yawntu (beloved).

note: after seeing this in the movies, i wondered how the sully family went about their preparations for neteyams funeral. but i put my own twist to it! readers gender is not specified. i hope you love this gutwrenching angst xx thank you for tuning in to my first writing i posted here <33 feedback is much appreciated!

cw: atwow spoilers, grief, longing, reminiscing, mentions of death, implications of a funeral, reoccurring mentions of blood, neytiri crying, sad!comfort lo'ak, sully family in pain😭🫶🏻.

wordcount: 1.8k

You don't really know how you ended up in the Sully's mauri. All you can recall is how cold Neteyam's usually warm body felt. How his blood painted not only your hands - but Lo'aks too. It was coating the armbands he crafted all for you, the hands he had held countless of times.

Your eyes shut in anguish, letting the all-consuming rage encompass every inch of your entire being. It was devastating, your mind reliving what was his last moments. He shouldn't have left this world in so much pain. Not when all he did was protect and love the people around him so fiercely.

It was too sudden, you were scrambling to try seize every single memory, experience. Everything that was left of his essence. It pained you to now realise that you were doomed from day one. You should have never challenged him that you could catch a bigger fish. You should have never fallen for him.

Your mind was stumbling on what you shouldn't have done. But what about everything you'll never get to do again?

When everyone would fall asleep, even back home - their home away from the ocean. The rainforest. It was just you, Neteyam, and the stars. The time where you'd share your deepest thoughts, whispers and quiet laughter. Afterall, your cheeks always ached from smiling so much on those nights. Oh what you would do to relive that all over again.

To hop on your Ikrans and fly away to your own little sanctuary, an oasis away from curious eyes. Where you nurtured one another, grew with one another - learnt about your feelings for eachother.

You woke up yesterday thinking that there'd be many more ecplises to come. And on those nights, he would be there. Your protector, your warrior, your Neteyam.

But now all you can see is his wistful eyes as he finally voiced out what he had been telling you in secret since the day you all left to seek further refuge.

"I want to go home." You do recall that.

You recall your fingers tucking his hair behind his ears after he had said so. The beads you gifted him, the ones you braided into his hair only a few days ago - glinting. Your reassuring smile beaming, wavering, sinking. And his eyes held pure desperation, such strong will to live.

Why didn't you live, Neteyam?

The next time you laid your head against his chest. There was nothing, you could only hear your own heartbeat drumming in your ears from anxiety. The heart that used to beat for his family, for your love, for your future - now having no rhythm.

It was ironic, considering how one of things you two were complimented most on was the rhythm of your day to day lives. How even when you were apart from him. When his dad would whisk him away on hunting trips. Or you had to go look for medicinal leaves, your hearts were steady. Because you knew when you'd return, you would be there for eachother.

That was your rhythm, your momentum.

And it was now all gone because of a bullet wound.

"Y/n?" There Neytiri stood, a bowl of warm water cradled in her hands - along with a cloth. You couldn't bare to maintain eye contact, because through her... all you saw was him.

She set the bowl down, as she sat infront of you. Neytiri gazed down at you, frowning. Because the caregiver in such situations for you would usually be her son.

She had adored you from the moment you graced Pandora. Your mother was her dearest friend. After losing her to the sky people when she took a bullet for her. She had to witness your father lose his grips on sanity as you were left to grow up all alone. That was when she and Jake officially took you under their wings.

While your current state was more than understandable, it worried her greatly. For Neytiri, it felt like history was repeating itself.

For once, she did not know what to say. She knew she had to tread lightly, she would push away voicing her direct concerns for the time being.

Your conversations always flowed, it didn't matter if it was as simple of a question as "how was your day?" What mattered is that she continuously rooted for you. Even more so when she witnessed you and Neteyam acting a little too similar to how her and jake had at the beginning of everything. When she realised her feelings for Jake held much more weight than she would have ever thought. But no words could soothe the grief you have submerged yourself into. She lost her first born son, and you lost your soulmate for every lifetime.

Your eyes glossed over as the damp cloth wiped away the last of what you would have of Neteyam. His blood, removed from your skin - transferred to the cloth. And you don't know why such a simple act felt like an axe dragging achingly slow across your heart. But it did.

Maybe because it was the last ever thing of his that would touch your skin. It felt too raw, too open. Your mind wanted to beat itself up, because it wasn't his hand, or his touch. It was his blood. His blood that had caked your hands for however long. Your hands were clean, and your Neteyam was dead.

Neytiri noticing your crestfallen expression, instantaneously brought you into her arms. Into her shelter, into her warmth. And the axe just dug itself deeper. Rupturing your soul, and everything you've ever known. Neytiri looked up at the ceiling, trying her damn hardest to blink away the tears that crept up onto her. Your wails, your haunting cries would keep her awake for a long time. But she knew, if anyone would understand the hollowness she currently is immersed in - it would be you. Her horrowing cries followed yours.

You could taste your own tear's through your sobs, and they were bitter. And you were angry, so angry - at what the world had taken away from you. What you are now going to have to miss, and it cut through you. You both cried harder.

No matter where the members of the Metkayina clan was in that moment, even if they were underneath water. They would have heard it all.

Each sully entered the mauri, one after the other. Tears once again edged the surface and broke. You huddled together, desperately reaching out for eachother. None of you being able to withstand the the thought of knowing your Tsahik - Ronal, was preparing Neteyam for farewell.

After awhile, you were all too exhausted. Draining yourselves until there were no more tears physically able to escape your systems. Silence followed, then soon everyone started dispersing.

Until it was just you and Lo'ak.

His throat burned, and even the action of trying to speak seemed worlds away for him. But yet, he still croaked out, "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

Shaking your head as a sigh left you, none of this felt real to either one of you yet. "I'm sorry too, Lo'ak", you whispered, that's all you could manage right now. He heard you, he knew you're trying.

His hand reached to yours, squeezing it and holding on tightly. Almost to the point where it was painful, but you didn't even mind. You'd take anything over the numbness creeping up on you. And you two needed eachother right now, more than ever before.

Both of you sat there, holding on. You knew ecplise was coming. How could you bring yourself to say goodbye if you couldn't even move? Having to see him so lifeless once more? It felt so wrong. Only the other day, he was hugging you from behind. Did he do that yesterday? Did he do that again before he left you?

How could you say goodbye to a future you barely even began? You wanted to punch something, you wanted to curse the sky people for ever even entering Pandora's atmosphere. You'd do anything to bring him back.

Neytiri and Jake entered the mauri once again, instead this time Neytiri was holding a smaller bowl - now full of paint. They had already prepped themselves for later... how?

They sat themselves before you two, Jake leaning over to give you a kiss on the forehead. You truly appreciated it, you couldn't even begin to fathom how he must be feeling right now. The man had not been able to speak a proper word to you since he carried you onto Tsireya's ilu when trying to make you guys head back to the village. You were too out of it to travel back yourself.

He didn't know where to start, where to end. Suddenly Jake was reminded of the words Lo'ak had told him about the ways of how the water held itself in the eyes of Ewya.

Before he and Neytiri followed Ronal and Tonowari to the dead tulkun the other day. Neteyam had asked for his fathers guidance, on how to properly court you, to prepare himself in the near future to have you as his mate. All the words and advice he had spoken, passed on with Neteyam to the great mother. And he couldn't endure that at the moment, he was on the brink of losing himself even further.

Both of them painted your faces, you wished it would have taken a lifetime. Because it was dark out, already - and that meant Ecplise had arrived.

"We'll meet you outside." Neytiri spoke softly, and solemnly. The pain was so evident in just those few words. It made you want to shrivel up even more. Suddenly sticking yourself to the walls of the mauri and never leaving seemed alot nicer then what was awaiting you.

You looked to Lo'ak, and he stared back at you. His hand fell into yours again, but this time you were the one that squeezed. Truth be told, none of you were prepared. Let alone, ready. None of you would ever be, as you were all under the impression that there was more time. Life is cruel that way.

Before you knew it you were both standing up, making your way out into the night. Time had crept up on you once again. Taking a deep breath you looked out into the ocean, you wish you could bring him back to his true home. But it seems this will have to do. You knew a part of his heart was with the water surrounding you when he first dove into it.

It all feels surreal, but it was inevitable. Goodbyes can be agonising if the world demands it.

"Ma Neteyam, you can rest now."

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

[goldensunfyre]

Mission Futile

Summary: Ever since the luminary Toruk Makto soared to the skies in a triumphal victory, life on Pandora has been nothing but peaceful bliss. But gossip spreads fast in the villages of the Omatikaya clan, for there are hushed murmurs that sky people have returned — and that after their previous defeat, they are feeling rather blue. Colonel Miles Quaritch is a shell of his former self, being reborn into an avatar with the memories of the man he once was. Will you be able to redirect him to his redemption; to his new life? or will he drag you down with him?

Chapter 1 — Papa Dragon

—

As the sun travelled behind one of the many stellar bodies of Pandora, the eclipse had commenced. The forest was now engulfed in a world of darkness, the sun no longer present in the midst of the night sky. However, the lands of the indigenous had never been more alive.

The forest was glowing with the faint luminescence of the local algae, whilst the stars glimmered in the dark abyss. Thumping of feet was heard echoing as communicational yapping was reflected off of the surrounding shrub.

“Win-säpi! Win-säpi!” Hurry yourself! Hurry yourself! Pleaded a child, a small one at that. The little one’s voice was tainted with worry, desperation apparent in her tone.

What could be inducing this fright? Is it an unruly thanator chasing them, with it’s agile and sylph-like body dashing through the forest?

“Ayoeng zene du ne'ìm srekrr eclipse!” We must be back before eclipse! Reinforced another young warrior, his eyes dashing from log-to-log, determining the best route to travel through.

You were trailing shortly behind the two children; your strides slowed to remain behind the pair. With a teasing snicker, you clicked your tongue in a short response, mumbling incoherent words on how slow the kids were.

The children knew their way back to the village from here, the path practically engraved in the forest. “Salew.” Go. You hushed, your tone gentle and calming.

You told the children to go ahead, for their father had strictly said that they must be home before the eclipse. After all, that must of been what all the fright was about. You, however, were eager to venture into the depths of the forest. To reminisce in the beauty of Eywa, the Great Mother.

Dashing through the trees, you felt as if your heartbeat was synced with the heartbeat of the forest. Your long, wavy hair stuck against your back when you made those quick turns. It was humid, and the atmosphere was suffocating, but you felt alive.

Coming to a swift halt, you found yourself in a beautiful setting; woodsprites floating down to give you a spiritual greeting. One resting on your hand, your ears perked. It was a small village that you lived in, however the peaceful tranquility of being alone in the forest was effortlessly comforting. Though, the consolation of the land swiftly vanished as you heard a twig snap.

Woodsprite flung up into the air, you reached for the bow which hung on your back, drawing an arrow as your eyes frantically searched for any movement.

“Wìntxu! Wìntxu!” Show! Show! You challenged, the arrow drawing further behind your cheekbone. Your placid face was now scrunched into a menacing growl, teeth bared as you hissed. If this were to be a fellow foe, or even a friend, they would be formally greeted by an arrow to the face.

“Easy, easyyy” Spoke a man behind the bush, exaggerating his words to create that soothing effect. It sure as hell was not working. His thick accent coated your ears like glue, it was foreign but familiar.

Slowly, he emerged from the bush, hands held high in defeat as his gun was disregarded on the floor. The bald man was Na’vi, yet accessorised with military uniform. You had heard from village-talk that sky people were able to pass as alien, through ‘avatars.’ The legendary Toruk Macto, Jake Sully, had been rumoured to originally be born of the sky people. With your wit, you had quickly assumed that this was in fact one of them. A demon. They were back.

“Vrrtep.” Demon. You spat, hostile chittering emerging from the depths of your throat. You were quick to note the five fingers attached to the avatar’s hand, a useless gimmick that acted as a parasitic leech to their body. Ironically, it conveyed bitter-sweet symbolism. It reminded you of how the sky people — those demons, leeched to your land. They were utterly useless, parasites with no regards to their host as they take from your planet.

Nose flared with rage, your fingers became loosely intertwined with the string of the bow; arrow ready to be flung though the air. Your hesitation was minimal, and your aim? nothing but lethal.

Focused on nothing but the bald-headed man that lay vulnerable, you were oblivious to whatever else was around you. And behind gritted teeth, you scowled. “Oe nìnew toltem ngeyä faoi re’o mì.” I will shoot your smooth head in.

Just as you released the arrow, which was right on route, something charged into you. The arrow now flung into an unpredictable orbit, merely missing the desired target. You were furious.

With a thud, you came in contact with the ground; grunting as air was violently ripped from your lungs. With a mouthful of dirt, you frantically crawled forward to your bow, which was knocked a tail-length in front of you. Just before you were able to latch onto its handle, something grasped your ankles, dragging you further away.

“I’m tellin’ ya’, Lyle, these natives are harder to keep still than a kid on Christmas mornin’—mm.” Scowled a voice from behind, incoherent groaning laced in his words as he dragged your body across the floor.

Foreign words rumbling through your physique, you managed to manoeuvre your body to face the person who held a stern grip on your ankles. Mud was covering your face, leaving your left eye wired shut to avoid the sludge from infecting your vision. This alien induced intimidation merely by his stance, and had a menacing grin smeared on his face. This was an avatar constructed to be fatal, not one that grabs your ankles just to tickle your feet.

Using your free hand to wipe the mud from your eye, your gaze deepened; view firmly fixated on the outsider before you. Your unruly tail strummed on the floor, core muscles tensing to ready yourself. Just as you were about to hurl yourself up onto the soldier in front of you, a tribal war-call was heard echoing from the trees above.

“Colonel?” The alien with no hair inquired, picking up his gun to point at the tree tops.

Meanwhile, your ears were perked, instantly recognising that familiar yowl. What should be relief clogging your airways like phlegm, was instead a thick layer of impending doom. These were not warriors sent to your aid, but instead the small children YOU had sent home earlier. The children of your village’s olo'eyktan, to whom you love both so dearly.

The man previously labelled ‘Colonel’ was attentive to your horrid expression, your four digits curled around your mouth in disbelief. Your once vibrant, challenging eyes were now clouded with uncertainty and worry. All traces of hostility had been drained from your body, your posture now hunched in an anxious manner.

“Eh? You speak bird? What in the hell was that?” The Colonel berated. Inching closer to your face, the man forcefully grabbed your jaw to redirect your attention to his demand — no, to redirect your gaze to his fierce yellow eyes.

Your brow-bone furrowed, ears sensitive to the sounds of your surroundings. “Skxawng.” Moron. You sibilated, desperately trying to free your jaw from his firm grasp.

Grip tightening, you felt blood rush to your head, mandible being crushed under the seeping irritation of the recombinant.

“I said—” began the Colonel, though his frustrated blabbering soon came to a swift halt.

A piercing sound tore through the atmosphere, an arrow rippling through the wind. Unfortunately, it lost momentum as it travelled closer to the ground. The shot was sloppy, lacking strength to deliver a deadly blow. You cursed Eywa — not only for bringing the children to such a situation, but for gifting them with aim worse than a man high on hallucinogenic mushrooms.

Quaritch loosened his grip on your jaw, only to push you into the bald savage — Lyle. Your movements were agonisingly restricted, the man’s hand tugging at your hair; causing your neck to jerk upwards. Your head was locked in position, body unable to escape from his grip. You snarled, canines grinding together to make a rigorous chitter.

Bending over with a weary exhale, the ex-marine plucked the arrow from the ground; one hand on his thigh to anchor his weight, while the other held the arrow for intricate inspection. Tongue lathering his canines with saliva, a grumble of amusement echoed from deep within the recom’s chest.

“Pff’terr, watch out y’all, we got a highly trained sniper up in these woods.” Quaritch mocked, tongue clicking to the roof of his mouth. His knees strained as he raised, twiddling the arrow around his fingers. For the brief moment he was squatting, you forgot how colossal his frame truly was.

You could barely even call it an arrow. It appeared to be a twig snapped straight from a branch. The end of the arrow was wrapped with leaves to compensate for feathers, making it aerodynamically unstable. The tip of the arrow was barely carved, hardly shape, and only potent if shoved up someone’s ass. It was a mockery of their finest weaponry, to which the recombinant team found humorous.

Amusement was now replaced with caution as sound erupted from a nearby bush. You were mumbling a melody of your ancestors, pleading to the Great Mother for mercy. These men were ruthless, and these children? Inexperienced and foolish. They stood no chance.

In false triumph, the minuscule child came charging from the bush — focused solely on Colonel Quaritch. In her grip she held a sharp pebble, commonly used to chop up native fruit, not natives themselves. The child’s eyes flickered with flames of confidence, as if they were going to burn her alive.

“RrrrrRAHH! Shoo! Txìng peyä nì'awtu!” Leave her alone! She reviled, almost being in the adequate proximity to pounce on the Colonel’s hard-duty shoes.

In one long swipe, the colonel yanked the little girl by her queue, lifting her from the ground. Thrashing her feet in a tantrum, she thrilled — her teeth bared in a pitched snarl.

Desperately trying to free yourself from Lyle’s grasp, you protested. Your voice now drowning in fatigue and desperation, you pleaded. “Kea! Kehe!” No! No!

“Would’dya look at this runt, mm? This one apart of your litter, sweetheart?” Quaritch questioned, brow quirking inquisitively as he peered over his broad shoulder. Although you could not see the child past his build, you could hear her squeals as her queue was strained.

Just as you were about to snap back a response, you felt Lyle’s grip loosen, a yelp shortly following.

“GUH! What the— the FUCK is that?!” Lyle sputtered, gripping at his back.

The second child, whom was male, had pounced from the trees and landed on the alien’s rear. He was now vigorously clawing the man, occasionally exhibiting primitive hisses.

Eywa had granted you with an opportunity, your pulse frantic as your pleads had been heard. With no room for hesitation, you lunged for your weapon, feet skidding on the damp ground. You culled your arrow from the ground, loading it onto your bow.

Whipping your slender body to face the troop, the arrow stretched beyond your cheekbone. Your exhausted grunts were synchronised with your hisses, while your arrow was pointed directly at your target — the Colonel.

“Let go, or I shoot.” You insisted. Shaking your loaded bow as a reminder to the recombinant; your broken english sugarcoated the vulgar aggression in your tone. With your nose flared in fury, your iris’ turned to slits. This time, you would not miss.

The Colonel now had his forearm wrapped tightly — a little TOO tightly — around the young na’vi’s neck. She flailed, gasping for breath, his spare hand pressing a gun lightly to her temple.

“You got a lot of nerve, obnoxiously wrigglin’ that god damn archery kit in my face.” The brawny alien tsk’d, motioning for his team to stand down.

The Colonel reinforced his chokehold around the young girl, pushing his gun further into the kid’s temple. You turned back to see that Lyle now held the boy securely; your fake facade of confidence slipping up for a mere moment.

“These kids mean nothin’ to me, damn. What’s it gonna be? Put the bow down, or I’ll light these mutts up.” Quaritch interrogated, your senses now overwhelmed with the stimuli of fear. Fingers now numb on the string of your bow, you could feel them slipping — you could feel yourself slipping, body trembling as you contemplated your next move.

With a shaky inhale, you withdrew your bow. You were impuissant, tail curling around your pelvis in a pitiful attempt to feel comfort.

“Okay. You let go now.” You spat, posture hunched in defeat. However, your voice was still tinged with savagery.

Colonel nodded to Lyle, a smug grin painted onto his face. If it weren’t for the circumstances, the raging pit in your stomach would have been caused by his handsome features, not because he had dangerous arsenal on standby. With his command, both children were released from the recombinant team’s grasp, staggering over to you.

“Mawey, mawey.” Calm, calm. You cooed, nudging the two children as you urged their escape. “Nìwin tul, oe nìnew nong.” Quickly run. I will follow.

With a hesitant nod, the children scampered into the safe haven of a nearby shrub. You lost sight of them instantly, finally being able to breath properly again — they were shielded. They were safe.

With no time to waste, you did not look back at the savages. Your legs mustered up any strength left to flee, heartbeat pounding as if it was about to explode. With your whole body aching, and your brain foggy, you switched to a sprint. Though, the adrenaline soon turned to dread as a sharp pain was felt in your lower thigh. Looking down at the infliction, your ears pinned to your scalp. A tranquilliser dart was heaved into your flesh.

Vision being engulfed in gloom, you could hear the faint sound of thumping footsteps, each step drawing closer to your location. Tumbling to the ground, your breathing hitched — as if your lungs were collapsing in on themselves.

“Quaritch! She’s over ‘ere!” Echoed in your mind, repeating like a broken record. Quaritch must be the name of the Colonel. You could conclude that much whilst your consciousness began to slip.

Your whole body felt as though it was sinking, that Eywa was taking back the energy you have borrowed. You weren’t scared, no — it was a rather peaceful tranquility.

With your eyelids barely open, you sharply inhaled as a blurred Colonel came into view. “Koaktan.” Old man. You blabbered, the best insult you could configure with the haze that infiltrated your mind. And with that, you shut your eyes, greeted with nothing but darkness.

[goldensunfyre]

=Monster=

Pt. 4

(Avatar)Colonel Miles Quaritch x Na’vi Reader

UH, This has multiple parts. So buckle up.

Warnings: SMUT/18+/violence/choking/pinning/overstimulation/heavy topics/Dirty talk/Virginity Loss/knife play maybe/size kink/FUTURE SMUT/Stockholm Syndrome/fingering/pet names/manhandling/manipulation/spanking/etc.. it’s nasty up in this piece.

P.S. uuuh stuff spoken in Na’vi is Italic and stuff readers thinking is blue

Summary: This takes place in ATWOW Aaand you’re neytiris older sister, and you get captured in order to save jakes children and spider. <3

Authors note: this chapter most likely has smut so like if you ain’t into that then scurry away. <3

P.s. Oh yes this is nasty nasty.

———————————————————————

Your ears would fall back as you felt a powerful emotion radiate from Miles as he stood up from beside you. ‘Jealously’ was your first thought. Miles stood there for a moment looking off into the distance. And you wondered what he was thinking, that was until you noticed the sun had gone down, leaving you with Miles, alone, in the forest, in the dark. In the dark. And something about the jealously that was oozing from his body like a bad smell had your stomach and toes turning.

“Hey princess, let’s play a game.”

Miles tone was one you hadn’t heard him tune before. Almost zombie or robot like. It didn’t sound like him. Something sinister was hidden beneath. Your ears would perk at his words and tone as you looked up to the tall blue man, his vest and pants something you’d grown used to. ‘It looked good on him’ and his waist. ‘God his waist was so gas damned attractive.’ The thought had you biting your lip and tail whip as you stood your body visibly stiff and you on edge.

“It is eclipse.” You’d state in protest. As you began to fidget with your hands.

Miles would stare at you his expression plain and dead as he tilt his head. The expressionless face that stared at you had your heart rate picking up as your fingers twitched. After what felt like forever of getting stared at by a zombie Miles would finally show emotion and smirk and lick his canines very slowly. Very very slowly his tung swirling the sharp tooth. The sight had your thighs clenching.

“Perfect.” Miles would exaggerate the ‘purrr’ in ‘perfect’. As he raised his brows.

A nervous laugh would catch in your throat. But then something inside started to bubble.. A courage. A playful courage.

“What game?” You’d ask your ears falling back at the word game. ‘This isn’t going to be a game.’

“Hide and seek sweet cheeks.” Miles would coo his words in your language his eyes lighting up and pupils dilating the once yellow orbs now almost completely a black abyss. The sight had you taking a step back.

‘He’s gonna hunt me’ your tail would freeze then frantically wag at the thought.

“What are the rule-“

“One..two..three..four…” miles would interrupt you boldly as he gave you a look that said ‘go anywhere and I’ll find you’ that ghost of a grin that you’d come to hate and love so much plastered onto his face as his animalistic eyes stared into yours.

It took a few staggered steps back and an almost trip onto your arse but quickly you’d gain control of your feet and rush to get as far as possible from miles. ‘He doesn’t know the forest like I do’ you thought ‘I don’t even know what he’s counting to’ your feet quietly padded against the floor as your ran thought the bushes and three iridescence of the forest whooshing past your eyes. ‘He can’t maneuver around like I do.’ You told yourself. But something inside you deep down said ‘oh he could.’ But you were to confident to believe that thought. You were a better hunter than Netyiri, quieter, quicker, stronger, swifter, more agile and far less forgiving. A better warrior too. There was no way he was gonna catch you.

Swiftly you’d make your way onto and up a tree perching yourself onto the strong branches, it was dark, and the leaves would cover you. You would see him before he saw you. You were sure of it. ‘What was I so scared for?’ You asked yourself in a prideful tone.

“Ready of not here I come princess.” Your head would snap at the direction of Miles voice his words quiet and distant but loud and unwantingly close. that logic didn’t make sense to you. You’d shake your head trying to rid your ears of his words.

Then you were quiet. Your tail still and ears perked and listening. For anything. But there was nothing, the forest was quiet. Too quiet. It’s like it knew, like Ewya knew. Knew you were being hunted. You’d look down into the iridescence of the forest looking for the man you loved and craved. ‘Where was he’ those were the only words circuiting through your brain. Still you sat perched in the tree, listening. waiting.

“Come out, come out wheeereever yoooou are.” Miles would sing his tone sinister.

It was then you saw him taking playful steps, long and playful steps. Almost skipping down the forest. stopping under the branches you were perched on his ears perked and tail still. He was listening. Stupidly your sweaty hands would slip causing a small branch to crack and fall. Your eyes would widen as you gasped. quickly and quietly you’d make your way back to the thickness of the three to hide just incase he saw you through the leaves of where you had been perched. Your heart was racing. You eyes wide and breaths forcefully quiet as you brought a hand to cover your mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(Miles POV)~~~~~~~~~~

‘I could smell her, her slick, her arousal, her fear, her sweat. I could smell her. And lord if she smelt that good all I could think about is how she would taste.’ My body was going crazy, zings and shocks pulsing all over. How easily I could’ve scaled the tree and taken her right there. But I wanted to play with her. Play with her mind. Make her feel like pray. Make her feel weak. Make her feel dominated. I wanted to hunt her. A smirk would cross my face when a branch from right where she was perched fell next to my feet.

“Oh my, that’s odd. Very odd. Branches don’t really just fall from trees. Eh, it’s probably nothing.” I’d say in a teasing tone. I knew she was watching me. Listening. Slowly I’d lift my head to look to the branches. She wasn’t there anymore. But ‘she was close.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~(End of Miles POV)~~~~~~~~

You knew Miles was mocking you with his words and actions. And it annoyed you. With an annoyed noise your ears would flick back as you quietly climbed down the tree being extra careful to make no sounds. Your heart was still racing. Then the thought hit you.

“I can escape…” you’d mutter to yourself quietly. You voice was filled with hope and your eyes lighted up at the thought. the situation now becoming 10x more serious to you. ‘Run. Run and don’t look back’ Quickly you’d dart from the tree dodging your way around the plants, bushes and rocks and fungi. Everything was at steak now. Everything. ‘I can see Netyiri and Netayum!’

You’d never ran faster, ever. At least that’s what you thought. Suddenly there was loud footsteps from behind you. Fast and loud. Chasing after you. And they were coming fast. You’d stop and look to your right and left the footsteps getting louder and louder, closer and closer by the second. ‘Jump behind the rock.’ In a desperate attempt you’d roll and hurdle yourself behind a large rock quickly putting your back to it and raising your hand quickly, to cover your mouth. You breathing was frantic and loud. So you had to quiet it down some how.

“I can hear you sweet thing, why don’t you just come out?�� Miles would coo “are yoooou over HERE!” Your body would freeze. But his head never popped from either side of the rock.

A small whine of would leave your throat. A whine of anxiety and panic. You felt like a small animal, being hunted by a big bad wolf. ‘Your big bad wolf’ you’d never felt like prey until you met Miles.

An animalistic growl would gurgle from miles throat his steps louder than before and his breathing more frantic. He sounded hungry. ‘He sounded hungry.’ The thought had you covering your stomach ad closing your legs.

“I can smell you.” Miles would snap as he jumped over the rock and quickly turned to face you. His eyes were crazy, and his pupils were blown out. His mouth was agape and his canines were shining under the moon light. “I gotcha.”

‘Run’ quickly you’d jump from the rock only making it a few hurried steps away before your shoulders were grabbed and you were thrown back against the rock a grunt would leave your throat, the cool and rough surface of the stone causing the breath to hitch in your throat. A warm arm snaking its way around your waist as a firm and solid body would press against yours pressing you back against the rock.

“Looks like I’ve won.” Miles Tone was sinister as he rubbed his cheek against yours as he whispered into your ear. A zing flowing through your body. Slowly he’d pull back to look into your yellow eyes.

“And?” You’d ask your body tingling with his strong warm arm around your waste.

“I want my reward, princess.” Miles would give you a grin as he puckered his lip his free hand going to your cheek. Lightly he’d rub his thumb against your soft blue flesh. Your cheeks were warm and flushed.

“What do you want?” You’d ask. It was a stupid question really. Deep down you already knew the answer to his question.

“You.” Miles would pull you closer to him his body easily dominating yours not only in size but power as well. your warmths mixing with his. “I want you (Y/N).” A zing would flow through your body as you stared into his eyes.

‘He wants me..’ you’d stare into Miles eyes him doing the same his hand still resting on your cheek. ‘I want you to..’ you didn’t have the courage to say those words out loud. Not yet. Miles ears would flick back as he leant his forehead against yours. His cup on your cheek getting more firm. He wanted you. You could tell. Your hand would go to cup the one he had on your cheek The closeness of him had the butterflies in your stomach soaring.

“And don’t say you don’t want me back.. because I can fucking smell you. I can smell you and it’s making me feral princess.”

A low growl would leave Miles throat his breath mixing with yours as your foreheads rested against each other’s. You’d bite your lip as you brought your one of your hands to miles face and the other to one of his biceps giving the muscle a light squeeze. ‘I love his strong arms.’ Your ears would fall back as You’d leant to kiss Miles only to pull back in defeat. Miles would chuckle and shake his head. Quickly he’d move his hand from your cheek and tangle his fingers in your hair. Hastily hed pull your face to his smashing his blue lips onto yours. This kiss was different from the first time. It screamed ‘I want you’ Miles was relentless his lips were relentless, full of passion and technique ‘he’s done this before’ the thought had your ears falling back. But that thought was quickly replaced by Miles spreading your legs with his knee pushing his firm quad against your core. The friction from his pants and the pressure on your bundle of nerves had your mouth fall agape as you stared into his eyes.

A deep chuckle would leave miles your reaction filling him with pride As his ears perked. Miles took the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, quickly dominating yours. he was dominating every inch of your body. He was dominant. Everything he did had you feeling fuzzy. Again miles would grind his clothed quad against your clit this time a small moan would leave your throat as you threw your head back braking the kiss. A trail of spit from the two of you breaking as you pulled away. Miles would stare at you his eyes watching everything you did. He was like a hawk. An apex predator. Your hand would shoot to miles shoulders when you felt his breath on your neck your thighs clenching around the one between your leg. The slick from your core had begun to drip onto miles pants a feeling of guilt washing over your. ‘I’m so sensitive’ you thought ‘he’s gonna kill me.’

You’d bite your lip when you felt Miles hot and wet tongue like a stripe up your neck the action causing your whole body to break out in goosebumps.. ‘Jesus.’ The hand miles had in your hair would pull your head back aggressively leaving your neck more exposed. An animalistic growl would leave miles throat as he licked his canines and stared at your neck. Im a flash Miles would latch onto your soft and delicate blue flesh his teeth quickly sinking into your flesh easily breaking the skin. A silent scream would leave your throat as thick blood ran down your neck. Your blood. The feeling of his teeth sinking into your flesh and your blood running down your neck had your thighs clenching and butterflies fluttering. Slowly miles would remove his teeth from your neck and lick the puncture wound he’d just created suckling the blood. His head would dip to your chest slowly licking up the blood that had oozed from the wound. A groan would leave his throat.

“Y- you just bit me..” your voice was small and horse as miles hands went to your waist. Your grip on his shoulder tight and harsh. You were gonna leave bruises for sure.

Miles would chuckle his breath still on your neck. Gently he’d give your neck a small peck before lifting his head do face you.

“Yeah, now everyone will know your mine princess.” Miles would look down on you a grin crossing his beautiful blue features. “I’ve marked you, I’ve marked you cause I want ever god damned creature on this planet to know your mine.” Miles grip on your hair would tighten the thought of you with another man obviously angering him.

Your eyes were glossy, skin hot and body sensitive and on edge. Your breaths were labored and fast. Miles would kiss your forehead and give your hips a tight squeeze. Another animalistic grin crossing his features would have your thighs clenching and toes curling. ‘What’s he thinking?’

“Ride my thigh, you’ve already soaked my pants. Might as well, make it worse since you’re such dirty girl. Can’t even keep her juices from dripping onto me.” Miles would shake his head in a scolding manner.

Your ears would fall back at his words. The degrading nature had your insides clenching around noting and you biting your lip once more. Miles would dig his thigh into your core with much more force a look of annoyance crossing his face as he puckered his lips. His grip on your hips getting tighter.

“Ride. My. Fucking. Thigh. I’ll be nice once, then I won’t.” Miles ears would fall back another sinister grin crossing his face.

‘I’ve never done this.’ Is all you wanted to scream and protest back. But his dominating nature had you submitting far to easily. Slowly you’d buck your hips back and fourth dragging your core and clit against miles quad painfully slow. Miles head would dip down to watch the show his eyes lighting up at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. The feeling was so foreign and pleasurable. It had you catching your lip between your teeth and pulling miles face towards yours.

“Kiss me, please.” You’d beg as you ground your hips faster chasing the knot starting to form in your stomach. ‘I’m to sensitive.’ Your ears had fallen back. And your tail had wrapped around Miles leg.

“Your wish is my command princess.” With that miles would latch his lips back onto yours.

The kiss was soft and hungry, teeth clashed and tongues danced Miles experienced tongue obviously dominating yours. Your hands would wrap around his neck as you chased your high. Soft whimpers would leave your throat each time your clit dragged against his combat pants. The friction sending you into an abyss of pleasure you hadn’t felt heifer. Your mouth would fall open as your breaths got more frantic. Your bucks would become unrhythmic and slow. Miles knew you were close, you were so sensitive and readable. Just like a virgin should be.

“That’s right ride my thigh princess. You’re doing such a good job” miles would coo in your ear as he placed his hands back on your hips.

You’d break the kiss and dig your head in between miles neck and shoulder as the coil in your stomach got tighter. You’d moan his name Just as your coil was about to snap and send you into an abyss of pleasure you’d only ever heard about in stories from your friends and sister. Quickly miles would take his knee from your crotch and chuckle. An annoyed sound would leave your throat as your hands clutched onto miles shoulders. Out of frustration you’d push Miles away and Hiss. ‘Asshole’ He’d barley budge as he grabbed your writs and pinned them to the rock above you.

“You really think I’d let you cum? No, no sweetheart. The first time you cum is gonna be on my cock.” Miles would spit in anger. His fierce eyes would search yours for a quick second. then they’d soften, they’d soften as he gave you a look that said ‘if you’re okay with that.’ And you’d nod.

With that miles would place his lips back onto yours only breaking the kiss to slip his vest and shirt off. Your hands would go to miles chest as you broke the kiss. placing your forehead onto miles chin as you looked at his upper body. ‘He’s so beautiful’

“You’re beautiful..” you’d say barley above a whisper as you stared at the man. Memorized by his body. ‘He had such a slim waist.’

your fingers would trace the lines of his abs and blue stripes of his pattern the coldness of your fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Shivers getting sent down his spine. Slowly you’d trail you fingers down further and further trailing his V line until you hit the hem of his pants. The Tent in his pants was visible and it had your mouth watering. A small pur would fill the air as your hands trailed back up miles body a groan leaving his throat as he threw his head back in annoyance his lips Puckering. Harshly his hand would grip your hair yet again as he brought you up to kiss him. His teeth would pull at your bottom lip as he ground his hips against you another groan leaving him as his hands went to pinch your nipples.

“You’re gonna me me feral princess.” Miles would bark as he continued to kiss you slowly taking your body from the rock and lowering you to the floor.

Miles would pull you onto his lap the friction causing you to whimper and buck your hips against his.

“Oh fuck it.” Miles would say to himself as his strong arms flipped you onto your belly your hips in the air. His hands pushing your face into the dirt before he Harshly pulled your hair back with a growl as he leant over you his tongue licking a stripe up your ear the feeling causing them to fall back. Miles would growl. your scalp burning. “Isn’t this the position we were in when we first met princess?” Miles would ask his voice dark and full of lust. “Only the roles are reversed, and now I got the pretty little princess right where I want her.” Your eyes would light up as the memory flashed before your eyes.

“Yeah I got her where I want her.”

Miles hand would slap your ass the harshness and unexpectedness of the action causing you to jump. Your heart would race thinking about Miles words a pleasurable fear pooling between the heat of your thighs causing a slick to drip down the inside of the muscles. Another slap would have a hiss escape your throat. His hands were heavy and rough. 3 more painful slaps to your ass would have your nails digging into the floor and tears filling your eyes as miles pulled your hair back even harder careful not to harm your Queue. You’d bite your lip at 2 more slaps tears finally beginning to fall down the sides of your cheeks.

“Who do you belong to?” Miles voice would boom from above you. Another slap would echo through to forest. You stayed quiet as you grit your teeth. “Answer. Me.” Miles would give you a spank for each word he spoke.

“Yours, I’m yours.” You’d cry the pain and pleasure starting to become too much. “I’m yours.. I’m Miles.” You’d say again like a chant.

This had heat flowing to miles member his pants getting tighter and tighter by the second. Another growl would leave his throat as he pulled your back to him gripping your chin and turning your head in a harsh angle.

“Yeah that’s right, your Daddy’s girl. Your daddy’s girl alright. Your my princess and I’m. your. fucking. King.” Miles words would have the heat between your legs starting to become painful, as you clenched around nothing. “You’re fucking mine, NOT Tsu’tey’s”

“Please..” you’d bed as miles pushed you back to the floor. Miles ears would perk up at your words.

“Please what?” Miles would tease

“Please, tsaheylu…Make the bond- please.” You’d beg from below miles “I need you miles. I need you.” Your words were quiet.

Miles would stay quiet for a moment. Gently he’d grab your Queue along with his and bring the two tips together. You’d take a deep breath just as the bond was made. A moan would leave your throat, you could feel him, all of him, his emotions, his breath, his heartbeat, his passion, his excitement, his strength, all of it. All of it. Again you saw him. You loved him. Miles would place his hand on your back to steady himself his mouth agape and ears back as he closed his eyes the new and exotic feeling pleasuring him. A ‘fuck’ would leave his throat. He’d never felt anything like this before. But he was addicted. He was addicted because all he felt was you. All he wanted was you. Quickly miles would grab you and flip you onto your back. The only sound other then each others breath in sync was the clank of his belt on the floor and the rustling of him getting out of his pants in a hurry.

Miles strong hands would throw your legs over his shoulders the action bring you back to reality and opening your eyes. ‘He’s so tall’ you thought to yourself has he towered over you one of his hands would go to rest by your head on the floor the other would hold his blue member and lead it to your entrance. Slowly he’d drag his blue tip up and down your folds the feeling had your eyes rolling back as one of your hands shot to grab onto his bicep. Again miles eyes would meet yours asking for permission and you’d nod. The kind gesture had your heart folding. with a deep breath miles would slowly push his tip in. A burning pain shooting through your stomach your grip on his bicep Turing to iron. You hadn’t looked at his member before but god you should have because he felt huge. Bug. He felt too big. And as if miles red you mind he’d speak.

“Oh don’t worry princess I’m gonna make it fit. It’s gonna hurt tho, you are a sweet little virgin after all.” The thought had miles pushing himself in faster, rougher, and a little too deeper than he should’ve because he felt the pain, your pain. It shot from his queue to his whole body. And it had him shaking. You’d whine the grip on his bicep getting even tighter.

~~~~~~~~~(Miles POV)~~~~~~~~

‘You were so tight’, that was miles only thought. Until he opened his eyes and saw your face. Then it was ‘god she’s so fucking beautiful’ your brows were furrowed and your lips were pressed into a hard line. And miles felt pitty. He’d bring his hand to your cheek and caress the soft flesh. ‘She was so soft’ slowly miles would watch your eyes open and meet with his. And god he always saw stars when you looked at him like that.

“That’s it princess, you’re doin so good for daddy.” My words weren’t forced, they were so natural with her, but then my ears would perk up as she clenched around me at my words. ‘Oooh ho ho, my baby likes that.’ Was all I could think as I slowly inched into her a grin crossing my face as i stared into her beautiful eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~(End of Miles POV)~~~~~~~~~~

Miles words had you clenching around him as he sunk deeper and deeper into you. The bond made you feel his pleasure and god was it strong. Strong enough to cover up your pain. The pain of your velvety walls stretching more than they ever had. The pain of getting deflowered. His hand on your cheek comforted you as you looked into his eyes. ‘Beautiful eyes.’ Eyes full of passion, love and want. Still miles would inch into you slowly and painfully. It had you bringing a hand to your face to cover up the wince you made. Miles would tsk. He didn’t like that. With a tilt of his head he’d speak.

“Oh no princess, remove that hand. I want to see your pretty little face don’t be shy.” Miles would speak his teeth gritting at how much you were squeezing him.

After what felt like forever for the both of you he’d finally bottom out with a harsh thrust a groan leaving his throat. Miles would lift his hand from the ground to cup your other cheek as he waited for you to adjust. He’d lean down to rest his forehead onto yours while he waited giving your nose a soft peck.

“Go.”

Was all you had to say for miles to drag his member almost completely out of you only to go balls deep in one harsh and quick thrust. The feeling had the air getting knocked out or your lungs and your core clenching and gripping onto miles member as your ears fell back in pleasure. Over and over miles would do the same thing his tail whipping in the air as your ears fell back in ecstasy. Miles would growl and lift himself up placing a hand onto your chest to steady himself. His thrusts were relentless. And god he felt so good. The pleasure he was experiencing was doubled because of the bond. And it had his head would fall back as a groan left his throat.

“Fuck you feel so good princess. This feels so good. Ain’t ever felt anything like it. You’re doing so well, taking your daddy’s cock so well.” Miles words would take a moan from your throat as you grabbed the hand that was rested on your chest.

‘He was hitting so deep’ you thought to yourself, ‘so, so, so, deep.’ He felt so good inside you, like he fit you perfectly, like he was made for you. Like you were made for each other. You were made for each other. The pleasure you were feeling was addicting, not only casue it was yours but casue it was his too. ‘You’d bonded. You’re bonded. You were now his and he was now yours.’ The thought had you moaning miles name out loud and clench around him. Miles stared at you his pace never faltering and thrusts only getting stronger. Then miles hit that spot, that gummy pleasure crazy inducing spot inside of you. And it had you moan his name again. And he knew, he knew by the noise you made, face you made and the way you clenched around him. And he took this opportunity to heart.

“Is that the spot? Yeah? That’s the spot that’s gonna have you screaming my name huh princess?” Miles would coo as he slowed his pace his thrusts still as strong the long and slow drag of his cock against your G-spot had you seeing starts.

Your coil was tightening, and Miles could feel it by the way you spasmed around his cock keeping his slow pace. He’d look down to where the two of you met at the sight had him wanting to chase his own release. Your cream on his cock made him feral. Your blood on his cock made him fearl, knowing he was the man to claim you and mark you as his made him turn into a monster. And speed his thrusts.

“Yeah you’re fucking mine princess, you’re mine. And anytime another man looks at you he’s gonna know it, he’s gonna smell it, oh he’s gonna fucking smell it. And he’s gonna know I’m the one that fucking took your virginity, You’re ruined princess, no man will ever make you feel this fucking good. No man…” miles hand would go to your throat as he picked up a brutal pace and positioned in and out of you. His hand would go to rub your clit roughly the feeling causing your eyes to roll back and walls to clench and spasm . “..So I’m gonna ask you again, I’m gonna ask you one. More. time….” Miles hips would meet your at each word “… who owns you.?”

A moan would leave your throat as the coil inside you tightened and threatened to snap. You’d grab the wrist of the hand miles that was torturing your clit and moan his name.

“You do…you own me.” You’d cry out at the burning pleasure building up inside of you.

“Say it. Say my name while you cum.” Miles would demand as he rocked into your velvety walls.

And like a slave you’d yell his name the cord snapping inside of you causing white to cloud your visions and your body to go numb. Your orgasm hitting you like a wave and crashing down to bring you pure ecstasy. Your cunt would squeeze miles cock like a snake would it’s pray and spasm around him. Miles would fuck you through your high as he pulled your legs from his shoulder and placed them by his waist. Quickly you’d wrap your legs around him trapping him in. Keeping him close. Miles would fall down onto you and cup the side of your had with both hands as he pulled your face to his in a passionate kiss. Your high dying down as miles chased his own high animalistic growl and beautiful groans leaving his throat as his thrusts got sloppier and less rhythmic. A ‘fuck’ would leave miles throat as he quickly pulled out of you leaving you feeling empty as his cum shot onto your belly as he moaned your nam his release finally hitting. He sounds so beautiful.’ Both of you would moan. The feelings both of you were feeling through your Queue’s becoming too much.

Miles would grab you his queue and gently pull it from yours giving yours a light kiss before setting it into your hands. A whine would leave you and Miles lips at the loss of the bond. ‘I want to feel him.’ You’d cry internally from the loss as you pushed yourself up with your forearms a painful ache starting to form Between your legs along with the one on your rear end. A hiss of pain would leave your throat as you shifted your weight trying to find a less painful option. You eyes would meet miles and you’d smile.

“Oel ngati kameie.” Miles eyes would light up

“Oel ngati kameie princess..”

Agin Miles would smile to himself as he watched you before shifting his body around yours only to pull your back to his chest and pet your head in a comforting manner. A sigh of relief would leave the both of you, the safety and comfort you felt from each other going unmatched to anything either of you had experienced. ‘He’s my home.’ Your 4 fingered hands would go to find his 5 fingered ones resting on your belly. Once found you’d interlock your fingers with his and smile.

“You did so good for me princess.” Miles would say his voice warmer and softer than ever. The vibrations from his chest to your back would put you at ease as his hand pet your head and he planted soft kisses to your hair.

You’d smile at his words the ache between your legs giving you a strange feeling of comfort and pride. ‘He’s mine, the monster is mine…’ your grip on his fingers would tighten as your tail wrapped around his ankle. The post sex tiredness would slowly set in your breaths getting slower and slower, quieter and quieter as you began to doze off. But you had one last thing to say before you let your tiredness get the best of you.

“We’re mated for life.. I’m with you now miles.”

———————————————————————

As you woke up your hands would shoot up going to rub your tired eyes. As your hands left your eyes you’d expected to be met with the bright sun, only you weren’t. It was still dark out. The forest illuminated by the plants and iridescence of the ferns. Then a giant sigh next to your ear would catch you off gaurd and cause your head to jump around to see the body behind you. ‘Miles.. my miles.’ You’d smile at the sight of him. You’d never seen him sleep before. ‘He looked so cute.’ You thought to yourself as you brang your your hand to his cheek. ‘So much more peaceful than usual.’ Youd giggle at the thought. But then something snapped in the forest.

Quickly your head would snap around and your ears would fall back a hiss leaving your throat. Only to find You were met with a viperwolf. Your head would turn. ‘They’re never alone.’ You thought as you stared into the eyes of the small dog. Then Something inside you told you to follow the small dog, and the look in its eyes said the same thing. You’d look back to miles. He was sound asleep. He wasn’t going to be up for hours. ‘I’ll be back to wake him.’ You thought as you leant down to kiss his cheek. Then you’d look back to the wolf. Slowly and quietly you’d remove the strong blue arm from around your waist and set it onto the floor. You’d wince and grab your crotch the pain from getting defloured finally set in. You were sore. So very sore. And your arse that felt 10x worse. You’d take A deep and determined breath and look back at miles one last time. Then back you’d look to the viper wolf. ‘Ewya is calling’

“Lead the way.”

———————————————————————

After what had felt like a long couple miles you’d finally realize where the viper wolf was taking you.

“Mother tree? The tree of souls?” You’d ask as you looked back down at the small black creature. It would stop in its tracks look back at you and nod.

You’d keep quiet after that. ‘What does Ewya have to show me?’ Your heart would begin to race at the thought. Fear and panic crashing into you like a chooper crashing on the forest floor. Once you’d finally reached the tree your legs would shake. You’d look back down at the viper wolf.

“Thank you.”

With that the viper wolf would hiss and walk off leaving you to Mother tree. ‘Oh great mother what do you have for me..’ your heart would race with each step you took getting closer and closer to your beloved and sacred tree. It’s glow more beautiful and powerful than anything on pandora. ‘Not as beautiful as Miles eyes’ the trek had taken longer than you expected and the morning sun was starting to rise. Finally you had reached the grand tree you’d take a shaky breath and grab a couple of (vines?) closing your eyes as you grabbed your queue and brang the two together to make the bond.

Your ears would fall back. Screams, you heard scream and cries. You saw fire. Lots and lots of fire. There was gun shots and then there was the sound of an animal being shot. A screech of pain. Then the words ‘toruk makto’ and ‘where is he’ fallowed by cries. Cried of pain, loss and sadness. But it wasn’t just any voice. It was miles voice. Images of him and crying children would blur past your eyes. Blood. Water. And pain, you feel pain and fear. The pain and fear of the ones miles had hurt. Then the vision would end and you’d pull back hastily breaking the bond almost tripping as you took frantic steps backwards. Your hand would go to cover your mouth as a pained noise left your throat as you pieces the puzzle together. ‘He was looking for Jake… and hurting people in his way.’ Your ears would fall back as you fell to your knees and hugged your stomach. ‘He didn’t… he couldn’t..’

“I thought this madness was over great mother!” You’d cry out as tears poured down your cheek. “I thought I’d tamed the beast.” ‘That was such a stupid thought’ you’d continue to cry your fist pounding into the floor.

A screech would be heard from above you, it was Pepe’s screech. The wind from his mighty wings would blow onto your back as he landed next to you. Another small screech would leave your purple ikrans throat as he lowered his head and nudged it against your back in a comforting manner. Another pained noise would leave your throat as you grabbed onto your stomach for comfort.

“(Y/N) (Y/N) WHERE ARE YOU??” An unwanted and familiar voice that you loved would call from a close distance.

Miles voice would have your head shooting up to see the tall blue alien, ‘my mate.’ Running towards you. Quickly you’d stand and throw your hand in the said in a ‘stop’ position tears still falling down your cheeks.

“STOP, do not come any closer!” You’d yell your teeth baring as tears covered your cheeks. “Ewya has show me..” a sob would break your sentence in half as you brought a free hand to cover your mouth.

Miles would halt and put his hands up in a defensive manner.

“N-now just wait a minute princess, I’m confused her-“

You’d hush miles by signing for him to shut up with your hands.

“No, NO! I TRUSTED you! I trusted YOU!” your voice would crack as you brought your queue’s to Pepe’s a hiss leaving his throat at the bond. And and feeling of your pain and sadness “I trusted you..” another pained sound would leave your throat as you jumped onto Pepe’s back.

Your action had miles darting towards you. A look of panic crossing his face his eyes going glossy. His skin immediately turning pale as his ears fell back. He’d reach for you as he ran towards you and pepe. You’d lift your hand causing pepe to lift himself off the floor.

“(Y/N) WAIT! Don’t go! Don’t go! Please don’t go!” Miles would scream as sprinted towards you. His voice strained, he sounded confused, heartbroken and if he was about to cry. Miles would trip and slide against the floor a hiss leaving his throat. His head quickly shooting up to meet your eyes. Both of your eyes filled with sadness and pain. And fear. The fear of losing each other.

Tears would fill your eyes again. You did not what to say the words you were about to say. But you had to. You had to. Because if he did love you, they’d change him. They had to. With another pained sob you’d grab you chest as if your heart had just been stabbed.

“You.. are a monster Miles Quaritch.”

————————————————————-///

Authors note: *gasp* oh my gosh. 😱

P.s. as always comments are appreciated <3 this chapter made me cry. ALSO! IF YOU ASKED TO BE TAGGED BUT DIDN’T GET TAGGED ITS CAUSE THE TAG DIDN’T WORK!

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

@kimqueenofhell @strawberrytodes @esposadomd @kitty-cat-luver @spookyspecterino @vane28282 @fayenijimura @gayfagdownthestreet @anbanananna @pinkpotatoqueen @witxhy-lexx @perseny @seashelldom @blueberry-thrawn @kadu-5607 @4shbug

[goldensunfyre]

Na'vi language

Summary: You were the new "acquisition" of the Omaticaya clan, the tribe had found you lost in the forest (you had been separated from your group on a mission to save your life) and they decided to take you with them since they did not want to take any risks: you were human and they had to decide what to do to see if you were intended to be a threat or not. Now, you had been with the clan for a while and the Sully children were doing their best to help you learn more about their culture and even more, their language. But, not everything went the best way for two of them.

Word Count: 1591

Warning: All of them have the same age

Pairings: sully children x female!reader

A/N: Sorry if there is more than one mistake, English isn’t my first language and I am still learning it. It’s my first time writing an Avatar fanfic! However, I hope you enjoy it and have a good time, thanks for reading! (:

Neteyam

You two had established a good relationship since he discovered that you were not a threat, from that moment Neteyam wanted to get closer and help you understand those lands, their traditions and the history of the people, because he could see in your eyes that you were a beginner in everything related to that world of which you knew nothing; he was more than happy to give you a hand and help you in whatever was possible. At the beginning, Neteyam and you communicated through gestures, signs and short words in English that his father and brothers had taught him, but, like you, he still needed practice to be able to dominate a whole sentence in English. Neteyam had become one of your best friends in the clan, so when he found out that you were to be given lessons of Na'vi he was very excited because he knew how fast you were learning and you were going to be able to communicate in a "more natural way" soon, no more English words and phrases that he battled with constantly and struggled to understand. He was very excited to teach you.

"Look, here's the deal: I'll teach you our language and if you say one correct word after another, you'll teach me that complicated and difficult language of yours, is that okay? It'll be an easier way for us to communicate! Tsun oe ngahu niNa'vi pivängkxo a fi'u oeru plite' lu!"

Lo’ak

Even when he knew you were not a threat to the clan, Lo'ak took much more time to trust and start a conversation with you because you were a human and he didn't know which side you were on, he barely knew you. The stories his parents had told him all his life about the RDA made him grow up with a feeling of constant alertness to any foreign movement, especially danger. He had learned to be distant and cold to those who were not part of his people or race, just as he was doing with you. However, as time went by, you showed him that you were friendly and had spent enough time in those lands to fall in love with every aspect and detail of Pandora, constantly trying to make him understand that not all humans were the same. Little by little, Lo'ak stopped being so defensive and began to approach you slowly, with "baby steps" (as his father would say) and the same way he got closer, it didn't take him long to fall in love with you almost instantly; a feeling that scared him at first and he tried to hide it as best he could, although, when he found out that you were to be taught to speak his language, he saw an opportunity to spend more time together even with his siblings around. He simply found it hard to take his eyes off you and even harder to accept that he was in love with a human. "You're doing great, y/n. Much better than us! Now, can you say tawtute?" he kept laughing with your pronunciation and the way you quickly managed to get frustrated, he found you really adorable.

Spider

Like Loak, Spider was hesitant to make friends with you and show you his ways because, like the others, he also thought that you were part of the RDA and that this was just part of a plan. However, time proved him wrong and besides becoming friends, Spider's heart developed something much deeper. At the arrival of these new feelings, he felt insecure and somewhat nervous, but, he thought that at least, he had a better chance than Lo'ak since the guy didn't have the least idea of how to dissimulate and didn't think he knew the meaning of the word either. When he was assigned the task of teaching you new words, Spider stayed leaning against a tree with his arms crossed watching how the others did all the work, not because he didn't want to teach you himself but because he knew that the others had more experience and knew what they were doing. Anyway, he would say phrases that always managed to make you laugh: "You said it wrong, Lo'ak! y/n, he's teaching you wrong. Don't listen to him, please!" "I'm sorry I can't teach you myself, y/n. My pronunciation is a hell of a lot better than Lo'ak's but my accent is awful." Those kind of comments always generated a friendly fight between the two brothers and some branch used to hit the head of the Na'vi.

Kiri

Unlike the two skxawng, Kiri was much more similar to Neteyam in many aspects; she was a very kind girl even when she was warned of your arrival, she was one of the first to defend you over the others by saying that she did not see you as a bad person. She was also very curious, so she went to meet you behind Jake and Neytiri's back to find out where you came from, who you were and what you were looking for in those lands. It didn't take long for the two of you to form a strong bond. But, at that moment, Kiri was worried because neither Lo'ak or Spider were teaching you useful words with which you could learn to communicate. All they were doing was laughing and being silly in front of you; on one hand, Spider wanted to teach you jokes and funny words so that you would "make good friends" while on the other hand, Lo'ak was determined to teach you how to say phrases like: "I love you", "Do you want to be my boyfriend?", "You are a cute boy" and some swear words; they were not teaching you anything at all. For this very reason and refusing to do nothing but watch, Kiri went looking for Jake.

"What's wrong, kiddo? is everything all okay?"

"They're not teaching her anything they should! Spider and Lo'ak are messing around and y/n is playing along with their joke simply because she doesn't understand what they're saying! She' s trying so hard to learn, but they're not helping!"

———————————————————————————

Hearing her words, Jake covered his face with his hands and let out a sigh, frustrated. He knew it wasn't a good idea to put two rowdy teenagers next to y/n, the way he saw it, they looked like two monkeys trying to get attention and it was a trait that always stood out to them.

"They're flirting with her, aren't they? little bastards!"

"Spider yes but Lo'ak... he's not doing very well, he doesn't know how to dissimulate, he's terrible, daddy." answered the youngest of the family, Tuktirey, who at saying those words frowned and played with a plant, not entirely sure of the meaning of her words.

Jake was guided by his two daughters to the place and observed the two young boys with a very negative look on his face. Then, he shouted something to them in his native language so that y/n would understand perfectly and, he hoped that it would have an effect on one of them:

"Hey, both of you! Stop acting like lovesick monkeys and do what I told you! You'll have the rest of the day to teach her romantic lines and anything you want. Damn it!"

And to his good luck, they did. Both, Lo'ak and Spider turned red as a tomato and shrugged their shoulders in embarrassment, unable to look at y/n or say a word. Neteyam let out a big laugh when he saw the expression of both and then thanked his father with a nod of his head, very different from Spider and Lo'ak, who didn't know whether to murder their father or their brother first.

Kiri and her little sister returned with the others, now ready to teach y/n the right way. However, the girl didn't want to return to her lessons without giving the two of them their revenge.

"So.... lovesick monkeys?"

The laughter that followed from the three girls and Neteyam was an embarrassing blow to the naughty ones, although deep down, perhaps, they deserved it. That would be a good story to tell later, but now they had to get on with their lessons, including Spider and Lo'ak who had already had their little secret found out.

"Can you say "Jake skxawng?" were the last words Lo'ak addressed to y/n with a fake smile before remaining silent for the rest of the lesson.

—lightsofpandora

[goldensunfyre]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write headcanons for Lo'ak dating a female human?

Dating Lo'ak as a Human

Lo'ak x Fem!Sky Person | Word Count: 340 Words

The reader is the same age as Lo’ak.

Lo’ak would always try his best to impress you, whether that be hanging from the branches by just his tail or landing a perfect bullseye, he thrived off the praise you so willingly gave him.

He would pick you up and carry you on his back just to show off how strong he was, you would laugh as Lo’ak would sprint along the forest floor, jumping over roots and bioluminescent flora and fauna.

Lo’ak would take you to his secret spots to enjoy the sunset as he would braid your hair while adding beads to match his own, like a subtle way to say you were taken.

Some nights he would lay awake and watch you sleep and marvelling at your features that are so foreign to his own kind, gently caressing your features and feeling the peach fuzz against his fingertips, a smile overtaking his features as you lean into his touch.

Wrapping his tail around your legs as you sleep while curling around you, shielding you from the bitter winds of the night.

Him caging you in his arms and nuzzling into your hair when you are trying to wake up to start the day as he just wants to enjoy the warmth of your body heat for a little while longer.

He would take you on flights with his Ikran, due to you not possessing a queue and doing flips and dives just you feel you hug him closer to your form.

Lo’ak loves to hear you sing your ‘sky people songs’ and he ends up humming them while you're apart.

Lo’ak teaching you Na’vi and you teaching him English <3

Lo’ak would get jealous if Spider or Neteyam would talk to you, he would walk up behind you and place a hand on the crest of your head while giving a tight-lipped smile to his brothers.

Secretly holding hands when Neytiri and Jake aren’t looking and quickly turning away from each other when Jake sneaks up behind the both of you and ruffles your hair laughing.

[goldensunfyre]

to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

pairings: aemond x fem! Targaryen! reader / original female character

word count: 15,053

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: TARGCEST, age gap, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth, swearing (aemond has a potty mouth)

additional notes: we interrupt your regular genshin x reader viewing by bringing you this (big) little thing I wrote for aemond targaryen. he had me in a chokehold until I finally relented and. this is it.

expect a couple more works on this pathetic little meow meow and an eventual update to an ode to heartbreak!

read this work on ao3

“I don’t understand,” Aemond says in disbelief, pushing his helmet’s visor out of his face as he attempts to decipher the contents of the note. “How could I have not been informed of this earlier?”

Ormund shrugs. “Perhaps the tourney masters thought it best to rearrange the lists. More signed up for the games than they thought.”

“Their poor planning does not justify an inconvenience on my part,” Aemond scoffs. “I am a Prince of the realm. I should be placed higher up on the lists.”

“Never mind that, cousin,” Ormund attempts to console him. “It is your first tourney, after all—”

“—and yet it is one we all look forward to seeing.”

The two look up to see Aegon sauntering into the hall, grinning from ear to ear as if he’d just been privy to a particularly humorous joke. Aemond rolls his eyes as he shoves the note into Ormund’s hand.

“Why so tense, dear brother?” Aegon nudges Aemond playfully. “I only speak the truth. You’ve never really thought much of tourneys.”

“Some of us like to keep most of our thoughts to ourselves,” Aemond shoots back, as he fiddles with his armor. “Where’s Helaena?”

“Back in the castle.” Aegon jabs his finger behind him. “All the shouting was getting to her, so Mother had me escort her back.”

At Aegon’s words, Ormund’s expression lit up in realization. “Perhaps it was the Queen behind it!”

“Shut up!” Aemond hisses, at the same time Aegon asks, “Behind what?”

“Er…” Ormund scratches his head, lowering his gaze in response to Aemond’s murderous one. “Behind, er, the Princess’ nameday tourney.”

Aegon scoffs. “My mother can hardly be credited for my sister’s nameday tourney. We all celebrate our namedays for days at a time, with tourneys and feasts galore.”

He glances around, taking in the sight of the contestants and squires milling about the area. “Though our sister’s nameday tourney has, indeed, piqued the interest of all. How strange.”

“Hardly,” Aemond mumbles. “She comes of age today.”

“Ah!” Aegon claps his hands. “Our beloved sister comes of age today, yes. I wonder just what the prize is for this tourney.”

“Surely, His Grace would not decide who Princess [Y/N] marries based on who wins today’s tourney?” Ormund says, blissfully unaware of Aemond slightly wincing at his words.

Aegon frowns. “Have you never picked up a history book, cousin?”

“Have you?” Aemond retorts.

“Of course I did. I never said I read them, though.” Aegon sniffs. “It’s not usual, but it’s certainly not new. Tourneys are simply pageants in all but name. See for yourself.”

The trio turn to see a tall, sweeping teenager, with locks the color of night and skin like copper parading about the hall, his bronze armor chased with red, a spear piercing the sun on its front.

“Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers, a sense of dread washing over him.

Aegon hums. “Came in right at the last second, as they were drawing up the lists.”

Ormund turns to Aemond, holding up the note he had been reading earlier, an expression of understanding dawning on his face. Aemond fidgets beneath his armor, hating that Aegon had a point for once; there really wasn’t any other plausible explanation for Dorne to finally start taking an interest in the Crown’s affairs.

Aegon looks over at him, seemingly contemplating his next line. He decides instead to clap Aemond’s back, sending him forward. “Oh, don’t worry, brother! The Dornish don’t mind sharing their lovers. They seem to enjoy it, in fact.”

Aemond turns and walks briskly away from his brother, Ormund hastily trailing beside him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course, Aegon had to press further, keeping up with Aemond’s pace in a couple of long strides. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says. “If there’s anything the Dornish get right, it’s their outlook on bastards. I’m sure Prince Qoren wouldn’t mind if [Y/N]’s children turn out to have silver hair and a remarkable resemblance to a certain other Prince—”

Aemond stops abruptly to stare Aegon directly in the eye. “[Y/N] is not you. You would let our sister disgrace herself and put the stability of the realm at risk?”

Aegon towers over him, smirking triumphantly. “You and I both know that’s not any of your concern.”

“Then you do not know me.” Aemond turns away again, walking towards the edge of the hall where the tourney field was being set up. Hordes of people continued filing into the stands, some of whom were dressed to the nines despite the sun beating down upon them like a drum. He glances at the King’s Box, watching as the newest arrivals, the Velaryons, occupy their seats next to Rhaenyra and her children.

A mix of gasps and cheers sound from the smallfolk as a shadow passes over them, coupled with a familiar-sounding roar. Aemond squints up at the sky, and his heart practically leaps at the sight.

The voice of the Master of Revels announcing your arrival is all but drowned out by Silverwing’s proud roar, as you land her atop the King’s Box, jostling the people inside. Rhaenyra grabs the end of Lucerys’ coat to keep him from falling off trying to look up at you, while Lyonel Strong steadies a visibly surprised Viserys. Aegon lets out a hearty laugh at the sight, and Aemond could not help but join in.

It’s only when the she-dragon lowers her neck does Aemond finally get a better look at you. You’re grinning from ear to ear, and the only thing that could compete with the brightness of your smile was the glint of your silvery hair in the sun. Your dragon climbs down the Box, much to your family’s chagrin as they grip the arms of their chairs to stay steady.

Silverwing dips herself to the ground of the tourney field, allowing you to dismount and pat her neck before you wave to the crowds. You don a black dress chased with blue (which Aemond presumes is for your late lady mother, who was an Arryn), with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered on your front.

“A fly might make its way down your throat if you don’t close it,” Ormund murmurs in Aemond’s ear, and he only sniggers as Aemond elbows him in the stomach. When your eyes meet his, he prays his ears aren’t as red as he thinks they are.

“Seven blessings on your nameday, dear sister,” Aegon says, pairing the mock reverence in his tone with an exaggerated bow.

You only snort as you remove your riding gloves. “Save your courtesies for someone who actually believes them.”

“Now, is that any behavior befitting a lady who has just come of age?”

You deliver a playful punch to Aegon’s midsection, which he just barely dodges.

Ormund bows. “I wish you a happy nameday, Princess.”

Aemond fidgets nervously, silently cursing both Aegon and Ormund for getting to greet you first.

You smile warmly. “Thank you, Ormund.” When you turn to look at Aemond, you reach out to push his visor out of his face. “Finally joining the lists today, eh, Aemond? I never thought you were interested in jousting.”

Aemond opens his mouth, but no sound leaves it. Behind you, Aegon raises his eyebrows, giving him a look that says, Say something!

“I…decided to test my skills today,” Aemond manages.

Aegon silently gestures for him to keep going.

“…and I thought your nameday would give me extra luck,” he adds, now feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

You laugh, reaching over once again to pat the front of his armor. He wonders if you can feel his heart hammering underneath the cold metal.

Aegon clears his throat, glancing at something behind Aemond; in his periphery, he sees Qoren Martell hovering around the group. Ormund, miraculously, gets the silent message.

“If you would excuse us, Princess,” the Hightower lord says, slapping the back of Aemond’s armor. “As his loyal squire, I have a duty to get Prince Aemond ready.”

You nod in understanding. “I will pray for your opponents,” you say solemnly, and a genuine smile finally breaks out onto his face.

“Will you allow me to escort you back to the King’s Box?” Aegon says in his mocking tone once again, and you wrinkle your nose before dropping your hand into his.

Ormund pushes Aemond in the other direction. “Come now, my Prince,” he says. “You’d better get ready if you want to win the Princess’ favor.”

“I’ve been put in the lower lists,” Aemond reminds him miserably, while keeping his eyes trained on Qoren Martell attempting to strike up a conversation with you.

“What of it?” Ormund scoffs, suddenly sounding confident. “It just means you’ll score more victories. Makes the final one all the more sweet. Just trust your training, and you’ll have Qoren Martell on his fat Dornish ass before you know it.”

It seemingly only takes a split second for all the air to leave Aemond’s lungs when he crashes into the dirt. Though his armor had taken the brunt of his fall, pain shoots all over his body like tendrils of lightning, ironically leaving him feeling momentarily weightless.

He manages to roll onto his back, gasping for air and staring up at the sky above. The ringing in his ears subsides enough for him to hear the triumphant shouts and the shocked gasps of the crowd, as well as the neighing of his distressed horse. He blinks the stars out of his eyes, and after remembering seeing a Bolton squire die from a lance to the throat, he checks himself for any injuries. To his relief, he seemed to be physically fine.

“My Prince! Aemond, cousin!” Suddenly, Ormund was hovering over him, distress and clear fear in his eyes. “Speak to me, are you alright?”

“I’m…” Aemond coughs, feeling his lungs constrict, then relax. “I’m fine.”

A tourney master joins Ormund. “Will you continue with a contest of arms, my Prince?”

Ormund helps Aemond sit up, and he catches a glimpse of his sword lying off to the side. He blinks again, and his vision finally returns to normal; he sees his opponent (who, by the stag on his armor, Aemond surmises is a Baratheon) jumping off his horse and running over to him.

You fool, Aemond wants to shout. If your opponent wished to continue, you might have benefited from the distance.

But he glances over to the King’s Box, where members of his own family were peering over at him, awaiting his decision. His mother leans over the railing the furthest, so much so that her ladies were trying to restrain her.

He does not see you.

Aemond sighs and shakes his head, and the tourney master nods.

“Prince Aemond forfeits! The winner of this round…”

“My Prince!” The Baratheon boy tosses his helmet to the side, sticking his hand out. Aemond clicks his tongue, but accepts the gesture, allowing his opponent to pull him up. “It was an honor to tilt against you, Prince Aemond. I hope to be given the opportunity again.”

Not likely, Aemond wants to snap back. But he only gives the boy a brief smile and a respectful nod, before turning away.

“Do you need help?” Ormund offers.

“No, be quiet, keep walking,” Aemond commands, keeping his head held high. He nods and waves to the crowds shouting out their congratulations to him, deliberately ignoring the pain he was starting to feel in his left leg.

As soon as he was out of both the public and his opponents’ sight, Aemond finally gives in, grabbing the wall for support as he reaches down to tug at his armored leg.

“Aemond!” Ormund throws one of Aemond’s arm over his shoulders. “Sit down, I’ll call the maesters.”

“No, no need,” he hisses in reply. “Just help me get my armor off.”

“But you might have twisted or broken your leg, I—”

“If I had twisted or broken my leg, you’d think I’d bloody well know, wouldn’t I?” Aemond snaps. “You’re my squire, act like it. Just take off the damn armor.”

Ormund blinks. Aemond feels a twinge of regret over the venom in his tone, but elects not to say another word. He instead works on the buckles of the metal, all the while trying to swallow down the growing lump in his throat and blink away the stinging in his eyes. Ormund finally assists him, detaching the parts away and allowing Aemond to stretch his limbs out.

The humiliation weighs over him even as he climbs into the King’s Box. Ser Criston Cole is the first to greet him, and after looking over him to find no serious injuries, pats Aemond’s shoulders. “You did very well, my Prince,” Criston assures him. “Don’t lose heart. You’ll get your chance one day.”

Aemond offers him the same tight-lipped smile he’d given his opponent, and keeps it on as his mother hurries over, worry painted all over her face.

“Are you alright?” she fusses, pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking as if she was about to demand he remove all his clothes in front of all who were present. “The lance—I thought it went through—”

“His armor took the blow, Your Grace,” Ser Criston says. “The Baratheon squire’s lance splintered against it, yes, but there’s no harm to him as far as I can see.”

A Baratheon squire. Aemond’s jaw locks in anger; he, a Prince of the realm, had lost to a Baratheon squire of all people.

Alicent sighs. “You scared me, deciding to enter the lists out of nowhere. Perhaps you should wait until you’re a little older before—”

“Why did you place me further down the lists?” Aemond hisses, keeping his voice as low as possible (but failing to contain the anger in it).

Alicent frowns. “What?”

“I was supposed to tilt against the likes of Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers furiously. “I am the son of the King, in line to the throne, brother to the Princess to whom this tourney is dedicated to! Why wasn’t I placed where I was originally supposed to be?”

“I am not liking your tone, Aemond,” Alicent warns. “Remember that you are not of age yet. This is a vile, cruel game where men attempt to kill each other for sport. Be grateful that you were even allowed at all to compete.”

Aemond opens his mouth to protest, but Alicent gives him a look so scathing, whatever argument he had promptly died in his throat. He grunts in displeasure and pushes past her, ignoring his father's Council members congratulating him as he goes.

He finds his seat regrettably next to Aegon, who at the sight of him, bursts into uncontrollable laughter. Aemond surges forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra's outstretched arm.

"You did well, little brother," she says, though all Aemond hears is the underlying distaste that she seems to reserve solely for him, Aegon, and Alicent. "But settle your scores with Aegon later. I'd rather not ruin my sister's day with any of your antics."

Aemond removes her arm from his path, sauntering forward and dropping into his seat, taking care to crush Aegon's foot underneath his. A heavy hand finds its way onto his shoulder, and he turns to find its owner, a scowl on his face ready to greet them—

"Well done, my boy," Viserys says, a smile on his lined face. "Next time, you'll win. I know it."

One could almost take your words for affection, old man, Aemond thinks, as Viserys pats his shoulder again before settling back in his seat. Still, he manages a polite, "Thank you, Father," before turning back to the tourney still playing out beneath him.

It takes a while for him to realize that you were sitting right across him, already turned to face him with your signature blinding smile. You reach out to pat his interlocked hands. "Father's right," you tell him. "You'll win next time. If you focus on your training."

"I will if you will," he blurts, before he could stop himself.

"Ha! I feel I'm much better at riding a dragon than wielding a sword."

The moment is shattered when Lucerys (who Aemond just realized had been sitting on your lap the entire time) begins to wave your wreath around wildly, causing you to turn away from Aemond to keep your nephew from falling to the ground.

He watches as, to nobody's surprise, Qoren Martell wins the tourney. The Dornish Prince urges his horse forward towards the King's Box, and asks for your favor. Rhaenyra nudges Ser Laenor, the two sharing knowing glances as you stand with Lucerys in your arms and balanced on your hip, instructing the boy to toss your crown of red and black roses into Qoren's hands, much to the delight of the spectators.

In that moment, Lucerys’ curly brown locks no longer suspiciously remind Aemond of the Commander of the City Watch standing right next to Ser Laenor, but of the man staring adoringly from below as you and Lucerys wave to the crowds.

Aemond stands, mumbling an excuse in his brother's ear, and leaves the Box in a hurry.

Having to watch as Viserys deliberately has Qoren sit next to you during your own nameday feast had irritated Aemond beyond measure, given that he could do nothing but pick furiously at his own food as Qoren regales you with tales of his House and region. It had seemed like forever before the King had finally gone to bed, and even then his torture ended bitterly with Qoren bringing your hand to his lips.

Rhoynar scum. He scowls as he slams the door behind him. Your lot come from vagabonds at sea with no real homes. Our blood is the blood of Old Valyria, the blood of kings and conquerors and warriors. She rides the Good Queen’s dragon. What in the Seven Hells could ever possess you to think you could have her?

Aemond opens the window to his room, allowing the cool breeze of the Red Keep to wash over his agitated figure. Aegon’s teasing, Ormund’s obliviousness, and Qoren’s audacity had given him a migraine like he’d never had before, yet he could not find it in himself to sleep it off.

Of course he was fond of you, that much was certain. He’d always looked up to you, asked for your advice, took great comfort in the fact that your dragon had not been born to you either. It had always been his crutch for when he laments his lack of a dragon, what with Sunfyre hatching in Aegon’s cradle and Helaena claiming Dreamfyre shortly before her tenth nameday. Ultimately, though, Aemond supposes he hadn’t much to go on about you other than the fact that you took the time to get to know your half-siblings, unlike your actual full-blood sister.

He’d mulled over the idea of claiming Vermithor, who at this point was the only known dragon that had yet to be claimed after the death of Jaehaerys. He would imagine himself flying alongside the Good Queen’s dragon atop the Good King’s, and what a poetic ending that would be for all his troubles.

A knock comes at his door. “My Prince, I apologize for the late hour,” one of his servants calls out to him. “Princess [Y/N] is here to see you.”

Aemond’s head whips around. “Send her in,” he replies almost immediately.

The door swings open to reveal you, still in the same dress he’d seen you in that morning, the only difference being your hair now let down; a silvery waterfall, not unlike his own.

He turns to face you, heart hammering in his chest.. “What…what do you want?”

“I came to check on you,” you reply. “You fell hard earlier, I didn’t get a chance to check how bad it was.”

Aemond chuckles dryly and gestures for you to sit. “ “How bad it was”, huh?”

“Our family is more than fond of tourneys,” you remind him. “We’re just about the only ones that are not. I would be lying if I said I was not surprised that you changed your mind today.”

“I’ve not changed my mind.” Aemond picks at his sleeve. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Never have and never will.”

You laugh, and though it is a quiet sound, he tries to fool himself into thinking it’s more genuine than the ones you’d shared with Qoren. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He sits there with you in silence, and for the first time all day, he relaxes. It’s nice, he thinks, to simply be in your presence, where no one—not even himself—expects him to do something to impress you.

Being with you was enough.

That said, the thought of you leaving for Dorne forever leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Namedays are always a time for celebration,” you begin. “I confess, however, that my nameday…always comes with a tinge of sorrow.

“I went to the Sept with Rhaenyra this morning. It’s always been a habit of ours on our namedays. It’s really less of us praying to the Seven for good fortune, it’s more of…finding comfort in the silence. It…it’s where we hear our mother and siblings the best.”

He nods in understanding.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, staring off into the distance wistfully. “Father’s always been good at putting on a mask,” you continue. “He’s good at it, too, probably from all the years he’s had to do it. But today would have been Baelon’s nameday, too. And today was also the day when Mother…”

You duck your head.

Aemond leans forward to capture your hands in his. Despite his own misgivings with Aegon, he had to admit that it was difficult to imagine a life without him. He would have been the heir, forever put against Rhaenyra. Forever put against you, one of the few of her true kin.

You squeeze his hands gratefully. “In any case,” you say. “I am glad you’re no longer interested in tourneys, otherwise I would not have brought you this.”

You produce a box from the depths of your skirt and slide it over to Aemond. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “It’s your nameday and you’re the one giving out gifts.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I have a whole mountain of them in my apartments, very few of which I would actually care to have. I take far more pleasure giving things to you.”

Aemond shakes his head, finally relenting and opening the box. Glittering among the plush dark velvet was a sapphire brooch, as blue as the waters of the Narrow Sea, sitting in a bed of pure starlight. He lifts it from the cushion and sits the gem in his palm gingerly, admiring its weight and the way it glints, even by the dying fireplace.

“The sapphire was my mother’s,” you explain. “One of many I’d inherited from her. I had it re-cut and set.”

Aemond swallows thickly. “I…I can’t take this. If it was from your mother, then you should—”

You interrupt him by closing his fist over the jewel, holding his fingers down with a firm grip. “I want you to have it,” you tell him firmly. “We are one House now, no matter what others say. None may divide us. Keep this with you as a reminder, you hear me?”

You stare at him with such intensity that he has little to do but agree. You pat his hand and rise from your seat. “Think of it as my favor,” you say, and he doesn’t miss the slyness in your tone. “You have no need to fight in tourneys or any sort of battle to earn it. It will always be yours, Aemond.”

Words he’d been keeping buried for months were bubbling on his tongue now, tearing down the walls that he’s had to construct all his life to keep them from destroying what he has with you. Resistance seemed futile now, now that you had bid him goodnight and turned to leave his room.

“Don’t marry him.”

Your hand had been on the door at his words, and you do him the considerable honor of pausing in surprise before turning again to look at him. “Aemond?”

“Don’t marry him,” he repeats, desperation now leaking into his tone. “Qoren Martell. You were never meant to marry a Dornish, even the first of them, so…”

He wrestles with his words, and you seem oblivious to his agony as you stare, clearly waiting for him to finish. He inches closer and closer to the brink, and there seems to be nothing tethering him to reality anymore, save for the erratic beating of his heart.

You purse your lips, and the expression on your face is something he can’t read—did you think him foolish for telling you not to do your duty? Or did you perceive his desperation as an act of childish jealousy, a brother imploring his sister not to give anyone else the time of day?

What did he think his words meant?

You do not give him an answer. “Good night, Aemond,” you whisper, and you slip quietly out the door.

Your betrothal to the heir to the Dornish throne had begun to sound less like a rumor and more like a given fact, with the endless whisperings fluttering about the Red Keep like irksome flies. Viserys certainly did not do much to silence them, and Aemond had the misfortune of hearing him discuss potential dowries with Rhaenyra.

He had to admit that it was an ideal match, and certainly one he would have considered seriously were he in his father’s place. Any king who would bring Dorne into the fold would be credited with something even the Conqueror could not have done, further cementing his place in Westerosi history. Aemond often dreams of having his name written down in the history books, never just as an afterthought or a simple second son, but of a warrior king who made the Seven Kingdoms truly one, with a queen by his side who would cast a shadow over all who would succeed her.

But like his position in life, all his dreams had to occur in the darkness of the wings; the only good thing about it was that, given their unlikeliness, he was free to dream just a little bit more.

In a surprising turn of events, however, he’d received the news that you had suddenly mounted Silverwing and taken off. At that moment, Aemond truly curses the lack of a dragon—he could have just gotten on and tracked you down, not go through the humiliation of asking Aegon (or any of his kin, for that matter) for a favor. He would have had to explain why it was so important for them to take time out of their day to find out where you had gone, because beyond you being a Princess of the realm, he had no other reason (that he’s willing to admit, at least).

Even Helaena, whom Aemond had realized could see things before they happened, offered no help in this matter. She had even expressed confusion at the very notion, much to his frustration.

So, he turns to his last resort.

Jacaerys looks up from where he was cleaning his armor, clearly surprised to be addressed. “She isn’t at Dragonstone,” he tells Aemond. “She could be anywhere, for all we know.”

“She didn’t tell you anything?” Aemond presses. “No notes, anything?”

Lucerys fiddles with Aemond’s gauntlets, and for a brief moment, Aemond sees you in his little face. “I think she’s gone to Daemon.”

“Prince Daemon? Why would she…”

“It’s just a guess,” Jacaerys says, scratching the back of his neck. “The last we heard of him was that he was in Pentos with the Lady Laena. They’re our only kin living beyond Westeros, and [Y/N] was always fond of Lady Laena.”

Of course. Aemond wants to smack his forehead. It made sense. You, Rhaenyra, and Laena had always been so close. But it wouldn’t have been his first guess, not when a marriage proposal didn’t seem too far behind…

Jacaerys’ and Lucerys’ guess seems to hold merit, as the small council receives reports of a silvery dragon flying east. It’s only confirmed when you finally write to your family, stating that you were indeed exploring the Free Cities and would be staying there for an indefinite period of time.

Funnily enough, your message had arrived at the Red Keep the same day the Dornish party did.

The excuse given had been that you were sent off as an envoy to the southern Free Cities to ascertain the peace, following the Triarchy’s defeat at the hands of the Daemon-Velaryon alliance. Aemond had to restrain himself from laughing in the throne room at the Dornish lord’s baffled expression, as well as the irritation that Viserys had kept well-hidden beneath his kingly persona.

That same night, he’d received a raven from you, carrying a brief message and a couple of trinkets you had collected on your travels thus far. It had been as if a giant weight had been taken off his shoulders, and in the privacy of his own room, he finds himself running his fingers longingly over your handwriting.

But your letters begin to stack on his desk, the gifts you bring him start to collect dust on his mantle, and every day holds less and less promise of you finally returning to King’s Landing. He’d thought you would finally return shortly after Rhaenyra gives birth to her third son, but aside from a written note of congratulations and a messenger bringing gifts, you never do. Aemond finds himself sitting by his window every night, deluding himself into thinking a bird flying over Blackwater Bay or the occasional cloud would be Silverwing, bringing you back to him.

But you don’t, and he finds solace only in his lessons and his training, stealing glances at the sky whenever he has the chance. He’d thought your absence would finally rid him of thoughts and desires unwanted, but all it is is a thorn in his side; a dull ache that flares up every now and then, much like his old leg injury.

When news of Laena Velaryon’s death reaches King’s Landing, and as he sits next to his mother on the ship, his thoughts were only of you, and if you had already been in Driftmark for a while now. He should have known better when he sees no silver dragon sitting amongst the gold, blue, grey, and red amongst the rocks.

After giving his condolences to the Velaryons, Aemond walks around aimlessly, the disappointment sinking in with every passing second. Politicking thinly veiled as courtesies seem to follow him everywhere he goes, and he eventually finds respite in Helaena’s presence, though it would seem she had not noticed his.

Of course, Aegon had to come and disturb it, only to repeat what he had been complaining about for weeks.

“We have nothing in common,” he grumbles, gesturing to Helaena.

“She’s our sister,” Aemond replies curtly, as he has done many times before.

“You marry her, then.”

“I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” The words weigh heavily on Aemond’s tongue.

Aegon scoffs. “If only.”

“It would strengthen the family,” Aemond parrots what he’s learned in his lessons. “Keep our Valyrian blood pure.”

“She’s an idiot!”

“She’s your future Queen.”

Aegon lowers his goblet, and from his periphery, Aemond can see his brother watching him carefully. He keeps his gaze on Helaena muttering under her breath, waiting for Aegon to call him out for the double meaning in his words.

Fortunately, he doesn’t. “We actually do have one thing in common,” Aegon says, as he throws the rest of his drink back and reaches for the next, his eyes lingering far too long on the serving girl. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.”

Aemond only shakes his head in resignation, feeling a surge of pity for Helaena. It’s the first time he actually feels relieved that you had left before you’d gotten any offers of marriage; he dreads the thought of you being doomed to suffer the same fate as Helaena.

A dragon’s cry pierces the air, and Aemond looks up sharply. He rushes to the edge of the courtyard, listening as best as he could with the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

He scours the skies and searches among the dragons already resting nearby, to no avail. His shoulders sag; perhaps you weren’t coming, after all.

But that same cry persists, even as the sun begins to sink into the sea. Aemond has never heard a sound like it before—this one was a melancholic melody, like longingness taking flight above the waters of The Gullet. It isn’t long before his attention is drawn from searching for you to searching for the source of the sound instead, somehow feeling as if it was calling out to him.

And then it happens.

A clear and piercing trill that he initially chalks up to one of the other dragons, had it not been for Rhaenyra looking up, surprise painted all over her face. Aemond follows her gaze, and even in the setting sun, it’s clear as day—

He momentarily forgets himself and runs over to his half-sister, tugging on her sleeve. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he asks, unable to contain his excitement.

“It is,” Rhaenyra replies, pure relief in her tone. She glances down at Aemond, and it’s perhaps only then does she realize the peculiarity of the situation; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever had a casual conversation with her. Aemond lets go of her sleeve, clearing his throat and taking off in the other direction with his head spinning.

It takes a while for you to show up, but when you do, you’re soaked to the bone, with Laenor Velaryon’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and his other arm around his squire on the other side. The whispers come to a standstill, partially at the sight of you and partially at the sight of the future Prince consort looking as if he was about to follow his sister at any second. You must have found him, Aemond thinks, about to keel over into the water.

At the sight of his father, however, Ser Laenor steadies himself and limps away, leaving you in the middle of the crowd. No doubt you feel all eyes on you, but you straighten and walk to your father, who now looks as if he’s ten years younger again.

Aemond doesn’t get the chance to speak with you, not while you remain glued to Viserys’ side, leaving only to speak with Rhaenyra, Daemon, and his daughters. You’ve not changed at all over the years, save for your hair, which you had cropped short (presumably for it to not get in the way of your flying), and for your gait, as a certain confidence exudes from you as you walk or simply stand. But you were still you, much to his relief.

His thoughts take him back to the strange cry, which rings out well into the night. It’s only until his mother commands him to go to bed that he realizes Viserys has long left and you are nowhere to be found. He waits for his mother and siblings to head into the castle before heading down the stairs, down where you had come bringing your good brother.

He doesn’t have to search long for you—you’re right there on the beach, your head tilted upwards as if in silent meditation. The sand crunches underneath his feet as he closes the distance between you two, and just as you’re within arm’s reach, he stops.

And he waits.

When you finally turn, you regard Aemond with the same smile that had greeted him on your nameday all those years ago, tinged with just a bit of sadness. He wonders if you get your seemingly eternal warmth from the late queen; whatever the case, he certainly has never felt it with any of his siblings, even the one you share all your blood with.

“You’ve gotten tall,” is the first thing you say to him. “You’ll probably be as tall as Daemon.”

“I’ll be taller,” he promises, and your smile grows wider, only for it to drop just as quickly. Aemond remembers the very reason you had come, and the history you shared with Laena. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You turn back towards the beach, and Aemond moves to stand next to you. “It is our loss,” you correct him. “Laena was kin to you and me both.”

Aemond nods in response. You duck your head and sigh deeply, the grief you feel leaving you looking aged. “I left Pentos the day before she died,” you whisper. “I promised to be back for the birth, but…”

“They say she went into labor early,” Aemond says. “You couldn’t have known.”

You keep your eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t think I could have borne to see it,” you continue in a shaky voice. “She died trying to birth a son, and my mother—”

You choke on the last word, and for a moment Aemond fears you would start crying. He reaches for your hand, and you squeeze it gratefully in response.

But you don’t, and instead take the time to be silent and count your breaths, all the while holding onto his hand like an anchor. When you raise your eyes to the sky once more, he sees all the stars reflected in them.

When you speak again, your voice is steadier. “You remind me of her, you know. Laena.”

Aemond struggles to find an answer, one that would insult neither you nor the deceased. You seem to sense his hesitation, and you squeeze his hand again. “Our dragons weren’t born to us,” you say, confirming his thoughts. “Though I became a dragonrider earlier than she did. She cried the first time I mounted Silverwing, and cried again when I took her up years later.”

“The second time…out of fear?”

“At first, I suppose. But she was laughing, too. Always a wild one, Laena was.” You sigh. “You’re just as spirited as she was. Fearless. Bold.”

“If I were fearless and bold, I’d have a dragon by now,” Aemond grumbles.

“It isn’t that easy, I fear,” you tell him. “I’ve spoken to scholars and warlocks and magicfolk of all kinds in the Free Cities. Some of them are of the opinion that dragons are not as willing as we might imagine.”

“We’re a family of dragonriders. One dragon-less member is hardly enough to discredit that fact.”

“Our Valyrian blood is the exception, not the rule. Had we been so confident in its mere presence, I daresay we ought to have more dragonriders around.”

“Especially with Aegon,” Aemond offers.

“Especially with Aegon, yes,” you chuckle. “It may well be that our blood is a contributing factor. But dragons have minds and hearts of their own. Some say they are even more intelligent than we are. The right is not freely given, Aemond. It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.”

You turn to face him then, and it’s only when you do so does Aemond realize he has indeed grown taller; he no longer has to tilt his head upwards to properly meet your eyes. You take his other hand in yours, and he feels the calluses from years of dragon-riding brush against his skin.

“I told you you were as spirited as Laena was,” you say. “Like her, you are also kind. Compassionate. Smart. Loyal. You are everything our House stands for and more.”

For the first time in what seems like years, a genuine smile spreads across his face. “I’ve missed you,” he admits.

“As did I,” you whisper, and your eyes travel to the sapphire brooch you’d given him all those years ago, nestled just above the middle of his collarbone. You let your fingers skim over the gem lightly, before pulling away from him. “Father has mentioned that we may stop by Dragonstone to see if any of the eggs there take your fancy.”

Aemond’s spirits rise. “Really?”

“Really,” you promise. “If nothing does, Rhaenyra’s told me that if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, you’ll have your pick from them.”

He lets out a breathy laugh; he could think of Rhaenyra’s sudden act of kindness as a way to win him over to her favor, but surely Viserys had agreed to the Dragonstone visit only upon your request. He had never been known to turn you down, and the impromptu visit to the Free Cities was clear proof of it.

To think, you had talked him into it for Aemond’s benefit…

He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Wait. You said “we”. You’re coming home? You’re coming with me to Dragonstone to pick an egg?”

You give him another one of your comforting smiles. “If you’d like.”

He nods, almost too quickly. He’d come to Driftmark expecting to have the secondhand grief hanging over him like a storm, not to feel as if he’d been denied the sun for years before this very moment. He imagines walking off a ship onto Dragonstone and leaving atop Vermithor, as he’s always thought of doing. He replays a scene from his dreams where he finally flies next to you, the Good King and the Good Queen’s mounts flying over the realm once more.

He’s almost too happy to notice you’d reached out to brush his hair away from his face. “You might take a little inspiration from Laena,” you advise him. “She was dragonless for years, and yet she did what many thought was impossible.”

“She claimed Vhagar,” Aemond says, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“She certainly did.” You squeeze his hands before slipping out of them. “Now, go to bed. Your mother will have my head if she finds out I caught you after dark and did nothing.”

The same cry pierces through the night sky again, and Aemond watches as you head back up to the castle. He wants to call out to you again, to tell you what he’s been hearing all day, to confirm something that had clicked at your words just now.

Aemond stares across the sea, in deep thought.

The right is not freely given.

He turns to the west, to the source of the strange cry.

It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.

He begins walking.

“It will heal,” Alicent frets. “Will it not, maester?”

Aemond winces as the needle pierces his flesh, dreading the answer; but even with one eye, he sees it on the maester’s face as clear as if he had both.

Alicent audibly sobs at the revelation, and Aemond isn’t sure if his feeling light-headed was due to the blood loss, the pain from the little scuffle he’d gotten into earlier, or just remnants of his encounter with Vhagar. He tries to link it to the last factor; it was the only good thing he got out of the entire ordeal.

He’s no stranger to dragon-riding, as you’ve taken him up on Silverwing many times before. But to be completely alone, to hold the reins and be solely responsible for directing the flight, to ride the largest dragon in the world, a Conqueror’s dragon—

Something flutters in his periphery, and Aemond turns his face to see you, still in your nightclothes. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you, knowing that surely you of all people would rejoice at the news…

But he watches as you rush past everyone else to where Lucerys was, his face still bloody and nose crooked from where Aemond had punched him. Lucerys cries out when you attempt to set his nose, and you shush him comfortingly, kissing the top of his head before checking on Jacaerys.

What little happiness left in Aemond ebbs away as Rhaenyra calls for him to be “sharply” questioned, as Viserys demands he reveals where he heard the rumors over Rhaenyra’s sons parentage, as Alicent loses her patience and attempts to exert justice on his behalf by force. All those he could have lived with…if not for you standing behind Rhaenyra quietly, moving only to shield Jacaerys and Lucerys from Alicent. If not for you barely even sparing him a glance.

When he tells his mother an eye was a fair trade for a dragon, he means it.

But when he thinks about you as part of the price, he's not as certain.

"Be calm, Vhagar," Aemond instructs the great beast. He tries to climb the ropes, as he had the night before, but Vhagar continues to squirm.

He sighs, trying to focus. Walking was already disorienting enough on its own, but flying with a limited depth of perception was another matter entirely. But Aemond's no stranger to challenges—this is just another he has to conquer.

"Obey, Vhagar," he reminds the dragon. "Serve me."

"She feels your pain," someone tells him, in the same tongue.

Aemond grips his ropes tightly, his jaw tightening as he tries to maintain his composure. He turns in the direction of his good eye, and when he finds no one, he lets go of the ropes to turn the other way around. Sure enough, you were there, in full riding gear.

He'd forgotten that he was supposed to stop by Dragonstone to pick an egg. And he'd forgotten that that was probably the only reason you had to return to King's Landing.

Now, perhaps, he's left you with no other choice but to remain on Driftmark, as Rhaenyra and her family did. Worse, you'd probably go back and dig up your own potential match to Qoren Martell.

Funnily enough, though, the thought didn't stress him out as it used to.

"Dragons and their riders share a special bond," you continue. High Valyrian was the most beautiful language to ever exist, and even with all things considered, Aemond still thinks it's at its best when he hears it from you. "What you feel, they feel. Your friends are theirs, and your enemies, they will endeavor to crush."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he says.

"I say it as a warning," you reply. "You must keep your emotions in check if you want to have a safe flight, without any dire consequences."

Aemond laughs humorlessly. " "Keeping emotions in check"? Is that what you did last night?"

You frown. "You don’t understand."

"I lost my eye," Aemond hisses, pointing to the bandaged side of his face. "On account of that bastard."

"Aemond.”

"You were supposed to be on my side!" He's raising his voice now, and Vhagar shakes her head in agitation. "You understood me better than anyone, you know the truth about our nephews, you were supposed to stand aside and let my mother seek justice!"

"They are our blood, regardless," you remind him gently. "We protect our own."

He stomps in frustration. "You were supposed to be happy for me," he snarls. "I have a dragon now, and all of those warlock shits that you spoke to were all wrong. I proved them wrong."

"Yes, you did," you tell him, and it takes everything in him not to pull his hair out over your patience. "But I hope you know that having one does not change who we are. Dragon or no dragon, you are still you. Still Aemond."

His fury threatens to boil over. "Go away."

"I want to help you, Aemond," you coax. "You've gotten past the first ride, yes, but with one eye, you're going into unknown territory. You will need a new saddle, too. There's still so much I can teach you."

"Go away!" he screams, running forward just to push you away. "I don't need you! Don't come near me, don't ever presume to speak my name, and don't you ever come home!"

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but he thinks he sees you flinch. Whatever it is, you try to maintain your composure. "You don't mean that, Aemond."

"I do," he insists, turning and hauling himself up the ropes. "I hate you. Go away."

It takes nearly forever before he finally reaches the saddle. The view from atop Vhagar with one eye certainly was disorienting, but not as bad as he'd originally thought. He looks up to see Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already up in the air, and he gains a sense of pride; he would be flying back to King's Landing with his trueborn siblings.

Out of habit, he tries to ascertain where you were. He deduces you had left just as he'd demanded you to, but pushes the guilt down to focus.

"Obey me, Vhagar," he shouts over the wind. "Fly!"

The dragon rumbles in response, and Aemond holds on tightly as Vhagar makes her way towards the edge of the cliff, before spreading her wings and taking flight. The short drop makes his stomach flutter delightfully, and he tugs on the reins to pull her higher into the sky.

He drinks in the feeling of seeing Aegon and Helaena on either side of him, and even dips Vhagar to greet his mother watching atop the same ship he'd arrived at Driftmark on.

When he finally gets the nerve to look back, Driftmark continues to disappear into the distance, but he can barely make out a familiar figure flying east.

He turns his attention back forward, thinking of nothing but the breeze in his hair and the sun washing over his skin.

The morningstar swings idly at Criston's side as he and Aemond circle each other, like mountain lions about to pounce at any given moment. Aemond twirls his sword in his hand, scanning his opponent from head to toe and watching his every move.

When Criston swings, Aemond dodges, immediately understanding what fight pattern his teacher was about to go for after years of experience. The crowd around him grows, the whispers now starting to irritate him, but he remains calm and collected.

The morningstar comes down on Aemond's other side, and he moves; he treats it as a dance, and the weapon an overeager partner (gods know how many Aemond's had to deal with at feasts).

Criston smirks, but Aemond can tell he's running out of steam. "Shall we have a respite, old man?" he teases.

His teacher opens his mouth to retort, but he's interrupted by a guard by the nearest watchtower.

"Dragon!"

Aemond looks up in confusion. All dragons go straight to the Dragonpit, he thinks. Why would they warn of a dragon, unless…

A high trilling sound, louder than what was normally heard so deep into the Red Keep, causes everyone within the vicinity to look around. Aemond's fingers slacken around his sword—he knows that call.

Silverwing soars into the courtyard, circling the area thrice before Aemond realizes she was trying to land.

"Clear the way!" His voice booms across the yard, and servants, nobles, and guards alike frantically move to open up a space for the dragon to land.

However, it did not seem to be what the silver mount had in mind; gasps ranging from those of shock to wonder echo throughout the Red Keep when you land your dragon atop the very gate, causing those on the watchtowers on either side of you to cry out in fear.

Aemond shakes his head in disbelief, watching in a near-trance as Silverwing dips down to allow you to dismount carefully. The years melt away as you walk over to where he and Criston were training, completely ignoring the stares you were receiving.

"Princess," Criston says, bowing deeply. "You know dragons aren't allowed this deep into the Red Keep."

"Really?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. "There are a whole score of them here, so I did not think it any harm to add one more."

Criston laughs, a short but genuine sound. "Welcome home, Princess."

You nod your head in response, before turning to Aemond. He remembers the last words he spoke to you as if he'd just said them yesterday, and not all those years ago. He remembers panicking after you never indeed come home, opting to resume your travels across the Free Cities.

He remembers spending six years trying to come to terms with the fact that he might never see you again.

What does he even say, now that you've proved him wrong?

Thankfully, you relieve him of that burden. "Brother," you greet amicably.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying (and failing) to piece together a sentence. Criston shoots him a sideways glance.

Aemond eventually settles for a nod, before his sword slides out of his grasp.

You look like you're about to burst into laughter.

"I hope he's better with a sword than he is with women, Ser Criston," you say wryly, before heading into the castle.

As soon as you've disappeared, Criston turns to Aemond, a single eyebrow raised.

"Be quiet," Aemond mumbles as he reaches for his sword.

Aemond doesn’t mull over the potential reasons for your arrival long, as the answer comes to him by the news that you have not left Viserys’ bedside all day, even to eat. He leaves you to it, equally because the incense in his father’s room lingers about him for hours, and equally because he has nothing to say to you.

But whatever your intentions were, they immediately took second place in favor of the news that the Sea Snake had suffered a mortal wound while fighting in the Stepstones, leaving the succession of Driftmark in doubt. Rhaenyra, along with her now-husband Daemon, all but materialize into the Red Keep, no doubt to secure Lucerys’ claim.

Aemond next sees you on the day all claims to the Driftwood Throne were made, just before the entire court had begun to settle in. In a brief stroke of madness, he makes his way over to where you were, drinking in your startled expression before changing course towards Rhaenyra and her sons. He gives them the usual courtesies, much to their bewilderment, and even strikes up a conversation with Jacaerys over their encounter in the courtyard, where he was training. His good eye flickers over to you, silently bidding you watch as he walks over to Daemon.

To his great satisfaction, he’s a couple of inches taller.

Aemond could have sworn he saw you smile.

It does occur to him that perhaps you have come to fulfill your father’s wishes and to marry at last, now that Viserys is on the brink of death and the succession (in Aemond’s mind, at least) remains unclear.

No doubt that thought weighs heavily on Alicent’s mind, also, given that she’s let slip a couple of times that she’d wished for you to marry one of Vaemond Velaryon’s sons. But that plan died on the floor of the throne room along with Vaemond himself, who destroyed his ambition by letting his pride get the best of him.

Through you, any House would have closer ties to the throne, and the various other lineages you’ve been linked to. That House would also be bound to whichever party secured that pact for, and all their strength and swords would be theirs.

Perhaps you’d be wed to Joffrey. No doubt that would keep you on Rhaenyra’s side forever, had you not already declared for her in all but writing. Qoren Martell was no longer a viable option, given that he’d taken your absence as an insult and married some other noble lady. Had Borros Baratheon not already married, you’d probably be his, owing to his House having hosted you in your youth. Cregan Stark. Whomever at the Vale had the claim after Jeyne Arryn. Some old and balding Riverlands lord.

But Aemond has a better idea.

Your serving girl answers the door, and her eyes widen at the sight of Aemond looming over her.

“Is the Princess still awake?” he asks quietly.

The serving girl swallows. “She is, my Prince, but…”

“I thank you in advance for your discretion,” he interrupts, reaching over to place a bag of gold dragons in her hand. Bribery was the oldest trick in the book, and yet it was always Aemond’s last resort; so many things, even principles and skills that people spend their whole life trying to cling to, could be traded at the mere sight of a gold dragon.

To the girl’s credit, she seems to struggle over the dilemma, and Aemond owes it to her to give her a moment. When she purses her lips and turns away, he steps back in victory.

The few times he’s entered your apartments, it’s always empty, on account of you being somewhere else. He’s never had a reason to stay long, if only to bask in the ambience of a room you’d spend a lot of your time in, before turning to other matters that require his attention.

Now that you’re there, however, he realizes it does not differ much from his own apartments. The same layout, but a different air about it. Less cold. More you.

Aemond waits for the serving girl to close the door behind her, and he keeps a respectful distance from your bed, allowing you some time to make yourself presentable.

“The hour is quite late, brother,” comes your tired tone.

“My apologies, sweet sister,” he says, walking forward. “I had to see you.”

You were indeed already in bed, putting a book aside when he stands at the edge. You regard him carefully, clearly wondering about the purpose of his visit, before you sigh and move to throw the covers off yourself.

He holds up a hand. “Please.”

“I cannot see you in this light,” you reason.

“Then allow me.”

Aemond takes the box of matches from you, moving about the room to light the candles. The room glows brighter, allowing him to see the shift you had put on for bed. Your silver hair hangs about you like spun moonlight, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.

“To what do I owe this late-night visit, then?”

Aemond sets the matchbox down, before turning to you. “I apologize, again,” he says. “I was not certain you’d stay in the Red Keep for long.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“I regret I do not have the answer. You’ve never really explained the reasons behind your frequent absences from court.”

His direct tone surprises you, and he sees it in your face. But gone are the days where he stumbles over his words, cherry-picks through them to find the ones that would please you the most.

The boy you knew died the night his eye had been taken. And he wants to prove it to you.

“You think your little stunt this evening will not change anything?”

A smirk threatens to play on his lips. “Call it what you will, I was simply expressing how proud I am of my family.”

“Clearly, pride comes in the form of insulting your nephews’ parentage,” you shoot back.

“Is that why you’re contemplating leaving again? Leaving Father to succumb to his wounds alone over the truth?”

He’s never seen you this angry before; you were always the most patient sibling. “Did you come here to try and elicit some anger from me? Was your intention to alienate the only friend you have at court?”

His jaw clenches. “I am the Prince. I have no shortage of friends.”

You scoff. “With that tongue of yours, I am sure that’s true.”

“If you would like to bring my tongue into this matter, I can talk of more than just friends.”

“Your nocturnal activities mean little to me, Aemond,” you say, your tone getting fiercer and fiercer with every word. “If you mean to brag about your conquests, I suggest going to your brother instead of me. Now, if there is nothing else—”

“Why do you refuse to marry?”

Now that catches you off-guard. You look up at Aemond questioningly, but he stands his ground. He will not repeat it. He knows you have heard.

“I—I hardly think any of my decisions should matter—”

“But they do,” Aemond interrupts, moving forward to sit at the edge of your bed. “Had Father been anyone but who he is, you would have long been married by now, with children. Your husband and children would have been Rhaenyra’s, if you insisted on backing her claim. You know the benefits, and yet you refused. Why is that?”

You sigh, fidgeting with the covers uncomfortably. “I do not expect a man, even you, dear brother, to understand.”

“I’m smart. Try me.”

You give him a look so scathing, that if he were a lesser man, he would have backed down immediately. But the fire in your eyes sets his blood aflame, and he wants nothing more than to stoke them.

“My mother died attempting to give Father a male heir,” you say. “Laena gave her life for a son that did not live and wanted to ride Vhagar before she bled out. Helaena has to bear children for a philandering, drunken husband who shares her bed only when he’s out of whores to fuck. Rhaenyra dedicates her life to a realm who will not accept her because she has a mind of her own and not a cock between her legs. History will not give you women that are as miserable as the ones in our family.”

“And yet, you run from your duty to save your own skin.”

You elect not to respond to that.

Aemond sighs. “Qoren Martell would have cherished you. He said he’d wait forever for you.”

“If “forever” meant half a year, certainly,” you mumble. “I have no desire to marry, Aemond. No one expects me to be Queen, nor would my children ever come close to the throne. My only regret is that I never told my father the truth when he was still sound of mind.”

Aemond remains silent, letting your words sink in, while wrestling with his own. You lean forward, letting the covers fall to expose your skin. His eye widens at the sight, and he swallows thickly as you reach for his hand. As your fingers close around his, he has to wonder: were they always this small?

Against his will, his body turns towards you, and he shuffles up your bed so you don’t have to reach that far to touch him. With your other hand, you cup the side of his face, and he briefly flinches when you gingerly brush the pads of your fingers against his scar.

“May I?” you whisper.

He was never one to refuse you.

He keeps his one eye closed as the eyepatch leaves his skin, and is replaced by your curious fingers. He hears you suck in a breath.

He opens his eye to see you regarding the sapphire, your gift to him all those years ago, with a strange sort of reverence (despite the playful jab he had offered). He knows you’ve already seen his missing eye at its worst: swollen shut and stitches marring his face. Now, the scar has healed but not quite disappeared; Lucerys Velaryon had made his mark on Aemond forever.

He’s taken to putting jewels where his eye used to be so as not to scare the ladies at court, but he finds your sapphire fits the best, ironically. The parallels to his father's eye, gouged out by his illness and eaten through by maggots, is not lost on him, either.

"You haven't seen it since it happened," Aemond says. "It's healed. But it has left its mark. There are some things that just cannot be forgotten, as your sister is so often told otherwise."

"Our sister," you correct him. "And I know Rhaenyra regrets the incident, too."

"I don't need any of her regrets or apologies."

"Then why are you here?"

Aemond doesn't answer, and instead fixes you with the same chilling, weighted stare that he’s often been chided by his mother for having. Had you been a lesser being, you would have cracked under the pressure of his gaze.

But you are the blood of the dragon, fierce and proud and unafraid. No man, not even the one you share blood with, could ever make you back down. The look in your eyes ignites something in him; a feeling not unlike the one he gets every single time on dragonback. He steals a glimpse of the smooth expanse of your throat, then lower, and even lower…

Aemond pulls away sharply, leaving your hand drifting midair.

“The entire kingdom expects you to marry soon, rather than late,” he says, attempting to salvage what was left of his self-control.

You tilt your head. “The kingdom, your mother, or my sister?”

“I regret to say all of them do. But your fears will not be ignored.”

“Do you have a better idea, then?”

Aemond hesitates, testing the words on his tongue before letting them leave his lips. “You could marry me.”

Your reaction is what he expects it to be.

You withdraw your hand sharply and get out of bed, and Aemond gets to his feet, allowing you to increase your distance from him.

“Does…does no one listen to a word I say?” you ask in agitation. “I never thought to hear these words from you, brother, I—”

“This match has its merits,” Aemond says. “I will not insult your intelligence by discussing them one by one.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“…Father’s.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Father?” you ask incredulously. “Father was barely able to speak in complete sentences before today, and you expect me to believe he’s behind such a large arrangement?”

“Can you prove that he isn’t?”

All of a sudden, you’re standing inches away from him, a finger jabbed into his sternum and your eyes blazing with anger. “You are not getting away with this on a technicality,” you hiss. “Tell me the truth of it.”

“Is the thought of marrying me that repulsive to you?”

“Not if it’s born out of lies.” You clutch the collar of his shirt. “Why do you want to marry me, Aemond?”

He looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. He can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. Your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. Every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

He hates that, even with one eye, he does.

You await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

“To…to preserve the family line,” he answers.

And your face just falls.

You gently detach yourself from him, leaving him impossibly cold despite the roar of the fireplace nearby.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat. “I’m afraid I will have to refuse you. As I did Qoren. As I did everyone else.”

Your words echo around his mind, as if you’d shouted it to him in an empty corridor. Aemond does nothing but stare at you, and you hold his gaze with a practiced ease.

He doesn’t remember leaving your room, nor does he remember if you’d said anything to him as he did. But the next day, he breaks fast alone: his mother missing, Aegon not expected to wake until well in the afternoon, Helaena tending to the children, and Rhaenyra’s family having left for Dragonstone at first light.

When a messenger arrives to inform him that Silverwing had left the Dragonpit before dawn, he simply waves them away.

Aemond takes the death of his father in stride.

He operates exactly how logic demands him to, what he’s always been expected to do. He takes great pains to track Aegon down and forces him to face the reality that Aemond would have accepted without a fight. He keeps Jaehaerys and Jaehaera company as Helaena is prepared for her joint coronation with Aegon, sobbing the whole time her maids fit her into her dress, all the while fighting back thoughts of you donning the magnificent dress made for a future queen.

He gets through the coronation, and is momentarily forced into action when Meleys and Rhaenys disrupt the ceremony. But when the Red Queen and the Queen Who Never Was depart, he settles back into his work.

None of the things he was doing required emotion. He had no need for it. He’s gone for so long without an eye, he can live without a heart.

It’s why he can accept Borros Baratheon’s terms without batting an eye, why he can choose the first of his daughters that crosses his line of sight. He may grow to love her, he thinks, as he offers her a tight-lipped smile, and he may look at her someday without you lurking in the back of his mind.

But the gods that decreed he’d lose an eye, the gods who damned him to years of being dragon-less, are the very same gods that bring Lucerys Velaryon to Storm’s End.

“Go home, pup,” Borros spits, his voice booming like thunder all over the hall. “And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up and need to set against her foes.”

Lucerys keeps his head up, unwilling to show any semblance of weakness. Aemond wants to laugh; his entire body screams fear from head to toe. “I shall take your answer to the Queen,” he replies, his voice steadying at the last word. “My lord.”

Ever the consummate fighter. Had he not been born a bastard, Aemond might have actually liked him.

“Wait,” he calls out. “My Lord Strong.”

Lucerys pauses, taking a moment before looking back at Aemond. His eyes glint with a familiar fire that only eggs Aemond on.

“Did you really think,” he says. “That you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Lucerys scoffs. “I will not fight you,” he asserts. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge. No…” Aemond moves to remove his eyepatch, a burst of lightning illuminating the sapphire sitting where his eye used to be. “I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine.”

Lucerys pales. For a moment, Aemond wonders if he recognizes the jewel in his eye socket. He presumes not, and even with you now forever out of his grasp, he can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. He had something Lucerys Velaryon had not—your favor.

“One will serve,” he continues casually, retrieving the dagger he keeps on his person and tossing it onto the ground between them. “I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

What fear was in Lucerys’ face left at the sight of the blade, and was replaced by an expression of pure defiance. The adrenaline rushes through Aemond’s veins, practically begging Lucerys to make one wrong move. The looming threat of war, the despair that threatens to crush his mother, the look on Lucerys’ face that looks so much like—

“The Princess [Y/N] of House Targaryen!”

Lucerys nearly staggers in his attempt to turn to the door, and the lump in Aemond’s throat rises as you walk into the hall. You take one confused look at Lucerys, another at Aemond, then at Borros Baratheon.

“Am I to host the entirety of House Targaryen in my hall?” Borros shouts.

You raise an eyebrow. “I admit my surprise at seeing two more dragons than expected in your courtyard,” you say. “But, lest my lord forget, you invited me for the Lady Cassandra’s nameday tomorrow.”

Aemond frowns, and Lucerys looks equally confused. Was it possible that you hadn’t…

Borros gets to his feet. “I will not have this,” he snarls. “I will not be spoken to so casually by dragonspawn, and the least of them, least of all!”

Lucerys reaches for his sword, a look of great affront painted all over his face. Aemond turns his attention to Borros, ready to strike at any given second.

Silence falls over the group, interrupted only by the sounds of the storm raging outside.

You raise your eyebrows.

And Borros bursts into laughter.

Floris stifles a giggle from behind Aemond, as do all her other sisters next to Borros. Aemond and Lucerys share a quick look, all enmity momentarily forgotten in the confusion.

“You have not changed at all, Princess,” Borros continues to laugh heartily, as he settles back into his throne. “My father always told me you would have made a better Baratheon than a Targaryen.”

“And as I’ve told your father, I’d leap off one of your cliffs first before I’d give up the life of a dragonrider,” you say, entering the hall and making your way into its center as if it had been your home all this time.

And it’s then that Aemond remembers you’d been hosted at Storm’s End in your youth, and later named godmother to one of Borros’ daughters.

“But I must admit my confusion, Princess,” Borros says, as soon as he’s finished wiping the tears from his eyes. “I hardly think this is the time for celebrating.”

“I fly all the way back from Volantis to be told it isn’t the time for celebrating,” you repeat dryly.

Borros looks at Lucerys, to Aemond, then back to you. You mimic the action, and when your eyes settle on Aemond, it takes a while for you to get it.

Your lips part in shock, and he watches as your eyes slowly widen.

“I’m…I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Princess,” Borros says, his voice sounding the gentlest Aemond has ever heard all day despite the gruffness in his tone. “You know how highly my father and I held the late King in regard. If there is anything we might do…”

“You are too kind, my lord.” You clear your throat. “You are right, of course, this is not the time for celebrations. I will see the Lady Cassandra on the morrow, but first…” You walk over to Lucerys and wrap an arm around him. “I believe Prince Lucerys’ business here is finished. I ask your leave to escort him back to Dragonstone.”

“Granted,” Borros replies. “Safe travels, my friend.”

Aemond seethes as the guards follow suit, and as you press your lips to Lucerys’ ear as you turn him around. “If you leave,” he near-growls. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

Your head whips around, and you meet his gaze with a fury he’s never known you to hold. “Not here,” you snarl.

Wisely, Aemond holds his ground.

You take one last glance at the Baratheons, before tightening your grip on Lucerys and leading him out of the hall.

When the door shuts behind you, Aemond retrieves his knife, just as he hears one of the Baratheon girls scoff. He follows the sound to the lady standing closest to Borros, who had on an expression of pure contempt.

“Princess or not, she had the gall to speak to a Prince like that,” she says. “No wonder she’s not yet married. What man would take her?”

“Maris, hold your tongue,” Floris warns.

Maris ignores her sister, looking at Aemond straight in the eye. “Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” she asks, voice sweet as honey despite the venom in her words. “I am so glad you chose my sister. I want a husband with all his parts.”

Aemond’s mouth twists in anger. “Lord Borros,” he nearly spits through his teeth. “I ask your leave to depart, as well.”

Borros harrumphed in response. “It is for me to tell you how to act whilst not under my roof.”

Aemond turns on his heels, barely sparing his betrothed a glance before disappearing out the door.

Despite the relentless rain, all Aemond’s senses were heightened as if he were the beast he rides, focused solely on the hunt. He wants to see that look on Lucerys’ face again—that look of pure fear. Pure helplessness. He wants to see all those years’ worth of misery weigh on his entire being, threatening to crush Lucerys with every second that passes.

The laugh that leaves him is one of pure glee as Lucerys and his dragon just barely dodge Vhagar, and he only urges her after them. He shouts a command, and the great she-dragon opens her jaws, closing with a sickening snap that causes Lucerys to cry out in fear.

The dragon takes Lucerys even lower, and to Aemond’s great dismay, they disappear between two cliffs. He takes Vhagar’s reins and heaves; she follows suit, albeit with great difficulty.

The fog clouds his already-compromised vision, and the only things he sees above the gorge are the tips of dragon wings as it beats up and down. “You owe a debt!” Aemond bellows, the frustration of being denied his vengeance lining every single one of his words. “Boy!”

Vhagar notices it before he does, and moves her head to the left. He barely sees it in the darkness of the storm, but there was an unmistakable flash of white that wasn’t a streak of lightning. He pulls to the left, cursing. Finally took advantage of your handiwork, Lucerys? he thinks bitterly. Flying in my blindspot…who would have thought…

Perhaps the storm had grown fiercer, or the fog had gotten thicker, but Aemond only now gets glimpses of Lucerys’ dragon, unlike the direct confrontation that had occurred just earlier. It was unlikely that it had gotten used to Vhagar’s flight pattern so easily, given its age and how inexperienced Lucerys clearly was…

“There!” he shouts, and Vhagar follows without further instruction. The new direction is one that turns the wind against them, and Aemond wonders how such a young dragon fares in such terrible conditions. But Lucerys and his dragon were now up ahead, growing bigger as Vhagar closes the gap in mere moments…he could have sworn that the dragon was a little brighter than that…

A hard gust of wind nearly blows him back in his saddle; blinking the tears out of his eye, he dodges the cloak that Lucerys had previously donned as it flies past.

Revealing a taller figure in the saddle, sporting bright silver hair…

You sense the shift in Vhagar’s disposition almost immediately.

The roar she lets out is enough to shake the entirety of Storm’s End to its very core, and Silverwing shakes her head, clearly agitated. You glance over your shoulder to see Vhagar being pulled back, and you know you have run out of time.

You could only hope that you had bought enough to allow Lucerys and Arrax to escape.

“Listen carefully, Luke,” you shout over the rain, as both you and your nephew make your way to your dragons. Lightning flashes, and you look to the east; your stomach drops when Vhagar is nowhere to be found. “Aemond will try to follow you as you leave.”

You take Lucerys’ face in your hands. “You must find him and Vhagar first. Get them to chase you, and take them to the gorge just a few miles away from here.”

“How will I—”

“It isn’t hard to miss. Fly Arrax through that gorge, go as low as you can. I will meet you there.”

“But you—”

“After that, go as high as you can and go with the wind so you can go faster.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks fearfully. “Vhagar is the largest dragon in the world, and—and Aemond’s angry, and—”

You shush him, brushing his curls out of his face as you have so many times in his youth. “Vhagar is also the oldest dragon in the world,” you remind him. “And Silverwing and Arrax will look nearly identical in this storm. I will try to stay in Aemond’s blind spot, and trust that his dragon will not know the difference.”

The tears start to well in Lucerys’ eyes. “This is my fault,” he begins to cry.

“It is not, sweet boy.” You pull him into an embrace, and Lucerys grips onto your shoulders almost painfully. When Arrax shrieks, and Silverwing hisses at the sky, you pry yourself out of Lucerys’ grasp, tilting his head up.

“I may still reason with Aemond,” you say. “But at least one of us must make it back to Rhaenyra, to tell her what has happened here. I intend it to be you.”

“But—”

“Be brave, Lucerys,” you tell him, and in High Valyrian, you command just as much as you soothe.

Your mother had told you to be brave, too, just days before she’d died on the birthing bed.

Was that the same fate that awaits you in the jaws of a dragon? You suppose that, one way or another, you would leave this world in the same manner.

You find a rocky beach, and you will Silverwing towards it. The pebbles crunch in a strange sort of symphony under her feet, as it does under yours when you dismount. The waves pummel the shore just inches away from where you stand, waiting for the inevitable.

You press your forehead against Silverwing’s head, feeling the she-dragon purr at the contact. No doubt she was feeling the same things you were feeling, after so many years of flying together, but you want to let her know how much she means to you.

A terrifying growl shakes the beach, and Silverwing hisses as Vhagar appears just above you. You hold onto her as the dragon hits the ground, her sheer size causing nearly half of her body to be submerged in the ocean.

You watch as her rider dismounts, his blade glinting in the darkness as he makes his way over to you. When you move to meet him halfway, Silverwing blocks your path, wailing. You feel a surge of affection for your dragon wash over you.

“Be calm,” you instruct her. “Obey.”

Silverwing keens in protest, but obliges, withdrawing reluctantly, only to roar in contempt when Aemond points his blade towards your neck.

Amidst the heavy rain and thick fog, Aemond Targaryen stands tall and proud, his missing eye doing little to discredit the fact that he now looks every inch a god. You could find no trace of the boy you’d known all those years ago, the one who’d followed you everywhere in the Red Keep, the only one of your half-siblings who’d managed to maintain a solid correspondence with you when you were away.

But perhaps he is still in there, somewhere hidden behind the clear wrath in his eye.

“None can stand between a dragon and its prey,” you begin. “A Conqueror’s dragon and her blood, even less.”

“And yet here you stand,” Aemond spits.

“And yet here I stand,” you repeat calmly.

Aemond studies you carefully. You keep your gaze trained on him, completely ignoring the blade he holds to your throat.

“You know the truth of Rhaenyra’s sons,” he hisses. “You’re no fool, yet you choose not to see it. Would you let the pups of House Strong sit on our father’s throne, and his grandfather before him?”

“They have just as much Targaryen blood as you do.”

“Do not—” He presses the tip of his sword directly against your skin, and Silverwing growls in warning. “Do not dare question my heritage.”

“I would never,” you say quietly. “But surely you see why I cannot let you do this.”

“Would you lay down your life for your traitor kin?”

“They are all I have left.” Your voice quivers dangerously. “You may deny their parentage all you like, but you cannot deny that they are my blood still.”

“I am your blood!” You hadn’t realized that Aemond had dropped his blade in favor of closing the distance between the two of you, looming over you like a malevolent shadow in the pouring rain. “‘Tis I who know you better than anyone else; I, who wrote back to you and sat every night by the windows of the Red Keep waiting for you to return; ‘tis I who study history and philosophy and politics to elevate myself to your level.”

Thunder rumbles overhead, and you blink the rain out of your eyes as you continue to stare up at Aemond. You think you catch a glimpse of the child he once was when he holds your gaze so defiantly, but he scoffs, and turns away from you.

“Lord Borros was right,” he spits. “I stand to destroy myself, risk my brother’s cause, worry my mother senseless, and for what? The whims of the last in line to the throne? A mere afterthought, forever in the shadow of her sister? A spoiled bitch who flees with her tail between her legs at the very thought of duty?”

You shake your head, and despite the gravity of the situation, you have to smile. The rocks crunch beneath your feet as you move towards him this time. When your hand presses against the middle of his shoulders, just opposite of his heart, you feel him jolt.

“Words hurt less to those who have heard the same all their lives,” you tell him gently. “But if it comforts you to lash out at me, I will not stop you. I daresay by the time you end, Luke will have already returned to Dragonstone.”

Aemond growls as he turns and grabs you by your arms. Silverwing hisses and snaps, but backs down when Vhagar moves forward.

“Stop acting as if I was a child,” he demands. “I can challenge the greatest knight of the Seven Kingdoms and ride the largest dragon our world has ever known. I am the closest in line to the Throne. The Aemond you knew died the night Lucerys Strong took my eye, and if you mourn him, you will step aside.”

“I cannot,” you whisper, but you might as well have screamed it in his ear. “I told you on Driftmark, didn’t I? You are still the Aemond I know. The Aemond who fought during my nameday tourney all those years ago, giving it his all despite being out of the lists earlier on. You believed that it was Alicent that put you in the lower lists, did you not?”

Aemond stares at you, clearly not following.

“You thought and acted exactly as I’d hoped. I’m sorry you were embarrassed because of it. But…if you would forgive my selfishness…I wanted you by my side in the King’s box, not injuring yourself on the jousting field for my favor. I would have always given you my favor, no matter how many you’d win against.”

You reach up to brush away the hair sticking against his face in the cold rain. “Because it’s you,” you say, running a thumb down the strap of his eyepatch before gently lifting it up. “You’re my Aemond.”

The sapphire that once sat in the brooch you gave him glints in what little light the storm permits to shine. No doubt that to many, it only serves to further unnerve those who already shift uncomfortably in his presence, but to you, it rivals the stars you’d stared at, thousands of leagues away from home, quietly wondering if Aemond was looking at them too.

The expression on his face is a mixture of surprise, admiration, and pain all into one. You know his true feelings; he’d made it known the night he asked for your hand. You would have given it to him gladly, freely, had he been honest about his reasons. A loveless marriage was the last thing you wanted for yourself in this lifetime, the very reason you’d run away from home all those years ago, causing your own father grief; you weren’t about to have it start with a blatant lie.

You think he understands everything now, by the way his shoulders slump and how Vhagar nearly purrs in content. It’s only confirmed when he reaches for your hand, still warm despite the biting cold.

“You’re not playing fair,” Aemond murmurs. “You would make me a kinslayer…every word you speak will damn me for all eternity, and yet…”

He shakes his head. “You know why I’ve come here. Baratheon’s banners for a marriage pact. You’ve scorned me once before. What makes you think I could ever give in to you now?”

“I dare not force you to choose,” you respond. “But know that I will not move from this place; how you will deny me, I leave it to you.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches. “How kind of you to make things simple for me.”

He backs away, and you close your eyes, waiting for the frigid storm to be drowned out by a shower of dragonflame. You think of Lucerys, and how you hope Arrax was able to navigate the storm all the way back to Dragonstone. You think of Rhaenyra, too, your sole full-blood sister, and the tears that you’d shared together in the Sept on your namedays. Your chest grows heavy with grief at the thought of Viserys, and how he’d begged you with his rattling breath to stay, only for you to leave the very night he’d passed.

You should think about what your death would mean; the pain that would cause your kin, the war that was bound to follow. But your last thought, ironically, might ultimately be of the man who would bring about your demise.

Seconds pass. Silverwing falls silent.

And you feel Aemond’s lips on yours.

[goldensunfyre]

the aftermath

summary | as the poe cup has come around, xavier finally finds the chance to tell you your feelings, but he expressed them at the wrong time

pairing | xavier thorpe x fem!reader

warning | fluff, angst, xavier is hopelessly in love and an idiot, miscommunications, yoko being the bestest friend, it's mentioned reader is a vampire

word count | 1.6k

You couldn’t feel like celebrating, the team gathered in yours and Yoko’s room, well except for Wednesday. 

Numbly sitting on your bed, you watched as Enid, Yoko and a few other girls from Ophelia came to celebrate, dancing around with the cup. 

“Aren’t you happy Y/n?” Enid turned to you. You finally came out of your head looking up at her. “You okay, you don’t look so good.”

Looking up at them, you sighed, “Xavier kissed me today.”

There was a moment of silence before all the girls cheered around, squealing. Yoko pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly.

There was a moment of silence before all the girls cheered around, squealing. Yoko pulled you from the bed, hugging you tightly.

“See, I told you it was bound to happen.” They smiled, “He likes you back.”

“Wait,” Divina interrupted, though not around the winning team, she came in support for Yoko, “when did it happen? You never went away from the group.”

“During the Poe Cup.”

“You all stay here, and watch over the boat!” You yelled to Yoko, Enid and Wednesday before running off into the forest. 

Ajax and Xavier had a head start of you but you were determined to make it ahead and finally win the cup this year. 

Looking back, you saw Bianca slowly coming in the background, whipping your head back around, bumping into someone.

“Woah watch where you’re going.” You felt them wrap their hands around your bicep to stabilize you before helping you stand up straight. 

“Xavier.” You sighed. As much as you wished for something to happen, you couldn’t let anything get in your way of getting that flag. 

“In such a rush?” There was a playful glimmer in his eyes, “I think we have it this year.”

“In your dreams.” You clipped back. 

“Oh, I do dream of you.” Your eyes soften slightly at the statement, before you remember where you are.

“Let me go!” You tried to wrestle out of his grip. Xavier was adamant of having you in his arms, and didn’t seem like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. 

“Leaving me so soon.” He smirked, “One more thing.”

You couldn’t even think after what happened. One second you could see the flag in your field of vision and the next, you felt being pushed against a tree, with Xavier’s lips on yours. 

His hands slowly trailed down your arms, wrapping them around your waist, your hands subconsciously placed on his chest. You couldn’t even register what was happening, dreaming of this moment. 

Kissing him back, your hands were wrapped around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. 

Feelings his hands dance around your torso, you heard the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer. 

“I got it!” Your eyes widened at the sound of Ajax’s voice, pulling away from Xavier, seeing Ajax behind him with the flag in his hand. 

Putting two and two together, you looked at Ajax then looking back at Xavier who had that cocky smirk on his face. 

“Good luck.” He whispered in your ear before running off. 

You felt embarrassed, angry, all whirlwinds of emotions. Swallowing it down, you ran to grab the flag before sprinting back to the boat. 

“What took you so long!” Enid practically screamed, pulling you back into your spot. Having the clear vision of you guys holding the Poe Cup, you couldn’t think of what had just happened, rowing even faster. 

The four of you started to row back, passing the AmontiLlado boat, seeing them starting to sink. You felt proud at the moment seeing Xavier’s face of defeat but turning back. 

You ran behind Enid and Wednesday ran towards the finish, you all cheering for your victory. 

“He kissed while I went to get the flag, and he-uh kissed me to distract me while Ajax was able to get their flag.” You confessed. 

“Oh honey.” Yoko cooed, wrapping their arms around you, leaning your head onto their shoulder. 

You didn’t want to cry, it was supposed to be a happy moment but nonetheless, you felt your eyes starting to water. Letting the tears cascade, you sobbed out loud. 

“I really liked him.” You cried, the rest of the girls all sat around you, consoling you. “And he used me!”

“He’s not worth it.” Enid said softly. 

On the other side of campus, Ajax sat at the edge of Xavier’s bed, watching him pace back and forth in his room. 

“Dude, you're giving me a headache.” Ajax said, “Can you say something.”

“God, I’m so stupid.” Xavier muttered for the hundredth time at night, pulling at the roots of his hair. 

“Anything but that.” Ajax sighed, he didn’t know how long he heard him muttering under his breath, “Just talk to her.”

“I can’t.” Xavier looked up at his friend, “You didn’t see her face, she looked heartbroken, it was like I betrayed her.” It wasn’t one of his best moments, but Xavier couldn’t hold it in anymore and kissing you while grabbing the flag wasn’t the time. 

He planned it all, after you or him won, he wanted to tell you how he felt, kiss you then. 

“Explain to her then.” Ajax offered, “You can’t avoid her forever.”

But you did. 

The following Monday, you walked through Nevermore with Yoko, ignoring Xavier like the plague, which was a pain because of the numerous classes you had with him. 

Walking into Mrs. Thornhill’s class, you started to make your way towards the back to sit with Yoko, but frowning when you saw Enid there. She sent you a sheepish smile before looking over your shoulder. Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked over your shoulder to see the station where Xavier was sitting, with an empty seat next to him. 

Turning around you looked back at Enid and Yoko, sighing and rolling your eyes behind your sunglasses. 

Setting your stuff down the table, you took the seat next to him. 

“Hey.” He whispered, turning towards you, “You’re wearing your sunglasses, you never do.”

It made you feel a little happy that he noticed things about you, but shaking it off. 

The sun never bothered your eyes that much, never really needing to wear sunglasses, but after spending most of the weekend crying, your eyes were red and puffy. 

“Alright class.” Mrs. Thornhill called, you thanked whoever saved you at that moment. 

Xavier was dying to talk to you, get your attention, anything. Looking out of the corner of your eye, you saw him scribbling on the back side of his paper, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Looking up at Thornhill, you saw something being slid by your books, you looked down, seeing the self portrait of yourself. It was from the Poe cup, the cat makeup on your face, and the ears that Enid made you wear. 

Your eyes soften slightly, seeing how beautiful the picture was. Collecting yourself, you pushed it back to Xavier, gathering your stuff before walking out of class. 

“Y/n, wait up!” Xavier called for you in the crowded hallway. You turned back, seeing how everyone had been looking at the two of you. You wanted to talk, but you didn’t need half the population of Nevermore listening in. 

“C’mon.” It was the first thing you had said to him in three days. Walking ahead of him, Xavier was on your heels, letting you take him anywhere. Arriving in front of the Poe statue, you look around the corridor before snapping twice. 

As the statue started to move back, you both walked down the stairs in the Nightshades library. 

Both of you stood in the middle of the room, both of you waiting for the other to talk. 

“I just want-” Xavier started. 

“Did you mean it?” You interrupted him. Your voice held no emotion, your body was stiff waiting for his answer. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Did you actually want to kiss me or was it to distract me?” You explained further. 

“No, of course not.” Xavier shook your head. 

You couldn’t help but start to ramble, “Because if it was, that was truly cruel, everyone knows how I feel about you and if you used my feelings to try to win, I don’t think I can be around you anymore and-”

Before you could finish, Xavier grabbed the side of your face, his hands on your cheek while his thumbs cradled your jaw, kissing you. You breath sucked in, your eyes wide, not even registering what was happening.

Your hands pushed against his chest, pulling him away from you. 

“You can’t do that.” Your voice faltered. “You can’t play with my feelings like that!”

Xavier’s hands were still on your face, moving away from your cheeks, pulling your sunglasses off your face. 

He saw the tears in your eyes, using the pad of his thumb, to wipe away the tears that started to cascade down your cheek. 

“I love you.” He said softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. “And I’m an idiot.”

“You are.” You laughed quietly. 

“Ajax told me I finally needed to tell you, and I had this whole plan, kissing you after the race, when we won.”

“When I win.” You corrected him. 

“Right.” He smiled, before continuing. “And what happened during the forest, I just couldn’t hold it in anymore, I was an idiot for leaving you like that, I should have explained myself afterwards.”

“You really love me.” Your hands were wrapped around his wrists.

“Of course I do.” He smiled. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life telling you.”

“Yoko’s gonna freak when I tell them.” You chuckled. 

“Really.” He started to smile, “I just told you I love you and all you’re thinking about is Yoko’s reaction.”

“Of course.” You smiled. “So are you gonna kiss me again?”

“For the rest of my life.”

fin.

[goldensunfyre]

to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

pairings: aemond x fem! Targaryen! reader / original female character

word count: 15,053

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: TARGCEST, age gap, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth, swearing (aemond has a potty mouth)

additional notes: we interrupt your regular genshin x reader viewing by bringing you this (big) little thing I wrote for aemond targaryen. he had me in a chokehold until I finally relented and. this is it.

expect a couple more works on this pathetic little meow meow and an eventual update to an ode to heartbreak!

read this work on ao3

“I don’t understand,” Aemond says in disbelief, pushing his helmet’s visor out of his face as he attempts to decipher the contents of the note. “How could I have not been informed of this earlier?”

Ormund shrugs. “Perhaps the tourney masters thought it best to rearrange the lists. More signed up for the games than they thought.”

“Their poor planning does not justify an inconvenience on my part,” Aemond scoffs. “I am a Prince of the realm. I should be placed higher up on the lists.”

“Never mind that, cousin,” Ormund attempts to console him. “It is your first tourney, after all—”

“—and yet it is one we all look forward to seeing.”

The two look up to see Aegon sauntering into the hall, grinning from ear to ear as if he’d just been privy to a particularly humorous joke. Aemond rolls his eyes as he shoves the note into Ormund’s hand.

“Why so tense, dear brother?” Aegon nudges Aemond playfully. “I only speak the truth. You’ve never really thought much of tourneys.”

“Some of us like to keep most of our thoughts to ourselves,” Aemond shoots back, as he fiddles with his armor. “Where’s Helaena?”

“Back in the castle.” Aegon jabs his finger behind him. “All the shouting was getting to her, so Mother had me escort her back.”

At Aegon’s words, Ormund’s expression lit up in realization. “Perhaps it was the Queen behind it!”

“Shut up!” Aemond hisses, at the same time Aegon asks, “Behind what?”

“Er…” Ormund scratches his head, lowering his gaze in response to Aemond’s murderous one. “Behind, er, the Princess’ nameday tourney.”

Aegon scoffs. “My mother can hardly be credited for my sister’s nameday tourney. We all celebrate our namedays for days at a time, with tourneys and feasts galore.”

He glances around, taking in the sight of the contestants and squires milling about the area. “Though our sister’s nameday tourney has, indeed, piqued the interest of all. How strange.”

“Hardly,” Aemond mumbles. “She comes of age today.”

“Ah!” Aegon claps his hands. “Our beloved sister comes of age today, yes. I wonder just what the prize is for this tourney.”

“Surely, His Grace would not decide who Princess [Y/N] marries based on who wins today’s tourney?” Ormund says, blissfully unaware of Aemond slightly wincing at his words.

Aegon frowns. “Have you never picked up a history book, cousin?”

“Have you?” Aemond retorts.

“Of course I did. I never said I read them, though.” Aegon sniffs. “It’s not usual, but it’s certainly not new. Tourneys are simply pageants in all but name. See for yourself.”

The trio turn to see a tall, sweeping teenager, with locks the color of night and skin like copper parading about the hall, his bronze armor chased with red, a spear piercing the sun on its front.

“Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers, a sense of dread washing over him.

Aegon hums. “Came in right at the last second, as they were drawing up the lists.”

Ormund turns to Aemond, holding up the note he had been reading earlier, an expression of understanding dawning on his face. Aemond fidgets beneath his armor, hating that Aegon had a point for once; there really wasn’t any other plausible explanation for Dorne to finally start taking an interest in the Crown’s affairs.

Aegon looks over at him, seemingly contemplating his next line. He decides instead to clap Aemond’s back, sending him forward. “Oh, don’t worry, brother! The Dornish don’t mind sharing their lovers. They seem to enjoy it, in fact.”

Aemond turns and walks briskly away from his brother, Ormund hastily trailing beside him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course, Aegon had to press further, keeping up with Aemond’s pace in a couple of long strides. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says. “If there’s anything the Dornish get right, it’s their outlook on bastards. I’m sure Prince Qoren wouldn’t mind if [Y/N]’s children turn out to have silver hair and a remarkable resemblance to a certain other Prince—”

Aemond stops abruptly to stare Aegon directly in the eye. “[Y/N] is not you. You would let our sister disgrace herself and put the stability of the realm at risk?”

Aegon towers over him, smirking triumphantly. “You and I both know that’s not any of your concern.”

“Then you do not know me.” Aemond turns away again, walking towards the edge of the hall where the tourney field was being set up. Hordes of people continued filing into the stands, some of whom were dressed to the nines despite the sun beating down upon them like a drum. He glances at the King’s Box, watching as the newest arrivals, the Velaryons, occupy their seats next to Rhaenyra and her children.

A mix of gasps and cheers sound from the smallfolk as a shadow passes over them, coupled with a familiar-sounding roar. Aemond squints up at the sky, and his heart practically leaps at the sight.

The voice of the Master of Revels announcing your arrival is all but drowned out by Silverwing’s proud roar, as you land her atop the King’s Box, jostling the people inside. Rhaenyra grabs the end of Lucerys’ coat to keep him from falling off trying to look up at you, while Lyonel Strong steadies a visibly surprised Viserys. Aegon lets out a hearty laugh at the sight, and Aemond could not help but join in.

It’s only when the she-dragon lowers her neck does Aemond finally get a better look at you. You’re grinning from ear to ear, and the only thing that could compete with the brightness of your smile was the glint of your silvery hair in the sun. Your dragon climbs down the Box, much to your family’s chagrin as they grip the arms of their chairs to stay steady.

Silverwing dips herself to the ground of the tourney field, allowing you to dismount and pat her neck before you wave to the crowds. You don a black dress chased with blue (which Aemond presumes is for your late lady mother, who was an Arryn), with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered on your front.

“A fly might make its way down your throat if you don’t close it,” Ormund murmurs in Aemond’s ear, and he only sniggers as Aemond elbows him in the stomach. When your eyes meet his, he prays his ears aren’t as red as he thinks they are.

“Seven blessings on your nameday, dear sister,” Aegon says, pairing the mock reverence in his tone with an exaggerated bow.

You only snort as you remove your riding gloves. “Save your courtesies for someone who actually believes them.”

“Now, is that any behavior befitting a lady who has just come of age?”

You deliver a playful punch to Aegon’s midsection, which he just barely dodges.

Ormund bows. “I wish you a happy nameday, Princess.”

Aemond fidgets nervously, silently cursing both Aegon and Ormund for getting to greet you first.

You smile warmly. “Thank you, Ormund.” When you turn to look at Aemond, you reach out to push his visor out of his face. “Finally joining the lists today, eh, Aemond? I never thought you were interested in jousting.”

Aemond opens his mouth, but no sound leaves it. Behind you, Aegon raises his eyebrows, giving him a look that says, Say something!

“I…decided to test my skills today,” Aemond manages.

Aegon silently gestures for him to keep going.

“…and I thought your nameday would give me extra luck,” he adds, now feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

You laugh, reaching over once again to pat the front of his armor. He wonders if you can feel his heart hammering underneath the cold metal.

Aegon clears his throat, glancing at something behind Aemond; in his periphery, he sees Qoren Martell hovering around the group. Ormund, miraculously, gets the silent message.

“If you would excuse us, Princess,” the Hightower lord says, slapping the back of Aemond’s armor. “As his loyal squire, I have a duty to get Prince Aemond ready.”

You nod in understanding. “I will pray for your opponents,” you say solemnly, and a genuine smile finally breaks out onto his face.

“Will you allow me to escort you back to the King’s Box?” Aegon says in his mocking tone once again, and you wrinkle your nose before dropping your hand into his.

Ormund pushes Aemond in the other direction. “Come now, my Prince,” he says. “You’d better get ready if you want to win the Princess’ favor.”

“I’ve been put in the lower lists,” Aemond reminds him miserably, while keeping his eyes trained on Qoren Martell attempting to strike up a conversation with you.

“What of it?” Ormund scoffs, suddenly sounding confident. “It just means you’ll score more victories. Makes the final one all the more sweet. Just trust your training, and you’ll have Qoren Martell on his fat Dornish ass before you know it.”

It seemingly only takes a split second for all the air to leave Aemond’s lungs when he crashes into the dirt. Though his armor had taken the brunt of his fall, pain shoots all over his body like tendrils of lightning, ironically leaving him feeling momentarily weightless.

He manages to roll onto his back, gasping for air and staring up at the sky above. The ringing in his ears subsides enough for him to hear the triumphant shouts and the shocked gasps of the crowd, as well as the neighing of his distressed horse. He blinks the stars out of his eyes, and after remembering seeing a Bolton squire die from a lance to the throat, he checks himself for any injuries. To his relief, he seemed to be physically fine.

“My Prince! Aemond, cousin!” Suddenly, Ormund was hovering over him, distress and clear fear in his eyes. “Speak to me, are you alright?”

“I’m…” Aemond coughs, feeling his lungs constrict, then relax. “I’m fine.”

A tourney master joins Ormund. “Will you continue with a contest of arms, my Prince?”

Ormund helps Aemond sit up, and he catches a glimpse of his sword lying off to the side. He blinks again, and his vision finally returns to normal; he sees his opponent (who, by the stag on his armor, Aemond surmises is a Baratheon) jumping off his horse and running over to him.

You fool, Aemond wants to shout. If your opponent wished to continue, you might have benefited from the distance.

But he glances over to the King’s Box, where members of his own family were peering over at him, awaiting his decision. His mother leans over the railing the furthest, so much so that her ladies were trying to restrain her.

He does not see you.

Aemond sighs and shakes his head, and the tourney master nods.

“Prince Aemond forfeits! The winner of this round…”

“My Prince!” The Baratheon boy tosses his helmet to the side, sticking his hand out. Aemond clicks his tongue, but accepts the gesture, allowing his opponent to pull him up. “It was an honor to tilt against you, Prince Aemond. I hope to be given the opportunity again.”

Not likely, Aemond wants to snap back. But he only gives the boy a brief smile and a respectful nod, before turning away.

“Do you need help?” Ormund offers.

“No, be quiet, keep walking,” Aemond commands, keeping his head held high. He nods and waves to the crowds shouting out their congratulations to him, deliberately ignoring the pain he was starting to feel in his left leg.

As soon as he was out of both the public and his opponents’ sight, Aemond finally gives in, grabbing the wall for support as he reaches down to tug at his armored leg.

“Aemond!” Ormund throws one of Aemond’s arm over his shoulders. “Sit down, I’ll call the maesters.”

“No, no need,” he hisses in reply. “Just help me get my armor off.”

“But you might have twisted or broken your leg, I—”

“If I had twisted or broken my leg, you’d think I’d bloody well know, wouldn’t I?” Aemond snaps. “You’re my squire, act like it. Just take off the damn armor.”

Ormund blinks. Aemond feels a twinge of regret over the venom in his tone, but elects not to say another word. He instead works on the buckles of the metal, all the while trying to swallow down the growing lump in his throat and blink away the stinging in his eyes. Ormund finally assists him, detaching the parts away and allowing Aemond to stretch his limbs out.

The humiliation weighs over him even as he climbs into the King’s Box. Ser Criston Cole is the first to greet him, and after looking over him to find no serious injuries, pats Aemond’s shoulders. “You did very well, my Prince,” Criston assures him. “Don’t lose heart. You’ll get your chance one day.”

Aemond offers him the same tight-lipped smile he’d given his opponent, and keeps it on as his mother hurries over, worry painted all over her face.

“Are you alright?” she fusses, pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking as if she was about to demand he remove all his clothes in front of all who were present. “The lance—I thought it went through—”

“His armor took the blow, Your Grace,” Ser Criston says. “The Baratheon squire’s lance splintered against it, yes, but there’s no harm to him as far as I can see.”

A Baratheon squire. Aemond’s jaw locks in anger; he, a Prince of the realm, had lost to a Baratheon squire of all people.

Alicent sighs. “You scared me, deciding to enter the lists out of nowhere. Perhaps you should wait until you’re a little older before—”

“Why did you place me further down the lists?” Aemond hisses, keeping his voice as low as possible (but failing to contain the anger in it).

Alicent frowns. “What?”

“I was supposed to tilt against the likes of Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers furiously. “I am the son of the King, in line to the throne, brother to the Princess to whom this tourney is dedicated to! Why wasn’t I placed where I was originally supposed to be?”

“I am not liking your tone, Aemond,” Alicent warns. “Remember that you are not of age yet. This is a vile, cruel game where men attempt to kill each other for sport. Be grateful that you were even allowed at all to compete.”

Aemond opens his mouth to protest, but Alicent gives him a look so scathing, whatever argument he had promptly died in his throat. He grunts in displeasure and pushes past her, ignoring his father's Council members congratulating him as he goes.

He finds his seat regrettably next to Aegon, who at the sight of him, bursts into uncontrollable laughter. Aemond surges forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra's outstretched arm.

"You did well, little brother," she says, though all Aemond hears is the underlying distaste that she seems to reserve solely for him, Aegon, and Alicent. "But settle your scores with Aegon later. I'd rather not ruin my sister's day with any of your antics."

Aemond removes her arm from his path, sauntering forward and dropping into his seat, taking care to crush Aegon's foot underneath his. A heavy hand finds its way onto his shoulder, and he turns to find its owner, a scowl on his face ready to greet them—

"Well done, my boy," Viserys says, a smile on his lined face. "Next time, you'll win. I know it."

One could almost take your words for affection, old man, Aemond thinks, as Viserys pats his shoulder again before settling back in his seat. Still, he manages a polite, "Thank you, Father," before turning back to the tourney still playing out beneath him.

It takes a while for him to realize that you were sitting right across him, already turned to face him with your signature blinding smile. You reach out to pat his interlocked hands. "Father's right," you tell him. "You'll win next time. If you focus on your training."

"I will if you will," he blurts, before he could stop himself.

"Ha! I feel I'm much better at riding a dragon than wielding a sword."

The moment is shattered when Lucerys (who Aemond just realized had been sitting on your lap the entire time) begins to wave your wreath around wildly, causing you to turn away from Aemond to keep your nephew from falling to the ground.

He watches as, to nobody's surprise, Qoren Martell wins the tourney. The Dornish Prince urges his horse forward towards the King's Box, and asks for your favor. Rhaenyra nudges Ser Laenor, the two sharing knowing glances as you stand with Lucerys in your arms and balanced on your hip, instructing the boy to toss your crown of red and black roses into Qoren's hands, much to the delight of the spectators.

In that moment, Lucerys’ curly brown locks no longer suspiciously remind Aemond of the Commander of the City Watch standing right next to Ser Laenor, but of the man staring adoringly from below as you and Lucerys wave to the crowds.

Aemond stands, mumbling an excuse in his brother's ear, and leaves the Box in a hurry.

Having to watch as Viserys deliberately has Qoren sit next to you during your own nameday feast had irritated Aemond beyond measure, given that he could do nothing but pick furiously at his own food as Qoren regales you with tales of his House and region. It had seemed like forever before the King had finally gone to bed, and even then his torture ended bitterly with Qoren bringing your hand to his lips.

Rhoynar scum. He scowls as he slams the door behind him. Your lot come from vagabonds at sea with no real homes. Our blood is the blood of Old Valyria, the blood of kings and conquerors and warriors. She rides the Good Queen’s dragon. What in the Seven Hells could ever possess you to think you could have her?

Aemond opens the window to his room, allowing the cool breeze of the Red Keep to wash over his agitated figure. Aegon’s teasing, Ormund’s obliviousness, and Qoren’s audacity had given him a migraine like he’d never had before, yet he could not find it in himself to sleep it off.

Of course he was fond of you, that much was certain. He’d always looked up to you, asked for your advice, took great comfort in the fact that your dragon had not been born to you either. It had always been his crutch for when he laments his lack of a dragon, what with Sunfyre hatching in Aegon’s cradle and Helaena claiming Dreamfyre shortly before her tenth nameday. Ultimately, though, Aemond supposes he hadn’t much to go on about you other than the fact that you took the time to get to know your half-siblings, unlike your actual full-blood sister.

He’d mulled over the idea of claiming Vermithor, who at this point was the only known dragon that had yet to be claimed after the death of Jaehaerys. He would imagine himself flying alongside the Good Queen’s dragon atop the Good King’s, and what a poetic ending that would be for all his troubles.

A knock comes at his door. “My Prince, I apologize for the late hour,” one of his servants calls out to him. “Princess [Y/N] is here to see you.”

Aemond’s head whips around. “Send her in,” he replies almost immediately.

The door swings open to reveal you, still in the same dress he’d seen you in that morning, the only difference being your hair now let down; a silvery waterfall, not unlike his own.

He turns to face you, heart hammering in his chest.. “What…what do you want?”

“I came to check on you,” you reply. “You fell hard earlier, I didn’t get a chance to check how bad it was.”

Aemond chuckles dryly and gestures for you to sit. “ “How bad it was”, huh?”

“Our family is more than fond of tourneys,” you remind him. “We’re just about the only ones that are not. I would be lying if I said I was not surprised that you changed your mind today.”

“I’ve not changed my mind.” Aemond picks at his sleeve. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Never have and never will.”

You laugh, and though it is a quiet sound, he tries to fool himself into thinking it’s more genuine than the ones you’d shared with Qoren. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He sits there with you in silence, and for the first time all day, he relaxes. It’s nice, he thinks, to simply be in your presence, where no one—not even himself—expects him to do something to impress you.

Being with you was enough.

That said, the thought of you leaving for Dorne forever leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Namedays are always a time for celebration,” you begin. “I confess, however, that my nameday…always comes with a tinge of sorrow.

“I went to the Sept with Rhaenyra this morning. It’s always been a habit of ours on our namedays. It’s really less of us praying to the Seven for good fortune, it’s more of…finding comfort in the silence. It…it’s where we hear our mother and siblings the best.”

He nods in understanding.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, staring off into the distance wistfully. “Father’s always been good at putting on a mask,” you continue. “He’s good at it, too, probably from all the years he’s had to do it. But today would have been Baelon’s nameday, too. And today was also the day when Mother…”

You duck your head.

Aemond leans forward to capture your hands in his. Despite his own misgivings with Aegon, he had to admit that it was difficult to imagine a life without him. He would have been the heir, forever put against Rhaenyra. Forever put against you, one of the few of her true kin.

You squeeze his hands gratefully. “In any case,” you say. “I am glad you’re no longer interested in tourneys, otherwise I would not have brought you this.”

You produce a box from the depths of your skirt and slide it over to Aemond. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “It’s your nameday and you’re the one giving out gifts.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I have a whole mountain of them in my apartments, very few of which I would actually care to have. I take far more pleasure giving things to you.”

Aemond shakes his head, finally relenting and opening the box. Glittering among the plush dark velvet was a sapphire brooch, as blue as the waters of the Narrow Sea, sitting in a bed of pure starlight. He lifts it from the cushion and sits the gem in his palm gingerly, admiring its weight and the way it glints, even by the dying fireplace.

“The sapphire was my mother’s,” you explain. “One of many I’d inherited from her. I had it re-cut and set.”

Aemond swallows thickly. “I…I can’t take this. If it was from your mother, then you should—”

You interrupt him by closing his fist over the jewel, holding his fingers down with a firm grip. “I want you to have it,” you tell him firmly. “We are one House now, no matter what others say. None may divide us. Keep this with you as a reminder, you hear me?”

You stare at him with such intensity that he has little to do but agree. You pat his hand and rise from your seat. “Think of it as my favor,” you say, and he doesn’t miss the slyness in your tone. “You have no need to fight in tourneys or any sort of battle to earn it. It will always be yours, Aemond.”

Words he’d been keeping buried for months were bubbling on his tongue now, tearing down the walls that he’s had to construct all his life to keep them from destroying what he has with you. Resistance seemed futile now, now that you had bid him goodnight and turned to leave his room.

“Don’t marry him.”

Your hand had been on the door at his words, and you do him the considerable honor of pausing in surprise before turning again to look at him. “Aemond?”

“Don’t marry him,” he repeats, desperation now leaking into his tone. “Qoren Martell. You were never meant to marry a Dornish, even the first of them, so…”

He wrestles with his words, and you seem oblivious to his agony as you stare, clearly waiting for him to finish. He inches closer and closer to the brink, and there seems to be nothing tethering him to reality anymore, save for the erratic beating of his heart.

You purse your lips, and the expression on your face is something he can’t read—did you think him foolish for telling you not to do your duty? Or did you perceive his desperation as an act of childish jealousy, a brother imploring his sister not to give anyone else the time of day?

What did he think his words meant?

You do not give him an answer. “Good night, Aemond,” you whisper, and you slip quietly out the door.

Your betrothal to the heir to the Dornish throne had begun to sound less like a rumor and more like a given fact, with the endless whisperings fluttering about the Red Keep like irksome flies. Viserys certainly did not do much to silence them, and Aemond had the misfortune of hearing him discuss potential dowries with Rhaenyra.

He had to admit that it was an ideal match, and certainly one he would have considered seriously were he in his father’s place. Any king who would bring Dorne into the fold would be credited with something even the Conqueror could not have done, further cementing his place in Westerosi history. Aemond often dreams of having his name written down in the history books, never just as an afterthought or a simple second son, but of a warrior king who made the Seven Kingdoms truly one, with a queen by his side who would cast a shadow over all who would succeed her.

But like his position in life, all his dreams had to occur in the darkness of the wings; the only good thing about it was that, given their unlikeliness, he was free to dream just a little bit more.

In a surprising turn of events, however, he’d received the news that you had suddenly mounted Silverwing and taken off. At that moment, Aemond truly curses the lack of a dragon—he could have just gotten on and tracked you down, not go through the humiliation of asking Aegon (or any of his kin, for that matter) for a favor. He would have had to explain why it was so important for them to take time out of their day to find out where you had gone, because beyond you being a Princess of the realm, he had no other reason (that he’s willing to admit, at least).

Even Helaena, whom Aemond had realized could see things before they happened, offered no help in this matter. She had even expressed confusion at the very notion, much to his frustration.

So, he turns to his last resort.

Jacaerys looks up from where he was cleaning his armor, clearly surprised to be addressed. “She isn’t at Dragonstone,” he tells Aemond. “She could be anywhere, for all we know.”

“She didn’t tell you anything?” Aemond presses. “No notes, anything?”

Lucerys fiddles with Aemond’s gauntlets, and for a brief moment, Aemond sees you in his little face. “I think she’s gone to Daemon.”

“Prince Daemon? Why would she…”

“It’s just a guess,” Jacaerys says, scratching the back of his neck. “The last we heard of him was that he was in Pentos with the Lady Laena. They’re our only kin living beyond Westeros, and [Y/N] was always fond of Lady Laena.”

Of course. Aemond wants to smack his forehead. It made sense. You, Rhaenyra, and Laena had always been so close. But it wouldn’t have been his first guess, not when a marriage proposal didn’t seem too far behind…

Jacaerys’ and Lucerys’ guess seems to hold merit, as the small council receives reports of a silvery dragon flying east. It’s only confirmed when you finally write to your family, stating that you were indeed exploring the Free Cities and would be staying there for an indefinite period of time.

Funnily enough, your message had arrived at the Red Keep the same day the Dornish party did.

The excuse given had been that you were sent off as an envoy to the southern Free Cities to ascertain the peace, following the Triarchy’s defeat at the hands of the Daemon-Velaryon alliance. Aemond had to restrain himself from laughing in the throne room at the Dornish lord’s baffled expression, as well as the irritation that Viserys had kept well-hidden beneath his kingly persona.

That same night, he’d received a raven from you, carrying a brief message and a couple of trinkets you had collected on your travels thus far. It had been as if a giant weight had been taken off his shoulders, and in the privacy of his own room, he finds himself running his fingers longingly over your handwriting.

But your letters begin to stack on his desk, the gifts you bring him start to collect dust on his mantle, and every day holds less and less promise of you finally returning to King’s Landing. He’d thought you would finally return shortly after Rhaenyra gives birth to her third son, but aside from a written note of congratulations and a messenger bringing gifts, you never do. Aemond finds himself sitting by his window every night, deluding himself into thinking a bird flying over Blackwater Bay or the occasional cloud would be Silverwing, bringing you back to him.

But you don’t, and he finds solace only in his lessons and his training, stealing glances at the sky whenever he has the chance. He’d thought your absence would finally rid him of thoughts and desires unwanted, but all it is is a thorn in his side; a dull ache that flares up every now and then, much like his old leg injury.

When news of Laena Velaryon’s death reaches King’s Landing, and as he sits next to his mother on the ship, his thoughts were only of you, and if you had already been in Driftmark for a while now. He should have known better when he sees no silver dragon sitting amongst the gold, blue, grey, and red amongst the rocks.

After giving his condolences to the Velaryons, Aemond walks around aimlessly, the disappointment sinking in with every passing second. Politicking thinly veiled as courtesies seem to follow him everywhere he goes, and he eventually finds respite in Helaena’s presence, though it would seem she had not noticed his.

Of course, Aegon had to come and disturb it, only to repeat what he had been complaining about for weeks.

“We have nothing in common,” he grumbles, gesturing to Helaena.

“She’s our sister,” Aemond replies curtly, as he has done many times before.

“You marry her, then.”

“I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” The words weigh heavily on Aemond’s tongue.

Aegon scoffs. “If only.”

“It would strengthen the family,” Aemond parrots what he’s learned in his lessons. “Keep our Valyrian blood pure.”

“She’s an idiot!”

“She’s your future Queen.”

Aegon lowers his goblet, and from his periphery, Aemond can see his brother watching him carefully. He keeps his gaze on Helaena muttering under her breath, waiting for Aegon to call him out for the double meaning in his words.

Fortunately, he doesn’t. “We actually do have one thing in common,” Aegon says, as he throws the rest of his drink back and reaches for the next, his eyes lingering far too long on the serving girl. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.”

Aemond only shakes his head in resignation, feeling a surge of pity for Helaena. It’s the first time he actually feels relieved that you had left before you’d gotten any offers of marriage; he dreads the thought of you being doomed to suffer the same fate as Helaena.

A dragon’s cry pierces the air, and Aemond looks up sharply. He rushes to the edge of the courtyard, listening as best as he could with the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

He scours the skies and searches among the dragons already resting nearby, to no avail. His shoulders sag; perhaps you weren’t coming, after all.

But that same cry persists, even as the sun begins to sink into the sea. Aemond has never heard a sound like it before—this one was a melancholic melody, like longingness taking flight above the waters of The Gullet. It isn’t long before his attention is drawn from searching for you to searching for the source of the sound instead, somehow feeling as if it was calling out to him.

And then it happens.

A clear and piercing trill that he initially chalks up to one of the other dragons, had it not been for Rhaenyra looking up, surprise painted all over her face. Aemond follows her gaze, and even in the setting sun, it’s clear as day—

He momentarily forgets himself and runs over to his half-sister, tugging on her sleeve. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he asks, unable to contain his excitement.

“It is,” Rhaenyra replies, pure relief in her tone. She glances down at Aemond, and it’s perhaps only then does she realize the peculiarity of the situation; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever had a casual conversation with her. Aemond lets go of her sleeve, clearing his throat and taking off in the other direction with his head spinning.

It takes a while for you to show up, but when you do, you’re soaked to the bone, with Laenor Velaryon’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and his other arm around his squire on the other side. The whispers come to a standstill, partially at the sight of you and partially at the sight of the future Prince consort looking as if he was about to follow his sister at any second. You must have found him, Aemond thinks, about to keel over into the water.

At the sight of his father, however, Ser Laenor steadies himself and limps away, leaving you in the middle of the crowd. No doubt you feel all eyes on you, but you straighten and walk to your father, who now looks as if he’s ten years younger again.

Aemond doesn’t get the chance to speak with you, not while you remain glued to Viserys’ side, leaving only to speak with Rhaenyra, Daemon, and his daughters. You’ve not changed at all over the years, save for your hair, which you had cropped short (presumably for it to not get in the way of your flying), and for your gait, as a certain confidence exudes from you as you walk or simply stand. But you were still you, much to his relief.

His thoughts take him back to the strange cry, which rings out well into the night. It’s only until his mother commands him to go to bed that he realizes Viserys has long left and you are nowhere to be found. He waits for his mother and siblings to head into the castle before heading down the stairs, down where you had come bringing your good brother.

He doesn’t have to search long for you—you’re right there on the beach, your head tilted upwards as if in silent meditation. The sand crunches underneath his feet as he closes the distance between you two, and just as you’re within arm’s reach, he stops.

And he waits.

When you finally turn, you regard Aemond with the same smile that had greeted him on your nameday all those years ago, tinged with just a bit of sadness. He wonders if you get your seemingly eternal warmth from the late queen; whatever the case, he certainly has never felt it with any of his siblings, even the one you share all your blood with.

“You’ve gotten tall,” is the first thing you say to him. “You’ll probably be as tall as Daemon.”

“I’ll be taller,” he promises, and your smile grows wider, only for it to drop just as quickly. Aemond remembers the very reason you had come, and the history you shared with Laena. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You turn back towards the beach, and Aemond moves to stand next to you. “It is our loss,” you correct him. “Laena was kin to you and me both.”

Aemond nods in response. You duck your head and sigh deeply, the grief you feel leaving you looking aged. “I left Pentos the day before she died,” you whisper. “I promised to be back for the birth, but…”

“They say she went into labor early,” Aemond says. “You couldn’t have known.”

You keep your eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t think I could have borne to see it,” you continue in a shaky voice. “She died trying to birth a son, and my mother—”

You choke on the last word, and for a moment Aemond fears you would start crying. He reaches for your hand, and you squeeze it gratefully in response.

But you don’t, and instead take the time to be silent and count your breaths, all the while holding onto his hand like an anchor. When you raise your eyes to the sky once more, he sees all the stars reflected in them.

When you speak again, your voice is steadier. “You remind me of her, you know. Laena.”

Aemond struggles to find an answer, one that would insult neither you nor the deceased. You seem to sense his hesitation, and you squeeze his hand again. “Our dragons weren’t born to us,” you say, confirming his thoughts. “Though I became a dragonrider earlier than she did. She cried the first time I mounted Silverwing, and cried again when I took her up years later.”

“The second time…out of fear?”

“At first, I suppose. But she was laughing, too. Always a wild one, Laena was.” You sigh. “You’re just as spirited as she was. Fearless. Bold.”

“If I were fearless and bold, I’d have a dragon by now,” Aemond grumbles.

“It isn’t that easy, I fear,” you tell him. “I’ve spoken to scholars and warlocks and magicfolk of all kinds in the Free Cities. Some of them are of the opinion that dragons are not as willing as we might imagine.”

“We’re a family of dragonriders. One dragon-less member is hardly enough to discredit that fact.”

“Our Valyrian blood is the exception, not the rule. Had we been so confident in its mere presence, I daresay we ought to have more dragonriders around.”

“Especially with Aegon,” Aemond offers.

“Especially with Aegon, yes,” you chuckle. “It may well be that our blood is a contributing factor. But dragons have minds and hearts of their own. Some say they are even more intelligent than we are. The right is not freely given, Aemond. It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.”

You turn to face him then, and it’s only when you do so does Aemond realize he has indeed grown taller; he no longer has to tilt his head upwards to properly meet your eyes. You take his other hand in yours, and he feels the calluses from years of dragon-riding brush against his skin.

“I told you you were as spirited as Laena was,” you say. “Like her, you are also kind. Compassionate. Smart. Loyal. You are everything our House stands for and more.”

For the first time in what seems like years, a genuine smile spreads across his face. “I’ve missed you,” he admits.

“As did I,” you whisper, and your eyes travel to the sapphire brooch you’d given him all those years ago, nestled just above the middle of his collarbone. You let your fingers skim over the gem lightly, before pulling away from him. “Father has mentioned that we may stop by Dragonstone to see if any of the eggs there take your fancy.”

Aemond’s spirits rise. “Really?”

“Really,” you promise. “If nothing does, Rhaenyra’s told me that if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, you’ll have your pick from them.”

He lets out a breathy laugh; he could think of Rhaenyra’s sudden act of kindness as a way to win him over to her favor, but surely Viserys had agreed to the Dragonstone visit only upon your request. He had never been known to turn you down, and the impromptu visit to the Free Cities was clear proof of it.

To think, you had talked him into it for Aemond’s benefit…

He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Wait. You said “we”. You’re coming home? You’re coming with me to Dragonstone to pick an egg?”

You give him another one of your comforting smiles. “If you’d like.”

He nods, almost too quickly. He’d come to Driftmark expecting to have the secondhand grief hanging over him like a storm, not to feel as if he’d been denied the sun for years before this very moment. He imagines walking off a ship onto Dragonstone and leaving atop Vermithor, as he’s always thought of doing. He replays a scene from his dreams where he finally flies next to you, the Good King and the Good Queen’s mounts flying over the realm once more.

He’s almost too happy to notice you’d reached out to brush his hair away from his face. “You might take a little inspiration from Laena,” you advise him. “She was dragonless for years, and yet she did what many thought was impossible.”

“She claimed Vhagar,” Aemond says, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“She certainly did.” You squeeze his hands before slipping out of them. “Now, go to bed. Your mother will have my head if she finds out I caught you after dark and did nothing.”

The same cry pierces through the night sky again, and Aemond watches as you head back up to the castle. He wants to call out to you again, to tell you what he’s been hearing all day, to confirm something that had clicked at your words just now.

Aemond stares across the sea, in deep thought.

The right is not freely given.

He turns to the west, to the source of the strange cry.

It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.

He begins walking.

“It will heal,” Alicent frets. “Will it not, maester?”

Aemond winces as the needle pierces his flesh, dreading the answer; but even with one eye, he sees it on the maester’s face as clear as if he had both.

Alicent audibly sobs at the revelation, and Aemond isn’t sure if his feeling light-headed was due to the blood loss, the pain from the little scuffle he’d gotten into earlier, or just remnants of his encounter with Vhagar. He tries to link it to the last factor; it was the only good thing he got out of the entire ordeal.

He’s no stranger to dragon-riding, as you’ve taken him up on Silverwing many times before. But to be completely alone, to hold the reins and be solely responsible for directing the flight, to ride the largest dragon in the world, a Conqueror’s dragon—

Something flutters in his periphery, and Aemond turns his face to see you, still in your nightclothes. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you, knowing that surely you of all people would rejoice at the news…

But he watches as you rush past everyone else to where Lucerys was, his face still bloody and nose crooked from where Aemond had punched him. Lucerys cries out when you attempt to set his nose, and you shush him comfortingly, kissing the top of his head before checking on Jacaerys.

What little happiness left in Aemond ebbs away as Rhaenyra calls for him to be “sharply” questioned, as Viserys demands he reveals where he heard the rumors over Rhaenyra’s sons parentage, as Alicent loses her patience and attempts to exert justice on his behalf by force. All those he could have lived with…if not for you standing behind Rhaenyra quietly, moving only to shield Jacaerys and Lucerys from Alicent. If not for you barely even sparing him a glance.

When he tells his mother an eye was a fair trade for a dragon, he means it.

But when he thinks about you as part of the price, he's not as certain.

"Be calm, Vhagar," Aemond instructs the great beast. He tries to climb the ropes, as he had the night before, but Vhagar continues to squirm.

He sighs, trying to focus. Walking was already disorienting enough on its own, but flying with a limited depth of perception was another matter entirely. But Aemond's no stranger to challenges—this is just another he has to conquer.

"Obey, Vhagar," he reminds the dragon. "Serve me."

"She feels your pain," someone tells him, in the same tongue.

Aemond grips his ropes tightly, his jaw tightening as he tries to maintain his composure. He turns in the direction of his good eye, and when he finds no one, he lets go of the ropes to turn the other way around. Sure enough, you were there, in full riding gear.

He'd forgotten that he was supposed to stop by Dragonstone to pick an egg. And he'd forgotten that that was probably the only reason you had to return to King's Landing.

Now, perhaps, he's left you with no other choice but to remain on Driftmark, as Rhaenyra and her family did. Worse, you'd probably go back and dig up your own potential match to Qoren Martell.

Funnily enough, though, the thought didn't stress him out as it used to.

"Dragons and their riders share a special bond," you continue. High Valyrian was the most beautiful language to ever exist, and even with all things considered, Aemond still thinks it's at its best when he hears it from you. "What you feel, they feel. Your friends are theirs, and your enemies, they will endeavor to crush."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he says.

"I say it as a warning," you reply. "You must keep your emotions in check if you want to have a safe flight, without any dire consequences."

Aemond laughs humorlessly. " "Keeping emotions in check"? Is that what you did last night?"

You frown. "You don’t understand."

"I lost my eye," Aemond hisses, pointing to the bandaged side of his face. "On account of that bastard."

"Aemond.”

"You were supposed to be on my side!" He's raising his voice now, and Vhagar shakes her head in agitation. "You understood me better than anyone, you know the truth about our nephews, you were supposed to stand aside and let my mother seek justice!"

"They are our blood, regardless," you remind him gently. "We protect our own."

He stomps in frustration. "You were supposed to be happy for me," he snarls. "I have a dragon now, and all of those warlock shits that you spoke to were all wrong. I proved them wrong."

"Yes, you did," you tell him, and it takes everything in him not to pull his hair out over your patience. "But I hope you know that having one does not change who we are. Dragon or no dragon, you are still you. Still Aemond."

His fury threatens to boil over. "Go away."

"I want to help you, Aemond," you coax. "You've gotten past the first ride, yes, but with one eye, you're going into unknown territory. You will need a new saddle, too. There's still so much I can teach you."

"Go away!" he screams, running forward just to push you away. "I don't need you! Don't come near me, don't ever presume to speak my name, and don't you ever come home!"

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but he thinks he sees you flinch. Whatever it is, you try to maintain your composure. "You don't mean that, Aemond."

"I do," he insists, turning and hauling himself up the ropes. "I hate you. Go away."

It takes nearly forever before he finally reaches the saddle. The view from atop Vhagar with one eye certainly was disorienting, but not as bad as he'd originally thought. He looks up to see Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already up in the air, and he gains a sense of pride; he would be flying back to King's Landing with his trueborn siblings.

Out of habit, he tries to ascertain where you were. He deduces you had left just as he'd demanded you to, but pushes the guilt down to focus.

"Obey me, Vhagar," he shouts over the wind. "Fly!"

The dragon rumbles in response, and Aemond holds on tightly as Vhagar makes her way towards the edge of the cliff, before spreading her wings and taking flight. The short drop makes his stomach flutter delightfully, and he tugs on the reins to pull her higher into the sky.

He drinks in the feeling of seeing Aegon and Helaena on either side of him, and even dips Vhagar to greet his mother watching atop the same ship he'd arrived at Driftmark on.

When he finally gets the nerve to look back, Driftmark continues to disappear into the distance, but he can barely make out a familiar figure flying east.

He turns his attention back forward, thinking of nothing but the breeze in his hair and the sun washing over his skin.

The morningstar swings idly at Criston's side as he and Aemond circle each other, like mountain lions about to pounce at any given moment. Aemond twirls his sword in his hand, scanning his opponent from head to toe and watching his every move.

When Criston swings, Aemond dodges, immediately understanding what fight pattern his teacher was about to go for after years of experience. The crowd around him grows, the whispers now starting to irritate him, but he remains calm and collected.

The morningstar comes down on Aemond's other side, and he moves; he treats it as a dance, and the weapon an overeager partner (gods know how many Aemond's had to deal with at feasts).

Criston smirks, but Aemond can tell he's running out of steam. "Shall we have a respite, old man?" he teases.

His teacher opens his mouth to retort, but he's interrupted by a guard by the nearest watchtower.

"Dragon!"

Aemond looks up in confusion. All dragons go straight to the Dragonpit, he thinks. Why would they warn of a dragon, unless…

A high trilling sound, louder than what was normally heard so deep into the Red Keep, causes everyone within the vicinity to look around. Aemond's fingers slacken around his sword—he knows that call.

Silverwing soars into the courtyard, circling the area thrice before Aemond realizes she was trying to land.

"Clear the way!" His voice booms across the yard, and servants, nobles, and guards alike frantically move to open up a space for the dragon to land.

However, it did not seem to be what the silver mount had in mind; gasps ranging from those of shock to wonder echo throughout the Red Keep when you land your dragon atop the very gate, causing those on the watchtowers on either side of you to cry out in fear.

Aemond shakes his head in disbelief, watching in a near-trance as Silverwing dips down to allow you to dismount carefully. The years melt away as you walk over to where he and Criston were training, completely ignoring the stares you were receiving.

"Princess," Criston says, bowing deeply. "You know dragons aren't allowed this deep into the Red Keep."

"Really?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. "There are a whole score of them here, so I did not think it any harm to add one more."

Criston laughs, a short but genuine sound. "Welcome home, Princess."

You nod your head in response, before turning to Aemond. He remembers the last words he spoke to you as if he'd just said them yesterday, and not all those years ago. He remembers panicking after you never indeed come home, opting to resume your travels across the Free Cities.

He remembers spending six years trying to come to terms with the fact that he might never see you again.

What does he even say, now that you've proved him wrong?

Thankfully, you relieve him of that burden. "Brother," you greet amicably.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying (and failing) to piece together a sentence. Criston shoots him a sideways glance.

Aemond eventually settles for a nod, before his sword slides out of his grasp.

You look like you're about to burst into laughter.

"I hope he's better with a sword than he is with women, Ser Criston," you say wryly, before heading into the castle.

As soon as you've disappeared, Criston turns to Aemond, a single eyebrow raised.

"Be quiet," Aemond mumbles as he reaches for his sword.

Aemond doesn’t mull over the potential reasons for your arrival long, as the answer comes to him by the news that you have not left Viserys’ bedside all day, even to eat. He leaves you to it, equally because the incense in his father’s room lingers about him for hours, and equally because he has nothing to say to you.

But whatever your intentions were, they immediately took second place in favor of the news that the Sea Snake had suffered a mortal wound while fighting in the Stepstones, leaving the succession of Driftmark in doubt. Rhaenyra, along with her now-husband Daemon, all but materialize into the Red Keep, no doubt to secure Lucerys’ claim.

Aemond next sees you on the day all claims to the Driftwood Throne were made, just before the entire court had begun to settle in. In a brief stroke of madness, he makes his way over to where you were, drinking in your startled expression before changing course towards Rhaenyra and her sons. He gives them the usual courtesies, much to their bewilderment, and even strikes up a conversation with Jacaerys over their encounter in the courtyard, where he was training. His good eye flickers over to you, silently bidding you watch as he walks over to Daemon.

To his great satisfaction, he’s a couple of inches taller.

Aemond could have sworn he saw you smile.

It does occur to him that perhaps you have come to fulfill your father’s wishes and to marry at last, now that Viserys is on the brink of death and the succession (in Aemond’s mind, at least) remains unclear.

No doubt that thought weighs heavily on Alicent’s mind, also, given that she’s let slip a couple of times that she’d wished for you to marry one of Vaemond Velaryon’s sons. But that plan died on the floor of the throne room along with Vaemond himself, who destroyed his ambition by letting his pride get the best of him.

Through you, any House would have closer ties to the throne, and the various other lineages you’ve been linked to. That House would also be bound to whichever party secured that pact for, and all their strength and swords would be theirs.

Perhaps you’d be wed to Joffrey. No doubt that would keep you on Rhaenyra’s side forever, had you not already declared for her in all but writing. Qoren Martell was no longer a viable option, given that he’d taken your absence as an insult and married some other noble lady. Had Borros Baratheon not already married, you’d probably be his, owing to his House having hosted you in your youth. Cregan Stark. Whomever at the Vale had the claim after Jeyne Arryn. Some old and balding Riverlands lord.

But Aemond has a better idea.

Your serving girl answers the door, and her eyes widen at the sight of Aemond looming over her.

“Is the Princess still awake?” he asks quietly.

The serving girl swallows. “She is, my Prince, but…”

“I thank you in advance for your discretion,” he interrupts, reaching over to place a bag of gold dragons in her hand. Bribery was the oldest trick in the book, and yet it was always Aemond’s last resort; so many things, even principles and skills that people spend their whole life trying to cling to, could be traded at the mere sight of a gold dragon.

To the girl’s credit, she seems to struggle over the dilemma, and Aemond owes it to her to give her a moment. When she purses her lips and turns away, he steps back in victory.

The few times he’s entered your apartments, it’s always empty, on account of you being somewhere else. He’s never had a reason to stay long, if only to bask in the ambience of a room you’d spend a lot of your time in, before turning to other matters that require his attention.

Now that you’re there, however, he realizes it does not differ much from his own apartments. The same layout, but a different air about it. Less cold. More you.

Aemond waits for the serving girl to close the door behind her, and he keeps a respectful distance from your bed, allowing you some time to make yourself presentable.

“The hour is quite late, brother,” comes your tired tone.

“My apologies, sweet sister,” he says, walking forward. “I had to see you.”

You were indeed already in bed, putting a book aside when he stands at the edge. You regard him carefully, clearly wondering about the purpose of his visit, before you sigh and move to throw the covers off yourself.

He holds up a hand. “Please.”

“I cannot see you in this light,” you reason.

“Then allow me.”

Aemond takes the box of matches from you, moving about the room to light the candles. The room glows brighter, allowing him to see the shift you had put on for bed. Your silver hair hangs about you like spun moonlight, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.

“To what do I owe this late-night visit, then?”

Aemond sets the matchbox down, before turning to you. “I apologize, again,” he says. “I was not certain you’d stay in the Red Keep for long.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“I regret I do not have the answer. You’ve never really explained the reasons behind your frequent absences from court.”

His direct tone surprises you, and he sees it in your face. But gone are the days where he stumbles over his words, cherry-picks through them to find the ones that would please you the most.

The boy you knew died the night his eye had been taken. And he wants to prove it to you.

“You think your little stunt this evening will not change anything?”

A smirk threatens to play on his lips. “Call it what you will, I was simply expressing how proud I am of my family.”

“Clearly, pride comes in the form of insulting your nephews’ parentage,” you shoot back.

“Is that why you’re contemplating leaving again? Leaving Father to succumb to his wounds alone over the truth?”

He’s never seen you this angry before; you were always the most patient sibling. “Did you come here to try and elicit some anger from me? Was your intention to alienate the only friend you have at court?”

His jaw clenches. “I am the Prince. I have no shortage of friends.”

You scoff. “With that tongue of yours, I am sure that’s true.”

“If you would like to bring my tongue into this matter, I can talk of more than just friends.”

“Your nocturnal activities mean little to me, Aemond,” you say, your tone getting fiercer and fiercer with every word. “If you mean to brag about your conquests, I suggest going to your brother instead of me. Now, if there is nothing else—”

“Why do you refuse to marry?”

Now that catches you off-guard. You look up at Aemond questioningly, but he stands his ground. He will not repeat it. He knows you have heard.

“I—I hardly think any of my decisions should matter—”

“But they do,” Aemond interrupts, moving forward to sit at the edge of your bed. “Had Father been anyone but who he is, you would have long been married by now, with children. Your husband and children would have been Rhaenyra’s, if you insisted on backing her claim. You know the benefits, and yet you refused. Why is that?”

You sigh, fidgeting with the covers uncomfortably. “I do not expect a man, even you, dear brother, to understand.”

“I’m smart. Try me.”

You give him a look so scathing, that if he were a lesser man, he would have backed down immediately. But the fire in your eyes sets his blood aflame, and he wants nothing more than to stoke them.

“My mother died attempting to give Father a male heir,” you say. “Laena gave her life for a son that did not live and wanted to ride Vhagar before she bled out. Helaena has to bear children for a philandering, drunken husband who shares her bed only when he’s out of whores to fuck. Rhaenyra dedicates her life to a realm who will not accept her because she has a mind of her own and not a cock between her legs. History will not give you women that are as miserable as the ones in our family.”

“And yet, you run from your duty to save your own skin.”

You elect not to respond to that.

Aemond sighs. “Qoren Martell would have cherished you. He said he’d wait forever for you.”

“If “forever” meant half a year, certainly,” you mumble. “I have no desire to marry, Aemond. No one expects me to be Queen, nor would my children ever come close to the throne. My only regret is that I never told my father the truth when he was still sound of mind.”

Aemond remains silent, letting your words sink in, while wrestling with his own. You lean forward, letting the covers fall to expose your skin. His eye widens at the sight, and he swallows thickly as you reach for his hand. As your fingers close around his, he has to wonder: were they always this small?

Against his will, his body turns towards you, and he shuffles up your bed so you don’t have to reach that far to touch him. With your other hand, you cup the side of his face, and he briefly flinches when you gingerly brush the pads of your fingers against his scar.

“May I?” you whisper.

He was never one to refuse you.

He keeps his one eye closed as the eyepatch leaves his skin, and is replaced by your curious fingers. He hears you suck in a breath.

He opens his eye to see you regarding the sapphire, your gift to him all those years ago, with a strange sort of reverence (despite the playful jab he had offered). He knows you’ve already seen his missing eye at its worst: swollen shut and stitches marring his face. Now, the scar has healed but not quite disappeared; Lucerys Velaryon had made his mark on Aemond forever.

He’s taken to putting jewels where his eye used to be so as not to scare the ladies at court, but he finds your sapphire fits the best, ironically. The parallels to his father's eye, gouged out by his illness and eaten through by maggots, is not lost on him, either.

"You haven't seen it since it happened," Aemond says. "It's healed. But it has left its mark. There are some things that just cannot be forgotten, as your sister is so often told otherwise."

"Our sister," you correct him. "And I know Rhaenyra regrets the incident, too."

"I don't need any of her regrets or apologies."

"Then why are you here?"

Aemond doesn't answer, and instead fixes you with the same chilling, weighted stare that he’s often been chided by his mother for having. Had you been a lesser being, you would have cracked under the pressure of his gaze.

But you are the blood of the dragon, fierce and proud and unafraid. No man, not even the one you share blood with, could ever make you back down. The look in your eyes ignites something in him; a feeling not unlike the one he gets every single time on dragonback. He steals a glimpse of the smooth expanse of your throat, then lower, and even lower…

Aemond pulls away sharply, leaving your hand drifting midair.

“The entire kingdom expects you to marry soon, rather than late,” he says, attempting to salvage what was left of his self-control.

You tilt your head. “The kingdom, your mother, or my sister?”

“I regret to say all of them do. But your fears will not be ignored.”

“Do you have a better idea, then?”

Aemond hesitates, testing the words on his tongue before letting them leave his lips. “You could marry me.”

Your reaction is what he expects it to be.

You withdraw your hand sharply and get out of bed, and Aemond gets to his feet, allowing you to increase your distance from him.

“Does…does no one listen to a word I say?” you ask in agitation. “I never thought to hear these words from you, brother, I—”

“This match has its merits,” Aemond says. “I will not insult your intelligence by discussing them one by one.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“…Father’s.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Father?” you ask incredulously. “Father was barely able to speak in complete sentences before today, and you expect me to believe he’s behind such a large arrangement?”

“Can you prove that he isn’t?”

All of a sudden, you’re standing inches away from him, a finger jabbed into his sternum and your eyes blazing with anger. “You are not getting away with this on a technicality,” you hiss. “Tell me the truth of it.”

“Is the thought of marrying me that repulsive to you?”

“Not if it’s born out of lies.” You clutch the collar of his shirt. “Why do you want to marry me, Aemond?”

He looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. He can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. Your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. Every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

He hates that, even with one eye, he does.

You await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

“To…to preserve the family line,” he answers.

And your face just falls.

You gently detach yourself from him, leaving him impossibly cold despite the roar of the fireplace nearby.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat. “I’m afraid I will have to refuse you. As I did Qoren. As I did everyone else.”

Your words echo around his mind, as if you’d shouted it to him in an empty corridor. Aemond does nothing but stare at you, and you hold his gaze with a practiced ease.

He doesn’t remember leaving your room, nor does he remember if you’d said anything to him as he did. But the next day, he breaks fast alone: his mother missing, Aegon not expected to wake until well in the afternoon, Helaena tending to the children, and Rhaenyra’s family having left for Dragonstone at first light.

When a messenger arrives to inform him that Silverwing had left the Dragonpit before dawn, he simply waves them away.

Aemond takes the death of his father in stride.

He operates exactly how logic demands him to, what he’s always been expected to do. He takes great pains to track Aegon down and forces him to face the reality that Aemond would have accepted without a fight. He keeps Jaehaerys and Jaehaera company as Helaena is prepared for her joint coronation with Aegon, sobbing the whole time her maids fit her into her dress, all the while fighting back thoughts of you donning the magnificent dress made for a future queen.

He gets through the coronation, and is momentarily forced into action when Meleys and Rhaenys disrupt the ceremony. But when the Red Queen and the Queen Who Never Was depart, he settles back into his work.

None of the things he was doing required emotion. He had no need for it. He’s gone for so long without an eye, he can live without a heart.

It’s why he can accept Borros Baratheon’s terms without batting an eye, why he can choose the first of his daughters that crosses his line of sight. He may grow to love her, he thinks, as he offers her a tight-lipped smile, and he may look at her someday without you lurking in the back of his mind.

But the gods that decreed he’d lose an eye, the gods who damned him to years of being dragon-less, are the very same gods that bring Lucerys Velaryon to Storm’s End.

“Go home, pup,” Borros spits, his voice booming like thunder all over the hall. “And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up and need to set against her foes.”

Lucerys keeps his head up, unwilling to show any semblance of weakness. Aemond wants to laugh; his entire body screams fear from head to toe. “I shall take your answer to the Queen,” he replies, his voice steadying at the last word. “My lord.”

Ever the consummate fighter. Had he not been born a bastard, Aemond might have actually liked him.

“Wait,” he calls out. “My Lord Strong.”

Lucerys pauses, taking a moment before looking back at Aemond. His eyes glint with a familiar fire that only eggs Aemond on.

“Did you really think,” he says. “That you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Lucerys scoffs. “I will not fight you,” he asserts. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge. No…” Aemond moves to remove his eyepatch, a burst of lightning illuminating the sapphire sitting where his eye used to be. “I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine.”

Lucerys pales. For a moment, Aemond wonders if he recognizes the jewel in his eye socket. He presumes not, and even with you now forever out of his grasp, he can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. He had something Lucerys Velaryon had not—your favor.

“One will serve,” he continues casually, retrieving the dagger he keeps on his person and tossing it onto the ground between them. “I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

What fear was in Lucerys’ face left at the sight of the blade, and was replaced by an expression of pure defiance. The adrenaline rushes through Aemond’s veins, practically begging Lucerys to make one wrong move. The looming threat of war, the despair that threatens to crush his mother, the look on Lucerys’ face that looks so much like—

“The Princess [Y/N] of House Targaryen!”

Lucerys nearly staggers in his attempt to turn to the door, and the lump in Aemond’s throat rises as you walk into the hall. You take one confused look at Lucerys, another at Aemond, then at Borros Baratheon.

“Am I to host the entirety of House Targaryen in my hall?” Borros shouts.

You raise an eyebrow. “I admit my surprise at seeing two more dragons than expected in your courtyard,” you say. “But, lest my lord forget, you invited me for the Lady Cassandra’s nameday tomorrow.”

Aemond frowns, and Lucerys looks equally confused. Was it possible that you hadn’t…

Borros gets to his feet. “I will not have this,” he snarls. “I will not be spoken to so casually by dragonspawn, and the least of them, least of all!”

Lucerys reaches for his sword, a look of great affront painted all over his face. Aemond turns his attention to Borros, ready to strike at any given second.

Silence falls over the group, interrupted only by the sounds of the storm raging outside.

You raise your eyebrows.

And Borros bursts into laughter.

Floris stifles a giggle from behind Aemond, as do all her other sisters next to Borros. Aemond and Lucerys share a quick look, all enmity momentarily forgotten in the confusion.

“You have not changed at all, Princess,” Borros continues to laugh heartily, as he settles back into his throne. “My father always told me you would have made a better Baratheon than a Targaryen.”

“And as I’ve told your father, I’d leap off one of your cliffs first before I’d give up the life of a dragonrider,” you say, entering the hall and making your way into its center as if it had been your home all this time.

And it’s then that Aemond remembers you’d been hosted at Storm’s End in your youth, and later named godmother to one of Borros’ daughters.

“But I must admit my confusion, Princess,” Borros says, as soon as he’s finished wiping the tears from his eyes. “I hardly think this is the time for celebrating.”

“I fly all the way back from Volantis to be told it isn’t the time for celebrating,” you repeat dryly.

Borros looks at Lucerys, to Aemond, then back to you. You mimic the action, and when your eyes settle on Aemond, it takes a while for you to get it.

Your lips part in shock, and he watches as your eyes slowly widen.

“I’m…I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Princess,” Borros says, his voice sounding the gentlest Aemond has ever heard all day despite the gruffness in his tone. “You know how highly my father and I held the late King in regard. If there is anything we might do…”

“You are too kind, my lord.” You clear your throat. “You are right, of course, this is not the time for celebrations. I will see the Lady Cassandra on the morrow, but first…” You walk over to Lucerys and wrap an arm around him. “I believe Prince Lucerys’ business here is finished. I ask your leave to escort him back to Dragonstone.”

“Granted,” Borros replies. “Safe travels, my friend.”

Aemond seethes as the guards follow suit, and as you press your lips to Lucerys’ ear as you turn him around. “If you leave,” he near-growls. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

Your head whips around, and you meet his gaze with a fury he’s never known you to hold. “Not here,” you snarl.

Wisely, Aemond holds his ground.

You take one last glance at the Baratheons, before tightening your grip on Lucerys and leading him out of the hall.

When the door shuts behind you, Aemond retrieves his knife, just as he hears one of the Baratheon girls scoff. He follows the sound to the lady standing closest to Borros, who had on an expression of pure contempt.

“Princess or not, she had the gall to speak to a Prince like that,” she says. “No wonder she’s not yet married. What man would take her?”

“Maris, hold your tongue,” Floris warns.

Maris ignores her sister, looking at Aemond straight in the eye. “Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” she asks, voice sweet as honey despite the venom in her words. “I am so glad you chose my sister. I want a husband with all his parts.”

Aemond’s mouth twists in anger. “Lord Borros,” he nearly spits through his teeth. “I ask your leave to depart, as well.”

Borros harrumphed in response. “It is for me to tell you how to act whilst not under my roof.”

Aemond turns on his heels, barely sparing his betrothed a glance before disappearing out the door.

Despite the relentless rain, all Aemond’s senses were heightened as if he were the beast he rides, focused solely on the hunt. He wants to see that look on Lucerys’ face again—that look of pure fear. Pure helplessness. He wants to see all those years’ worth of misery weigh on his entire being, threatening to crush Lucerys with every second that passes.

The laugh that leaves him is one of pure glee as Lucerys and his dragon just barely dodge Vhagar, and he only urges her after them. He shouts a command, and the great she-dragon opens her jaws, closing with a sickening snap that causes Lucerys to cry out in fear.

The dragon takes Lucerys even lower, and to Aemond’s great dismay, they disappear between two cliffs. He takes Vhagar’s reins and heaves; she follows suit, albeit with great difficulty.

The fog clouds his already-compromised vision, and the only things he sees above the gorge are the tips of dragon wings as it beats up and down. “You owe a debt!” Aemond bellows, the frustration of being denied his vengeance lining every single one of his words. “Boy!”

Vhagar notices it before he does, and moves her head to the left. He barely sees it in the darkness of the storm, but there was an unmistakable flash of white that wasn’t a streak of lightning. He pulls to the left, cursing. Finally took advantage of your handiwork, Lucerys? he thinks bitterly. Flying in my blindspot…who would have thought…

Perhaps the storm had grown fiercer, or the fog had gotten thicker, but Aemond only now gets glimpses of Lucerys’ dragon, unlike the direct confrontation that had occurred just earlier. It was unlikely that it had gotten used to Vhagar’s flight pattern so easily, given its age and how inexperienced Lucerys clearly was…

“There!” he shouts, and Vhagar follows without further instruction. The new direction is one that turns the wind against them, and Aemond wonders how such a young dragon fares in such terrible conditions. But Lucerys and his dragon were now up ahead, growing bigger as Vhagar closes the gap in mere moments…he could have sworn that the dragon was a little brighter than that…

A hard gust of wind nearly blows him back in his saddle; blinking the tears out of his eye, he dodges the cloak that Lucerys had previously donned as it flies past.

Revealing a taller figure in the saddle, sporting bright silver hair…

You sense the shift in Vhagar’s disposition almost immediately.

The roar she lets out is enough to shake the entirety of Storm’s End to its very core, and Silverwing shakes her head, clearly agitated. You glance over your shoulder to see Vhagar being pulled back, and you know you have run out of time.

You could only hope that you had bought enough to allow Lucerys and Arrax to escape.

“Listen carefully, Luke,” you shout over the rain, as both you and your nephew make your way to your dragons. Lightning flashes, and you look to the east; your stomach drops when Vhagar is nowhere to be found. “Aemond will try to follow you as you leave.”

You take Lucerys’ face in your hands. “You must find him and Vhagar first. Get them to chase you, and take them to the gorge just a few miles away from here.”

“How will I—”

“It isn’t hard to miss. Fly Arrax through that gorge, go as low as you can. I will meet you there.”

“But you—”

“After that, go as high as you can and go with the wind so you can go faster.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks fearfully. “Vhagar is the largest dragon in the world, and—and Aemond’s angry, and—”

You shush him, brushing his curls out of his face as you have so many times in his youth. “Vhagar is also the oldest dragon in the world,” you remind him. “And Silverwing and Arrax will look nearly identical in this storm. I will try to stay in Aemond’s blind spot, and trust that his dragon will not know the difference.”

The tears start to well in Lucerys’ eyes. “This is my fault,” he begins to cry.

“It is not, sweet boy.” You pull him into an embrace, and Lucerys grips onto your shoulders almost painfully. When Arrax shrieks, and Silverwing hisses at the sky, you pry yourself out of Lucerys’ grasp, tilting his head up.

“I may still reason with Aemond,” you say. “But at least one of us must make it back to Rhaenyra, to tell her what has happened here. I intend it to be you.”

“But—”

“Be brave, Lucerys,” you tell him, and in High Valyrian, you command just as much as you soothe.

Your mother had told you to be brave, too, just days before she’d died on the birthing bed.

Was that the same fate that awaits you in the jaws of a dragon? You suppose that, one way or another, you would leave this world in the same manner.

You find a rocky beach, and you will Silverwing towards it. The pebbles crunch in a strange sort of symphony under her feet, as it does under yours when you dismount. The waves pummel the shore just inches away from where you stand, waiting for the inevitable.

You press your forehead against Silverwing’s head, feeling the she-dragon purr at the contact. No doubt she was feeling the same things you were feeling, after so many years of flying together, but you want to let her know how much she means to you.

A terrifying growl shakes the beach, and Silverwing hisses as Vhagar appears just above you. You hold onto her as the dragon hits the ground, her sheer size causing nearly half of her body to be submerged in the ocean.

You watch as her rider dismounts, his blade glinting in the darkness as he makes his way over to you. When you move to meet him halfway, Silverwing blocks your path, wailing. You feel a surge of affection for your dragon wash over you.

“Be calm,” you instruct her. “Obey.”

Silverwing keens in protest, but obliges, withdrawing reluctantly, only to roar in contempt when Aemond points his blade towards your neck.

Amidst the heavy rain and thick fog, Aemond Targaryen stands tall and proud, his missing eye doing little to discredit the fact that he now looks every inch a god. You could find no trace of the boy you’d known all those years ago, the one who’d followed you everywhere in the Red Keep, the only one of your half-siblings who’d managed to maintain a solid correspondence with you when you were away.

But perhaps he is still in there, somewhere hidden behind the clear wrath in his eye.

“None can stand between a dragon and its prey,” you begin. “A Conqueror’s dragon and her blood, even less.”

“And yet here you stand,” Aemond spits.

“And yet here I stand,” you repeat calmly.

Aemond studies you carefully. You keep your gaze trained on him, completely ignoring the blade he holds to your throat.

“You know the truth of Rhaenyra’s sons,” he hisses. “You’re no fool, yet you choose not to see it. Would you let the pups of House Strong sit on our father’s throne, and his grandfather before him?”

“They have just as much Targaryen blood as you do.”

“Do not—” He presses the tip of his sword directly against your skin, and Silverwing growls in warning. “Do not dare question my heritage.”

“I would never,” you say quietly. “But surely you see why I cannot let you do this.”

“Would you lay down your life for your traitor kin?”

“They are all I have left.” Your voice quivers dangerously. “You may deny their parentage all you like, but you cannot deny that they are my blood still.”

“I am your blood!” You hadn’t realized that Aemond had dropped his blade in favor of closing the distance between the two of you, looming over you like a malevolent shadow in the pouring rain. “‘Tis I who know you better than anyone else; I, who wrote back to you and sat every night by the windows of the Red Keep waiting for you to return; ‘tis I who study history and philosophy and politics to elevate myself to your level.”

Thunder rumbles overhead, and you blink the rain out of your eyes as you continue to stare up at Aemond. You think you catch a glimpse of the child he once was when he holds your gaze so defiantly, but he scoffs, and turns away from you.

“Lord Borros was right,” he spits. “I stand to destroy myself, risk my brother’s cause, worry my mother senseless, and for what? The whims of the last in line to the throne? A mere afterthought, forever in the shadow of her sister? A spoiled bitch who flees with her tail between her legs at the very thought of duty?”

You shake your head, and despite the gravity of the situation, you have to smile. The rocks crunch beneath your feet as you move towards him this time. When your hand presses against the middle of his shoulders, just opposite of his heart, you feel him jolt.

“Words hurt less to those who have heard the same all their lives,” you tell him gently. “But if it comforts you to lash out at me, I will not stop you. I daresay by the time you end, Luke will have already returned to Dragonstone.”

Aemond growls as he turns and grabs you by your arms. Silverwing hisses and snaps, but backs down when Vhagar moves forward.

“Stop acting as if I was a child,” he demands. “I can challenge the greatest knight of the Seven Kingdoms and ride the largest dragon our world has ever known. I am the closest in line to the Throne. The Aemond you knew died the night Lucerys Strong took my eye, and if you mourn him, you will step aside.”

“I cannot,” you whisper, but you might as well have screamed it in his ear. “I told you on Driftmark, didn’t I? You are still the Aemond I know. The Aemond who fought during my nameday tourney all those years ago, giving it his all despite being out of the lists earlier on. You believed that it was Alicent that put you in the lower lists, did you not?”

Aemond stares at you, clearly not following.

“You thought and acted exactly as I’d hoped. I’m sorry you were embarrassed because of it. But…if you would forgive my selfishness…I wanted you by my side in the King’s box, not injuring yourself on the jousting field for my favor. I would have always given you my favor, no matter how many you’d win against.”

You reach up to brush away the hair sticking against his face in the cold rain. “Because it’s you,” you say, running a thumb down the strap of his eyepatch before gently lifting it up. “You’re my Aemond.”

The sapphire that once sat in the brooch you gave him glints in what little light the storm permits to shine. No doubt that to many, it only serves to further unnerve those who already shift uncomfortably in his presence, but to you, it rivals the stars you’d stared at, thousands of leagues away from home, quietly wondering if Aemond was looking at them too.

The expression on his face is a mixture of surprise, admiration, and pain all into one. You know his true feelings; he’d made it known the night he asked for your hand. You would have given it to him gladly, freely, had he been honest about his reasons. A loveless marriage was the last thing you wanted for yourself in this lifetime, the very reason you’d run away from home all those years ago, causing your own father grief; you weren’t about to have it start with a blatant lie.

You think he understands everything now, by the way his shoulders slump and how Vhagar nearly purrs in content. It’s only confirmed when he reaches for your hand, still warm despite the biting cold.

“You’re not playing fair,” Aemond murmurs. “You would make me a kinslayer…every word you speak will damn me for all eternity, and yet…”

He shakes his head. “You know why I’ve come here. Baratheon’s banners for a marriage pact. You’ve scorned me once before. What makes you think I could ever give in to you now?”

“I dare not force you to choose,” you respond. “But know that I will not move from this place; how you will deny me, I leave it to you.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches. “How kind of you to make things simple for me.”

He backs away, and you close your eyes, waiting for the frigid storm to be drowned out by a shower of dragonflame. You think of Lucerys, and how you hope Arrax was able to navigate the storm all the way back to Dragonstone. You think of Rhaenyra, too, your sole full-blood sister, and the tears that you’d shared together in the Sept on your namedays. Your chest grows heavy with grief at the thought of Viserys, and how he’d begged you with his rattling breath to stay, only for you to leave the very night he’d passed.

You should think about what your death would mean; the pain that would cause your kin, the war that was bound to follow. But your last thought, ironically, might ultimately be of the man who would bring about your demise.

Seconds pass. Silverwing falls silent.

And you feel Aemond’s lips on yours.