#► I am the fire. But the fire is what consumes me. || musing. ◄

[luvwich]

✒️ writer interview tag

tagged by @dustdeepsea — tysm, this was great fun! read their answers here and mine, if you like, beneath the cut ✨

When did you start writing?

early 2023 was my first foray into writing actual fiction. prior to that i'd done an embarrassing amount of roleplaying many years ago, which i shall speak on no further, but it did form the basis for a lot of my writing now!

once upon a time, i seriously entertained the idea of an MFA in screenwriting, but went on to pursue something even stupider for grad school 👍

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

honestly everything i enjoy reading gets smuggled into my writing in some form or another!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

there are like 26 different writers where i wish to take bits and pieces of their style, send it all into a meat grinder, and press the gunk into sausage casings to be dipped in batter and deep fried. ideally i want my writing to hit like wagyu beef that's been corrupted into a county fair corn dog. but no i'm not sure i've ever been compared to another writer! that would fuck my shit up truly (in a good way)

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

typically curled up on my couch, because the ergonomic status of my home office setup is terrible — potentially lethal. sometimes i stay late at my not-home office, hidden away in a dark conference room, but that's usually only if i'm on a self-imposed deadline (i.e. i've started posting a WIP)

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

the spark that gets me to write is usually some kind of Dynamic that i want to explore so i do a lot of noodling upon situations and then figuring out how to get there. and by situations i mean smut

also, writing bits of dialogue, even if i don't know the context yet. it gets a character's voice and mannerisms in my head, and gives me a little grain to start building on

sadly, going on a hike and/or reading a really good book are both very effective and by far the most time consuming

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

longing, isolation, identity, the difference between the person you'd like to be and the person you are, strained/dysfunctional family relationships, wrong person right time, hope, blowjobs, self-deception, california, fucking your way through it, guilt, social class, mommy issues, mono no aware, oral fingering, etc; they don't surprise me anymore but the first time i finished a long fic and took a step back i was like "ohh haha Damn"

What is your reason for writing?

i am horny, sad n silly

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

all forms of feedback are so touching! i think much of what i write is pretty niche, so simply knowing someone has read my stuff gets me pumped. a big essay of a comment is like receiving a love letter, and comments that are just an emoji are like someone's tucked a little note in my lunchbox, and both are incredibly nourishing to me. as far as motivation, though, anything that implies someone is looking forward to reading more is the surest way to light a fire under my people-pleasing ass

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

affable wretch, trickster, wine aunt

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

i'm not sure any one thing stands out: i believe i'm pretty good in a few areas (dialogue, sensory detail, characterization) and notably lacking in others (action, "plot," pacing, not getting high on my own supply)… okay i'll stop being an asshole though and say my strength is in "delivering on a mood," if that is a thing

How do you feel about your own writing?

generally good. for one, i'm proud of myself for ever finishing and posting anything, because following through on shit isn't something i'm renown for. i tend to hate everything i write after i've gotten some distance from it, but i think that's normal? right? i'm new at it and it's all for fun so i try to be gracious with myself, with mixed success, because beneath my goofy exterior i do take everything too seriously

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

mostly for myself; i do abstractly ask "would someone who isn't me enjoy this?" and never quite know the answer. like most humans i crave external validation and connection, but like a cactus i can survive on just a lil rainfall 🌵

tagging w/no pressure (but with my best barbara walters impression) @corpocyborg @ghostoffuturespast @merge-conflict @streetkid-named-desire @writing-for-soup

[ficsilike-reblogged]

As High As Honour - III

Summary: You never expected Aemond Targaryen. Pairing: Soft Dark!Aemond Targaryen/F!Reader (No use of Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Attempted assault (not by Aemond) Emphasis on the soft and the dark! Highly dubious consent! Fem-receiving oral, unprotected p-i-v sex, age-gap, canon typical violence, babies Word Count: 26.5k (is anyone surprised?)

Book Three: The Dragon and The Lark

You scarcely remembered shoving Aemond’s hands off of you before stumbling toward your dragon. The mournful cry he let out had fresh tears stinging your eyes as you climbed atop his back. You flew back to your camp in a haze—the one thing you do remember is that Vhagar was nowhere in sight. It could be hypothesized that Vhagar had done her rider’s bidding and then flown back to the Red Keep, but surely you would have seen her massive form in the skies, even from a distance.

You did not want to believe that Aemond would do this. But what other option did you have? Other than a dragon, nothing else would be able to burn a fortress like Harrenhal. You would never forget the heat of those flames. Never forget how green…

“Not all green is true.”

What had Helaena meant?

You turned that question over and over in your mind as you went through the motions of informing the Crown of what had happened and having your traveling party turn around to return to the Vale. Their efforts wasted. In a single night, the future you thought you could have was ashes.

Your temporary apartments in the Red Keep were comfortable, as usual, but you could not shake the feeling that something else was on the horizon, waiting for you.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had been kind to you, offering their company in your sullen silences as you tried to make sense of it all. You did not tell them of what Helaena had said and you refused to ask the younger princess about it; you would not ruin the first few moons of her marriage with your questioning.

It seemed that your one avenue was Aemond. Despite knowing that he could very well be lying to you, what other choice did you have? You found him in the shadows of the Red Keep’s library, long fingers curled around the leather spine of a book.

“You have not gone to my father with your suspicions,” he mused quietly before setting it aside. The prince waved a hand at the chair opposite him but you did not move to take it. His tilted lips slowly slid into a sharp smirk when he realized you would not sit.

“You and I both know that taking anything to your father is a waste of time.” You sucked in a breath, trying to steady your thundering heart. This was someone you had trusted. Someone you had a fondness for. You wanted to believe him but you could not deny how damning it looked. “Make me believe that you did not do this, Aemond. Tell me what you know. Why you were there.”

Aemond hummed as you looked at you, eye dragging from the toes of your boots to your silver hair and you had to stop the shiver you felt trying to work its way down your spine. But it was visceral and consuming. “You seem convinced of my guilt.”

“I am giving you the opportunity to try to sway me. I do not want to believe that you did this. Do you not understand? The boy I knew-”

In a flash, Aemond was standing, pushing toward you with quiet but purposeful steps. “I am not a boy any longer, my lady.” The heat of him once again bled through your gown and your next breath stalled in your lungs. Everything about him burned. Burned like dragon fire. But you could not and would not voice that to him. It would only give him hope where you know there could be none. “You were a boy when I told you I’d race you through the skies. You were a boy when you called me a witch. A boy when-”

“Not anymore. Would you have me do to prove myself to you? What task would you set for me to prove to you that I am a man?”

“Tell me what you know, Aemond.”

He was quiet for another stretched moment before his chin tilted up. The move let more sunlight bloom behind him, framing in light but casting the sharp, beautiful angles of his face in dark shadow. He looked like some sort of dark god, craving vengeance.

Or something else. Something, someone you would not name.

“I did go to Harrenhal with the intent of seeing you. But I arrived on horseback. Ser Criston can confirm that as we traveled together. Vhagar remained in the valley outside the city. I was welcomed into Harrenhal’s storied halls by Lord Larys.”

Larys had been the only Strong to survive the fire. Everyone else had perished, having gathered together to celebrate your betrothal to Harwin. He had not accompanied you to the Red Keep but arrived later and was welcomed with softly spoken condolences and offered his father’s spot on the Small Council.

“He had invited me. It seemed I was not the only one who believed you were throwing your life away by tying yourself to an oaf like Ser Harwin Strong.”

You recoiled as if he had struck you. “Harwin was kind to me.”

“You deserve more than kindness.” The smoke of his voice had your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You did not understand why he had such an effect on you. “And I plan on giving everything to you.”

“Aemond.”

He hummed again as if he were amused. “I left the castle after dinner, wanting to see the godswood. I noticed the fire had started when I started to walk back. There was nothing I could do. Nothing you could do.”

You shook your head. That was too easy. “The fire was green. Only Vhagar and my dragon breathe green fire. Are you suggesting I set Harrenhal ablaze?”

“Of course not. You have a soft heart.”

A scoff tore itself out of your throat. A soft heart. You did not have a soft heart. “Tell me, then, what it is I saw.”

The prince moved closer and you could once again smell him, dragon, mint, lavender, and leather. Intoxicating and-

Stop it. Stop it.

“I do not know what it was, my lady. But I intend to find out.”

Before you could tell him that answer was not adequate, he had grasped your hand and pressed a searing kiss to your fingers. And then he was walking away, leaving you only with the scent of him to burn your throat.

But Aemond, it seemed, was simply waiting for you to confront him before truly revealing his plan. On the eve before you were set to return to the Vale without any sort of answer, your presence was demanded in the Great Hall. What greeted you was nearly the whole of the court waiting in anticipation and Larys Strong in chains.

Your ears rang as he was accused of killing his family and destroying his ancestral seat. And it was Aemond who had brought forth the accusation.

“And how do you plead, Lord Strong?” Rhaenys asked.

Larys looked at Aemond for just a moment before blandly looking back at Rhaenys and Viserys, who sat slouched on the Iron Throne. Aemond stood at the edge of the royal dias, hands folded neatly over the pommel of his sword. He said nothing and the silence stretched throughout the Great Hall.

And that, it seemed, was damning enough.

“I, King Viserys Targaryen,” Viserys started, his voice shaking and wet from his affliction, “first of my name, sentence you to die for your crimes of murder and kinslaying.”

Larys turned and his eyes landed on you, almost as if he were expecting to see you. His gaze did not move from you, he did not blink, even as he was forced to his knees and Ser Harrold raised his sword. And you could not look away either, and then-

“I would prefer if Prince Aemond took my head, if it is all the same.”

The crowd held its breath as Ser Harrold turned to look at his king and the prince. But, like Larys’ refusal to speak out against the accusations, Aemond said nothing but he drew his sword from its sheath at his waist and in a handful of steps, stood in front of Larys. And still your gaze did not move. Larys was still looking at you and Aemond moved his head just enough to follow the other man’s line of sight…and saw you.

Larys’ head was cut from his neck and fell to the floor with a wet thud. His body fell, too, and crimson started to puddle immediately across the light stone. And that was the end of House Strong. A small splash of blood streaked across the high arc of Aemond’s cheek but he did not brush it away, instead focusing on cleaning his blade before walking away, his stride long and powerful.

As the crowd’s murmurs started to reach a crescendo, you blindly walked back to your apartments and tried to wrangle the thoughts coursing through you. Larys had killed Harwin. Larys had killed him and the entirety of his family…

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt with the announcement of Aemond’s presence in your rooms. You turned to see him striding him, skirting around the serving girl who had let him in.

“It is done, my lady.”

“It is.” The words sounded muffled in your ears. But it was done. Silence stretched between you, tight and uncomfortable, but you could not find the words to break it. What could you say? What else could be done? “What did you say to him to have him reveal such atrocities?” Was all you could ask.

Aemond hummed and his chin tilted up, and it reminded you of a cat who had just devoured a fat canary. “I simply appealed to him as a fellow second son.”

The simple sentence felt like you had plunged into an icy lake. You remembered how they spoke at Jacaerys and Helaena’s wedding and one thought jumped to another to another before... “It was you who gave him the idea.”

“Careful, my lady,” Aemond said softly but you could hear the iron beneath it. “Be wary of your accusations.”

“Accusations?” You hissed. “You have already confessed to appealing to him as a fellow second son. What other conclusion would you have me make? What other option have you given me?”

“It was not I who killed him. And it was not my intent to have him burnt to ash. Harwin deserved a cleaner death than that.”

“Stop it! Do not be so cruel!”

Aemond moved closer. “But he was always going to die, my lady. He claimed what was mine.” He reached out and gently set his hand against your cheek; a soft touch in contrast to his cold words. “But now you can rest knowing that it was not my hand that struck him down.” His thumb traced the curve of your cheek and he leaned in just far enough to brush his lips against your temple. You should have pulled away. Should have told him, again, that his affections were misplaced and unwanted. But you were rooted to the spot and your skin burned where he had kissed it.

The next breath rattled out of you and you felt Aemond’s lips pull into a smile against your skin. “Larys could have taken the Black.” You weren’t even sure why you were still speaking or why you even would suggest Larys still draw breath with his crimes.

Aemond pulled back just enough to look at you. He did not move far, his chest still brushed yours with each of his steady breaths. “I would not have doggedly pursued him if he had not meant to kill me as well. He had wanted to leave you no option but himself.” The prince paused and then his hands curled around your arms. “Nothing and no one will keep you from me, my lady.”

Even as you shook your head, you burned. “You will find another. Someone closer to your age-”

His grip tightened and then moved, anchoring at the base of your skull and giving you no room to wrench yourself free. “There is no one who could compare to you, your light, your fire. I have deprived myself of you and your attentions and I shall suffer no longer.” Aemond pulled in a slow breath. Calm and measured. “I will give you time to mourn. I am a man of honor and I know you felt something for Harwin, no matter how unworthy he was of your heart.” He dragged his lips down your temple to press another whisper of a kiss against the highest part of your cheek. “But I’ll not wait forever. My patience grows thin.” And then he was gone, leaving you with the echo of his scent and the burn of his touch.

If you thought that Larys’ execution was the end of it, you found yourself sorely mistaken. Aemond was not finished. The green fire that had destroyed Harrenhal had been a mystery you thought would never be solved, thinking that perhaps there was something in Harrenhal’s stone that turned the flames green. Larys was gone, that was what mattered, wasn’t it?

Not to Aemond. Rhaenyra summoned you into the Small Council chamber on the morning you were set to leave again. Aemond sat beside her as she sat next to her father who looked like he had been roused from a deep sleep. The golden mask Viserys had taken to wearing to hide the rot was loose around his head. But the light in his purple eyes was more present than it had been in years—that gave you pause, more than the tight line of Rhaenyra’s mouth. Rhaenys almost looked relieved and the rest of the royal family had also joined you alongside the Small Council. Helaena took her place beside you and wrapped a hand around the meat of your arm, as if she needed grounding for what was to come.

“Tell them, Aemond. Tell us all what you have found.”

Aemond nodded once and his lilac eye dragged across the crowd for a moment and then settled on you. He explained the Alchemists’ Guild had created something called Wildfire. A synthetic dragonfire—and wild, as the name denoted. The order to create it had come directly from the Citadel itself.

Larys had procured a handful of jars for himself and had stashed them within Harrenhal, waiting for the correct time, as he had put it. Those jars had been enough to destroy the largest of the towers of the storied fortress and kill dozens.

Larys killed them with fire. Killed his father and brother for their titles and inheritance…and for you. (His confession of that last point came to you by the shaking hand of a servant girl who had been told to wait to deliver it to you “at the right time.” She had found you the night after his execution, slipping through the passageways you had once traversed yourself as a girl in the Red Keep. The missive had been brief but would haunt you for the rest of your days. If you had been mine, my brother would still live. There had been other accusations, too, stating that you had intoxicated him the moment your eyes met his when you first were introduced at the Eyrie. It had been a cruel final act, leaving you under the crushing weight of guilt you had to suffer with alone.)

Aemond enlisted the one-time paramour of Daemon, a woman named Mysaria, who had a network of “spiders” throughout the city. When digging further, Mysaria’s spiders found that the plot was truly beyond what anyone could have been expecting. Since the Conquest, a certain powerful subset of the Conclave had been hellbent on destroying the dragons and any trace of magic left in Westeros. They had studies of how the dragons’ growth stunted since the creation of the Dragonpit. There were collected tomes upon tomes of how to kill dragons within their eggs.

The suspicions you had about something being wrong with the dragons had proven true. Did you feel any pride or righteousness about being right? Of course not. You would have preferred to be wrong—but the truth was out now.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of your dragon and how there was a centuries’ long plot to destroy him and all others like him. He was yours. Your freedom made tangible. How could you ever think to live without him? How could anyone think to take him from you?

When you were finally able to leave the Red Keep, you pressed yourself along your dragon’s spine, wanting to feel as close as you could to him. Each flap of his massive wings echoed in your chest. And he seemed to feel your want for closeness and took a few extra turns around the Eyrie before landing, keeping you atop his back for a little longer.

It was a balm to be back in the Vale. Dealing with your duties was a welcome distraction from the ache in your chest. Harwin was gone but your dragon was safe. Perhaps that was all you could have. A dragon of your own and the diadem on your head.

True to form, Viserys was slow to act upon the information Aemond had presented. He feared gaining House Hightower’s ire by demanding the maesters and archmaesters still involved in the plot be remanded to the Crown’s custody. Daemon and Aemond held no such qualms and landed Caraxes and Vhagar atop the Seneschal’s Court in the Citadel and demanded all who were involved to be handed over.

From what you had gleaned from the whispers in the Vale, there had been a short-lived stand off before Lord Ormund Hightower faced threats of a revolt of his vassals and also pressed the Citadel to yield to the princes’ demands. Your courtiers sometimes whispered of how Aemond had ordered the maesters who had taken part of the conspiracy to be fed to Vhagar and the wildfire caches to be destroyed in the maw of the Dragonmont on Dragonstone. When that was finished, Aemond and Rhaenys destroyed the Dragonpit atop Meleys and Vhagar when he returned. The dragons would be cared for on the outskirts of the city, without chains and dark roosts.

“He is a true Targaryen,” Lady Waxley said. You weren’t entirely sure if you liked the breathy tone she used but you quickly dismissed that thought. Aemond was not yours to covet.

“And I hear he is still unattached,” another woman added. “Unusual for a prince—even a second son, no?”

Aemond was not just a second son. He was his family protector. He rode the largest dragon in the world. He was studious and a master swordsman and-

You bit your tongue so hard it bled.

Moons waxed and waned, and you thought that you had rid yourself of Aemond and his attentions. And you worked to set him out of your mind as well. It was strange, how often you thought of him. He was haunting you.

And you knew that was what he wanted.

But you knew this wayward infatuation he thought he had for you would fade. He would marry a young highborn lady and you would find a suitable heir from one of your distant cousins. The events of these past moons would be…relegated to the dark of your memory. In time. Even if the ghost of his kisses still followed you in your dreams. The thought of telling Alicent of his affections briefly crossed your mind, but decided against it, knowing it would only embarrass you and Alicent. And with the burn of his touch came the realization that you would be alone. It had been a girlish, childish hope that you would find a husband and have a family of your own. You had put your obligations to the Vale above your own wants. It had been the honorable thing to do. And then Harwin had given you hope. He held you gently and kissed you passionately. He had wanted a family, too. One with you despite your differences. The tears you shed for Harwin were, selfishly, also for the life you would not get to live. A handful of new suits were brought before you after returning to the Vale and you rejected them outright after they made it seem like they were granting you a boon by even considering you as a potential bride. You could and would rule the Vale without a husband and a few were even younger than Aemond. Harwin had been the ideal choice: older than you, mostly understanding of your position, and in possession of a kind heart and handsome face. And now he was gone. So be it. As you looked over the subpar qualifications and lives of your Gulltown cousins to pick a potential heir, Ser Oswin came into your solar, holding a missive and his cheeks sunken with shock: Viserys was dead.

While you led a coalition of the highborn of the Vale down to the Red Keep, your dragon circled restlessly overhead. You would have preferred to fly with him, but you knew that leading the Vale and publicly showing your support for Rhaenyra as heir was more important than your comfort. The Houses of the Vale may not follow you blindly, but they did trust your judgment. And you were going to see Rhaenyra crowned without question.

When you arrived, the city was draped in black and mostly somber, but you did hear a few whispers about the impending coronation. You had your handmaidens distribute food on your way in, stating it was a gift from Queen Rhaenyra. It was a small way you could help sway favor. Things were changing—you just hoped it would be for the better. And as your wheelhouse continued on, you were pleasantly surprised to realize the city did not hold as putrid of a scent as it had previously. There were fresh water fountains tucked between buildings and it looked like the streets had been recently cleared. Daeron’s plans seemed to be working marvelously to better the city for everyone.

Your dragon settled in the deserted tourney grounds and you made sure some of your younger lords and ladies were comfortable in their apartments before you set off to find Alicent and Rhaenyra. You found them in Rhaenyra’s solar, quiet and holding each other’s hands. You greeted them with a curtsey followed by tight hugs. “Tell me what you need,” you whispered.

Rhaenyra shook her head. Salt from dried tears had left streaks down her cheeks. “His suffering has ended.”

Alicent brushed a lock of Rhaenyra’s silver hair away from her cheek and kissed her temple gently. She also had tears in her eyes, making the brown of her gaze all the more vibrant. “And he went into the Seven Heavens knowing you would carry on his legacy faithfully.”

Rhaenyra nodded before sighing. “He has been ill for so long, but I still feel as if he was taken from me too soon. What if I still have more to learn? More for him to teach me?”

Truthfully, you thought of telling her of how she had been ruling in his stead for years with Rhaenys and Alicent as her guides and a strong Small Council at her back. But she was still delicate and she loved her father, no matter his faults. “He was a peaceful king. And I have no doubt you will be much the same. You have a strong council, a respected and loyal Hand, and you have us,” you said, curling your hands around one of hers. “We are here for you, Rhaenyra.” You turned to Alicent and saw the ache in her eyes as well. No matter how unfair her marriage had been, Alicent was still a dutiful wife. “And I am here for you as well, please never forget that.”

After the prayers and services for Viserys were finished, Alicent was the one who crowned Rhaenyra, setting Jaehaerys’ crown on her brow and proclaiming her Queen for the Seven Kingdoms to behold. The crowd, full of highborn and smallfolk alike, cheered and chanted her name like a benediction. Jacaerys was publicly named as her heir as Helaena stood at his side. You were pleased to have been given a seat in the first row of revealers and you readily curtsied with the rest of the crowd as Rhaenyra held out her arms, like she was greeting all of them, welcoming them all into her arms. Daemon chuckled at his place beside Lucerys—his lady wife and daughter were seated beside you and were likely to be busy with courtly life as they had been away from Westeros for some time.

As the crowd continued to cheer, you caught Aemond’s eye as he stood behind Rhaenyra on the raised dias. His sword was sheathed at his side and in his fine leather and linen clothes, he looked every inch the prince of a dark fairytale of Old Valyria. His silver hair was a curtain of silver silk and his lilac eye nearly sparkled in the sunlight of the Great Hall. Yes, a dark prince indeed. And you steadfastly ignored how a flock of hummingbirds seemed to have taken up residence in your stomach when you looked at him.

You danced with Lord Blackwood’s nephew, Davos, at the festivities that night, Daemon, and then also took a turn with Aegon’s Lady Farwynd. She was a riot of spring colors and bright smiles; you understood why Aegon was so taken with her. Hopefully their betrothal would be announced soon. But as you looked at Jace and Helaena, Aegon and his lady, and Rhaenyra and Alicent, any joy you might have felt soured in your chest. Of course, you were thankful that Rhaenyra seemed to be at least mostly welcomed by her subjects, but you were alone. And you had no one to celebrate with at your side. But you shoved that self-pitying part down until you could hardly feel it. You were the Lady of the Eyrie. You had so much to be thankful for. That was what mattered.

“That’s her,” someone whispered as you nibbled on some roasted boar and honeyed carrots at one of the tables. “Ser Harwin’s betrothed.”

“Well, certainly not anymore.”

Someone tittered a laugh and your heart twisted.

“A shame, is it not? And she was lucky to-”

You stood from your chair and walked away, unable to listen any more nor caring if they saw you. Yes, you had been lucky. And that luck ran out. But you would still be an honorable Lady of the Eyrie. That would be your legacy. Something wet splashed against your neck and it took you a moment to realize you were crying. Hot, fat tears were trickling down your face and you hastily wiped them away as you ducked behind a pillar, hoping no one saw your pitiful display. Now was not the time for your heart to crack open.

Seven Hells, these last handful of moons had been confusing and volatile. You had mourned Harwin and the future you had hoped for. Larys had been dealt with. A plot to destroy the dragons had been foiled. Viserys was dead. Rhaenyra was Queen. And you would support her and quash any murmurs you heard of dissent. You had to be…content with that, with what the gods have given you.

“What has you so forlorn?” You turned to look at Helaena as she rounded the pillar to stand beside you.

You pressed a smile to your face but you knew it was not convincing as she continued to frown at you. “It is a joyous night, princess. I simply am a little overwhelmed.”

Helaena’s purple eyes moved across your face before nodding. “There are many people here. And they all seem to want something. Even if it is only a moment of our time.”

You could only imagine what an event like this would be for Helaena. It had to be an assault on her senses but she seemed to have resigned herself to soldiering through it as a duty. “Shall we hide here together, then?”

Helaena nodded, a soft laugh pressing at her mouth. “I think that would be wonderful.”

You spoke quietly with her for a few moments, letting her tell you of the newest additions to her collection and how she was settling into married life. She seemed to be handling all of it with the soft grace you knew her to always possess and that she would need as the future queen. Jacaerys eventually came to steal her away for a dance and they smiled at each other, heads angled toward one another with matching pink on their cheeks. You leaned against the pillar and watched the pair move through the steps of the dance with a wistful sigh. Yes, they would be good—together, to each other, and for the Realm. You had no doubt. It was something you could feel in your bones.

“You have been avoiding me.”

You had not been avoiding Aemond, per se. The funeral and celebrations and all the pomp and pageantry between had been exhausting. As a head of a Great House, there were certain expectations. An example you needed to set. And if all of that kept you from this exact situation? That was a happy happenstance. “What do you need, my prince?”

“You know what I desire.”

Your eyes shuttered for a moment as the smoke of his voice wrapped around you. “I know what you think you desire.” Steeling yourself, you turned to face him. Gods, he was beautiful. Even more so from this distance. You could see the fine stitching of his doublet and the silver and blue threads of the three headed dragon embroidered over his heart. It suited him, the blue. “But I do suppose I have been remiss in thanking you for uncovering the plot to destroy our dragons. You have done a great service to us all. I do commend and thank you for that.”

Aemond moved closer and you fought the childish urge to turn and flee. It was strange to find yourself feeling like prey. But with that knowing light in his eye and the set of his shoulders, what else could you be?

“I would not leave the Crown or House Targaryen defenseless.” His eye dragged down your body as he said it and you felt every inch of it. “I must protect them. Just as I must protect you.”

You were not entirely sure what you could or should say to him. You thanked him, that should be the end of it. It needed to be the end of it. Rolling your shoulders, you prepared to leave and gathered a handful of your skirts. “I will leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening-”

“I did not say I was finished yet, my lark.”

“I do not need your per…” Words stalled. “What did you call me?”

Aemond moved closer again, with all the grace of a trained warrior. One of his long fingers trailed down the fine stitching of your sleeve, and then pressed against the scar you had hidden. Again, your senses were clouded with the heat of him, the scent of him. Of metal and dragon and heat and lavender. “A lark.”

“Lark.” You knew the bird. You knew its sweet song and its gentle nature. You knew its place in the songs of lovers and on the tongues of poets. You were not a lark. You were your mother’s shrike. You were House Arryn’s falcon. But a lark? Is that how he saw you?

“Yes, my lark.”

“I am not yours, Aemond,” you nearly hissed before turning on your heel and walking away before he could whisper again. But with each step you took, the sobriquet echoed in your mind.

My lark.

My lark.

My lark.

You sat beneath the shadow of the heart tree and watched as Jeyne walked around the Red Keep’s godswood with Cregan Stark at her side. The young lord of Winterfell and a host of other Northern Houses had come to the capital to attend the coronation and swear fealty to Rhaenyra. And it was there that Cregan had caught Jeyne’s eye.

It would be a good match, to be sure. Politically it made sense and the way Jeyne was smiling was certainly an indication of how she felt, too. Cregan’s cheeks were often pink in her presence and you were fairly certain it was not because he was unaccustomed to the southron weather. Rhaenyra had asked you to chaperone them as they became better acquainted with each other. You were happy to oblige. The youngest princess was about to reach the age of majority and Cregan had just done so himself, after a long regency over his own seat of power. It was a little melancholy for you to see the last babe you had held in your arms now entertaining suitors.

You would watch them out of the corner of your eye as you worked on the embroidery in your grasp and look away whenever Cregan nervously looked in your direction. The last time he did so, he seemed confident enough to grasp Jeyne’s hand and press a shy kiss to her fingers when he thought you were not looking. Jeyne’s answering giggle kept you from stepping in. By the time you finished the moonbloom and dragon’s breath flowers on your small bit of linen, Jeyne was floating over to you with a smile on her face.

“Come, my little love,” you said as you rose from your seat. “Let us go speak with Her Grace, hm?”

Rhaenyra was pleased Jeyne was so smitten and you let yourself out to allow them discuss what the future could possibly hold—that seemed like it would be a special moment to be had between mother and daughter. To pass the time before tonight’s feast, you had a serving woman get you a bit of Arbor Gold from the kitchens and you sipped on it as you reclined on one of the holdfast’s balconies, watching the comings and goings of the city below.

“Lady Arryn, is it not?”

You stood and turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and saw a tall man dressed in extravagant silk and samite robes the color of the sky at dawn. “It is. And it seems you have caught me unawares; I apologize but I do not recall your name.”

The man bowed with a laugh. “I am Alios, a Magister of Pentos. Your queen was gracious enough to extend an invitation to me for her coronation.”

You tried to keep the surprise from your face. Inviting foreign dignitaries wasn’t unheard of but you knew the current Sealord of Braavos in attendance and the bad blood between Braavos and Pentos was storied. “And how are you finding our fair capital?”

“It is pleasant enough. But I am most fond of its art.” His sand colored eyes made a lazy path down your form as the corners of his lips turned up into an appreciative smile.

And you had to laugh at the unmitigated gall of it all. “The art is hanging on the walls, my lord. I am sure you would appreciate it all the more.”

Alios stepped closer and you found your grip tightening on the chalice in your hand. He might be handsome in certain ways, but there was something rotten about him—it did not help that his pallor reminded you of curdled milk. “What is paint and fabric compared to the beauty in front of me?”

Another laugh escaped you but it sounded stilted and uneven to your ears. “You are bold, my lord. It has been some time since I have been in Essos, but I do not recall such overtures being polite across the Narrow Sea.”

Alios waved it away. The golden rings on each of his fingers parkled in the dying sunlight. “I am an impatient man. If I see something I find beautiful, why waste my time on being polite?”

“And am I to assume that you are accustomed to getting everything you desire?” You replied. It was almost charming for a complete stranger to approach you in such a way. An affront to good decorum, but charming in a way that reminded you of a child that had not yet learned the way of courtly machinations.

He stepped closer still and smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth. “I am.”

The Arbor Gold was sweet on your tongue but you had to consciously keep your face from pulling into a frown as he took yet another step closer to you. “A pity, then, that I will have to be the first to teach you the lesson that you cannot also get what you want. Usually it is babes in arms who are learning such.” You pushed out another laugh, trying to retain some sort of jovial matter. It would not do for you to insult one of Rhaenyra’s guests, no matter how ridiculous you found them. “I would be obliged to show you where the tapestries House Targaryen saved from the Doom are hung. The Red Keep can be a maze to those not acquainted with its halls.”

“I would accept your offer, my lady. Please, lead the way.” He was saying everything correctly, aside from his overt flirtations. He was arguably handsome. Wealthy, if his clothing and standing as a Magister was any indication. And about your age. He could be…suitable. But why could you not find anything but barely checked revulsion for him? You hurriedly gulped the rest of your wine and led him through the halls to the storied tapestries. Thankfully, there were other courtiers viewing them and a small bit of tension slipped from your shoulders. You were not alone with him. “Will you not tell me their histories?” Alios asked.

Your tongue rolled in your mouth for a moment. “I do believe there are placards beneath each. They would be much more succinct than I could ever hope to be.”

“And if I do not care for brevity?” He arched a brow. “I must confess, Lady Arryn, that it seems you want to be rid of my company.”

You pressed a smile to your face. Well, at least he was not completely dense. “I do apologize for any slight you may feel, my lord, but I do not have the patience for such frivolities today. I am needed elsewhere. Please excuse me.”

You were quick to quit the hall, even when you heard him call your name with a laugh on his tongue. You would not suffer his presence any longer. And it was fortunate that you spied Rhaenyra rounding the corner a few paces later, flanked by a pair of Queensguard. She smiled as she spotted you and was quick to wave you to her side. “I have much to tell you,” she said as she linked her arm with yours.

Finally pulling in a full breath, you let her lead you into the Great Hall where the kitchen maids and staff were preparing for the night’s feast. A handful more were starting to lead carts filled with bread and vegetables out of the hall, too, no doubt being distributed throughout the city. Lady Mysaria, the new Mistress of Whispers on Rhaenyra’s Small Council, Princess Rhaenys, and Daeron had continued to voice the need to provide for the Smallfolk in abundance and Rhaenyra was happy to oblige.

Rhaenyra plucked a bit of cheese from one of the platters on the nearest table and handed it to you before popping some into her mouth as well.

“You are in a jovial mood,” you mused.

Rhaenyra’s smile widened and she drew you closer with a hand in yours. “Helaena is with child.”

Something akin to a yelp escaped you before you were pulling Rhaenyra into your arms. “Blessed news. A babe on the way. They will be wonderful parents.”

Rhaenyra pulled back after a moment, a smile still splitting her face. “I cannot fathom it. My boy will have a child of his own. And Helaena, the sweet girl, has been simply glowing.”

A giggle slipped by your lips as you shook your head. “Of course she is. I expect nothing less.” The news had something fluttering in your chest. Rhaenyra was queen, her line secure, the Realm at peace. House Targaryen was flourishing.

The feast that night was jovial, even more so with your secreted knowledge of Helaena’s condition. You made sure she had an extra plate of lemoncakes sent her way after the first course was finished and Helaena gave you a smile as bright as sunlight when they were placed in front of her. It was enough for you to focus on and not how you felt two insistent and very different gazes trailing your every move.

One burned. The other made you itch.

When the feast was finished, you welcomed your handmaidens insisting on you resting for the night. To be true, the festivities had taken a toll on you. You preferred the infrequent crowds of the Vale and Eyrie to the constant bustle and pageantry of the capital. But you would not squirrel yourself away for long. It was time to celebrate. Hopefully this would be the first, last, and only coronation you would have to attend. Focusing on the smiles of your dear friends and family would surely be enough to soothe any discomfort you had. Only a small group of your fellow Valemen had come to you with grievances they wanted you to mediate or settle during the celebration, so you supposed that was another mark of good fortune.

You slid into the near-scalding water in the copper tub with a sigh. Lavender oil had created small, rainbow slicks in the water and you let it soak into your skin as you rested your head against the back of the tub. Pulling in a deep breath, your tight muscles started to unclench and your mind finally went quiet.

Just for a moment.

Your eyes snapped open as you sucked in another lungful of the floral fragrance. Lavender. Aemond smelt of lavender. It would be egotistical to think that he had taken to using lavender oil simply because you did, would it not? But now the seed of the thought had been planted. You dragged a hand down your face and sunk a little lower in the water, letting it lap at your upper lip. Lavender. Lavender. Lavender.

The scent had always reminded you of home, of your mother. Wherever you went, so did the scent of the purple bloom. Your mother had used it, credited it to her healthy glow and soft skin. And you had always wanted to be like her and had insisted your maids use it with you as soon as you could accurately form the argument.

And now it was Aemond. Aemond who smelt of dragon and mint and leather and lavender.

Despite the coming autumn, it was a warm day. You fanned your face as you watched Jeyne and Helaena try to capture a dragonfly with a fine silk net. The younger princess had wanted to gift it to Helaena in celebration of her pregnancy, but could not figure out how to best capture the insect and eventually had to ask Helaena for help. Helaena didn’t seem to mind, spouting off all the ways she had tried before and had led Jeyne this way and that for materials for their “hunt.” It warmed the recesses of your heart to see them together. Jeyne did insist on being the one to wait in the tree for the dragonfly to pass by again, telling Helaena she was to remain “both feet firmly planted!” on the ground. Jacaerys eventually joined the pair, shouting a brotherly “be careful!” to Jeyne in the tree before sitting beside Helaena on the soft grass below.

The coronation celebrations were slowly coming to an end and you would soon be home in the Eyrie again. Away from Alios and his disconcerting attentions. Away from Aemond and his silent stares. After arriving in the capital, you thought Aemond’s quiet had meant a new chapter had started. Perhaps his feelings for you had started to wane. But he stared. And his stare burned. You could not deny the heat of his gaze nor the tilt of his mouth when you caught his gaze. He was unrepentant and would not look away.

Your thoughts of Aemond were quickly usurped as Rhaenyra settled beside you on the bench. “They are considering the name Aerion for the babe,” she said instead of a greeting.

“And what if they have a girl, hm? What shall they name her? You were quite taken with the name Visenya as a girl, if I remember correctly.”

Rhaenyra hummed, not taking her eyes off the couple as they continued to sit quietly together in the shade. “Your mother was the one to sway me from that name.”

“Oh?”

Rhaenyra nodded. “She said that some names hold more weight than others.”

You knew what she meant. Your mother had long pondered if Queen Visenya had placed a curse of some sort on her own name, guaranteeing that she would be the one and only. Tragic demises usually awaited any babe that was considered for it. “Well, we shall just have to see what they choose for their little heir when the time comes.”

That seemed to be enough for Rhaenyra who sat quietly beside you for a moment—until Jeyne fell out of the tree. Thankfully, the princess was unharmed but it was deemed best that her hunt for the dragonfly resume tomorrow. You plucked a few blades of grass from Jeyne’s hair as Rhaenyra herded everyone back into the shadows of the Red Keep.

“Lady Arryn!” You turned and saw Alios striding toward you, a gaggle of similarly dressed men at his back. “I was hoping to have a moment of your time, if you would be agreeable.”

You certainly were not agreeable but courtly politeness kept you from voicing your displeasure. “Is there something you need, my lord?”

His smile stretched across his face and it instantly rolled your stomach. “Just as I said: a moment of your time. I would have you walk with me.”

You smashed your tongue between your teeth for a moment before nodding. “A moment, my lord. I have other duties to attend to.” As you passed a handmaiden, one of Alicent’s retinue, you were quick to wave her to your side. You would not leave yourself alone with Alios and his ilk. His intentions were unclear and you did not want to know them, truthfully. The more time you spent in his presence, the less you wanted him near you. It did not leave you with any comfort when Alios eyed the handmaiden at your side with barely checked contempt, but when you blinked again, his face was back to its placid smile again.

He led your small group back out into the gardens and you again bit your tongue to avoid something unkind slipping by your lips. This was a waste of time. Surely he had to see your disinterest.

“Have you ever been to Pentos, my lady?”

“No. But I hear it can be agreeable.”

“‘Agreeable.’” He laughed. “It is far more than agreeable. It is the jewel of the Free Cities.” Pride oozed from every syllable as he tapped at his chest. “I would be honored to show you its beauty and wonders.”

“That is a most gracious offer, magister, but I must decline. I have my duties and responsibilities here. I must not shirk them. No matter how tempting the offer.” The offer was not tempting but, again, courtly politeness kept you from saying so. But you were tempted. Gods, you were tempted.

“Perhaps I shall spirit you away regardless. You would warm to my city eventually.”

The handmaiden gasped behind you—the man had just proposed kidnapping you, it was a polite reaction compared to what you wanted. But still, you reached back and looped your hand through her arm and held her to your side. “I will not be warming anything of yours. I would thank you for the company but I found no enjoyment in this exchange. Please excuse us.” You then steered you and the handmaiden back toward the Keep without fanfare and your tongue now bleeding behind your teeth with how tightly you had bit. As soon as you were in the safety of the shadows of the Keep, you shooed the handmaiden back to her duties after thanking her for her company and hurried to Rhaenyra’s solar.

Luck, it seemed, was on your side as the royal family was still inside and the Queen was fussing over her daughter, just as she had been before Alios had rudely intruded.

“Where did you go?” Helaena asked, turning to look at you from her perch on an overstuffed chaise. “You were here one moment, gone the next.”

“I was called away. It is no matter now. It shall not happen again.” You pressed a smile to your face and hoped you were telling the truth. Surely Alios would now understand that you wanted nothing from him. Short of telling him that you found his very presence repugnant, you had made your opinion of him clear. Briefly, you thought of telling Rhaenyra of Alios and his unwanted attentions, but as you watched her fuss over her daughter and then pivot to also fuss over Helaena while balancing her father’s crown on her brow, you decided against it. It was not the time. You handled this yourself. Asking anything of Rhaenyra now would simply be selfish.

Over Rhaenyra’s shoulder, Helaena caught your eye. Her purple gaze was heavy, like she was seeing something on you that you could not scrub away. The queen-to-be saw something.

The door to the solar opened and Daeron strode in with a teasing smile at the ready. “I heard you fell out of a tree trying to catch a bug.”

Jeyne squawked in embarrassment. “Who told you?” And as the room descended into familiar familial chaos, you tried to smile. You had made the right choice, hadn’t you?

The day faded into the next and you were thankfully tied up in showing a few of your younger bannermen and their families around the capital and presenting them to the Crown. It was a bit monotonous but you would not complain. You were helping, in your own way, to solidify Rhaenyra’s reign and your own power over the Vale. And it mostly kept you out of Aemond and Alios’ lines of sight. They were off…busy with their own endeavors, you were sure, and you were happy to not think of them. But your mind did wander to Aemond. Now would be the most suitable time for him to find a more agreeable match. You hoped whomever he found would treat him well. He deserved it.

And you steadfastly ignored how hope and something you could not name twisted in your chest at the thought of it.

But it was no matter as you retired to your chambers before supper service, trying to regain a bit of energy you would need in order to play the part of Lady Arryn for the masses. And it was a blessing that you had such a high title and sway. But gods be good, it could be tiresome.

As you took a moment to breathe and attempt to sort through all the dynamics between your bannermen’s houses (there seemed to be a bit of tension between Lord Coldwater and the newest Lord Elesham and Lady Waynwood had come to you in hopes of helping her son and heir secure a suitable match and that was just the last hour) and how you should approach each of them. It helped soothe your mind as you rolled one of your mothers rings around your finger. Unladylike, true, but it helped nonetheless.

A quick knock at your chamber door had you turning, thoughts halting for a moment. You expected to see one of your handmaidens, or one attending to one of the other royal women summoning you to one solar or another. But what you found instead was Alios, leaning against your closed door, fingers twirling the lock with a smile on his face. “It should not have been this difficult to get you alone.”

Something vile rippled down your spine. Nothing good could come of this and your stomach twisted. “This is inappropriate, my lord. I must ask you leave at once.”

But he only stepped toward you. “Why should I? I have gone through much and more trouble to finally speak to you like this. Without any unwanted ears listening.”

Danger. Blood. Violence. Something whispered at the back of your mind for you to run. To scream. To flee. To fight. “Leave. It has been some time since I lived on the other side of the Narrow Sea, but I do not recall unannounced and unwanted visitors being polite.”

He took another step. And then another. And you took one back—only one as the back of your legs hit the edge of your featherbed. Your eyes darted to the door behind him. Surely you could be swift enough to evade him.

“If you try to run, I assure you that you will regret it, my lady.”

Ice ran through your veins at his words. “You dare threaten me?”

“I dare,” Alios said, smirk pushing at his mouth. “And I am certain you would prefer that your mother’s transgressions were not revealed to the court.”

Questions ran through your mind as your ears rang. What could he possibly mean? What connection did your mother have to this grievous and foreign man? And what did he want? He did not wait for you to voice these questions and pressed on with another taunting step toward you.

“Pentos and Lys do not often trade with one another, but I enjoy their wares when they arrive on our shores. And one such man came to Pentos not a year past, with quite a story to tell.”

You knew instantly of whom he spoke. Ghael. Your kinslaying uncle. But you would not let this interloper know that he had struck at a part of you that still ached. “I would not have you waste your breath recounting stories. I’ll not ask again: leave.”

But Alios inched closer still. “Your uncle told me stories of his maiden niece, locked in a tower of her own making, surrounded by stolen wealth.”

“He was the thief,” you seethed. “He stole my father’s life and livelihood. He would have murdered me in my bed, a child, had my mother not spirited me away to Westeros. Whatever he has told you, you have been misled.”

And as Alios’ infuriating smirk continued to grow, you realized you had already shown your weak spot. “I do not believe I have, my lady. Here you stand, as he said. A lady of considerable standing and wealth. You are kin with the new queen. Her children seek you out for comfort and conversation. Now, tell me, why would the only daughter of a Lyseni merchant be of such high standing if she had not taken something that belonged to another?”

You rolled your lips into your mouth for a moment. It would be worthless to try to convince him in seeing how he had been led astray, would it not? But still, you could not stand for such slander. “My position in court has nothing to do with my misbegotten uncle. My mother was the queen’s aunt, she was a cousin to the late king. Anything my mother brought from Lys was my father’s. All of it was my father’s and Ghael usurped what he could after murdering him. All that my father had was my mother’s by right. I now see Ghael has not learned in these years how to handle his own affairs. He offered you a great sum, did he not, to return what he says was stolen from him? The last man he sent this side of the Narrow Sea met his end swiftly.”

“That man was not me and your uncle promised me something far greater if I returned what you and your mother stole.”

Another step.

Another.

“And what is that?” You asked through gritted teeth. Sweat lined your palms but you fought the girlish urge to wipe it away on your gown.

“You.” And then the man lunged and his grotesquely slick lips pressed against yours. Your next breath was a half muffled shriek as you shoved at his chest. He stumbled back for just a moment before he surged forward to again claim your mouth with his; one of his hands wrapped around the back of your neck as the other grasped your breast with a cruel grip. One of his boots knocked into your feet and had you falling backward against your featherbed with a yelp. Alios laughed as you, again, shoved at his chest, and you nearly screamed as his tongue traced against the seam of your tightly closed mouth.

You raked your nails down his cheek and snarled in near delight as blood bubbled beneath your fingers but you were not done. Shoving your knee up, Alios let out a gasp of pain as you found your mark and he reared back, giving you just enough room to move out from under him and stumble to your feet. But he lunged again, grasped at the sleeve of your gown and yanked. The seams popped beneath his grip but you surged backward as the fabric tore and ripped down your arm. Alios threw the ruined fabric aside as he stood straight again. His sneer returned even as his chest heaved.

The door burst open and Aemond strode in, no doubt having heard the disturbance. And to your horror, several courtiers were peering around him into the room, already whispering.

And Alios was the first to speak. “I did not know the women this side of the Narrow Sea were so tenacious!”

The whispers increased in volume but you scarcely heard them over the roaring of blood in your ears. “You impudent liar! He has attacked me-”

“She is embarrassed! You have caught us in quite the position; I daresay I usually leave my lovers much more satisfied than this.” His following laugh had your blood boiling.

“He continues to spew falsehoods!” Despite wanting to appear calm and collected, as you were known to be, as the Lady of the Eyrie should always be seen, the terror and unbridled rage was starting to gnaw at your bones. This could ruin you. Ruin everything. Your mother’s legacy. Your legacy and legitimacy as the rightful ruler of the Vale. All of it would be lost to the scandal.

But Alios simply laughed again and bent to grab your discarded sleeve. He waved it around like a tourney favor. The blue and silver fabric shimmered mockingly in the dying light. “We were in quite a rush, as you can see, Prince Aemond.”

It took you a moment to realize Aemond had his sword readied in his hand and he had not moved to sheathe it again. “And will you deign to tell me that the blood on your face is from her passionate embrace?” Aemond’s tone held the icy formality you knew him to use in court but it now had a steely underbelly you could not ignore. And his sword still glinted in the light.

Alios’ smile faltered a fraction and he touched his cheek, as if he had forgotten the small injury you had bestowed upon him. “As I said: we were in a rush.”

The whispers at the prince’s back continued to grow and your heart raced. You stared at Aemond, silently begging him to believe you. Despite your rejection of his suit, he had to believe you in this, did he not? He had to know you better than to cavort with a near stranger so openly.

“I know Lady Arryn to be a woman who holds honor above much else. Her honor has been without question.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as Aemond’s words as the smallest bit of tension fell from your spine. He believed you. “Thank you, my prince.”

But it seemed that the Pentoshi Magister was not yet finished. “Fine! I was trying to protect her honor by implying our tryst was amicable but Lady Arryn attacked me.”

Someone gasped and any relief you might have felt vanished as bile coated the back of your mouth. “Cease your lies! You are-”

“That is a dire accusation to levy against Lady Arryn,” Aemond said, his tone not wavering, but you would swear you saw the grip he had on the hilt of his sword tightening for a moment. Just a moment.

The fortress shook for a moment and your dragon’s distinctive shriek echoed through the halls and air. He had come for you, too.

“Indeed it is,” Alios agreed, the smile returning to his face for a flash before he schooled his features into a mockery of genteel resignation. “I wanted to spare her the embarrassment of-”

“You will not accuse me of your own crime.” Despite the shake in your voice, it rang out for all to hear. This would not stand.

“And I will not have you accuse me of such treachery,” Alios sneered in return before turning to Aemond again, his chin tilted up for a moment. “Your country allows trials for such matters, does it not? We should have this settled, for all to hear.”

“I choose violence.” The words spilled from between your lips and you would not and could not take them back. He had tried to dishonor you. In front of the court and your Valemen, no matter how small of a crowd. And your honor was your armor. “I demand a trial by combat.”

The smirk that stretched across Alios’ face was all teeth, like a rabid jackal. “I was so hoping it would come to that. Have I mentioned that I was once a bravo? I have killed many men for less.”

You bit back the snarl you felt growing. Alios being a bravo might give him a fair fight, but you knew Oswin would fight gallantly and prevail. The truth was on your side. He had never faltered in his protection of you. You might not be able to truly wield a mace, and your true weapon was a dragon. Your dragon. But you knew that using your dragon as such would be seen as dishonorable if not completely underhanded. Yes, you would have to rely on him, your sworn shield.

You were herded out to the training yard, the crowd growing with each step you took. Seven hells, how were you going to explain this to Rhaenyra? She was to be celebrating her ascension and you were demanding a trial by combat against one of the foreign dignitaries during the festivities. You asked one of your handmaidens to fetch Ser Oswin with haste before you were all but shoved into one of the chairs on the small overlook of the training grounds. A queensguard was posted at the entrance to the hall and you were unsure if this was to keep you safe or to keep you still. Your heart was still thundering in your chest and blood roared in your ears. How could so much go so wrong so quickly? The crowd had grown, too, much to your horror. The whispers you could catch told the story of how this could be the end of you. A harlot or a lady caught unawares by a man with ill intent? The gods would decide. Your dragon had followed you, paced atop the Red Keep, to peer down into the training yard with his blazing eyes as he loomed over you. For better or worse, he was with you.

You looked down at your hands and saw streaks of Alios’ blood beneath your fingernails and soaking your nail beds. You must have dealt him quite a blow—but you could find no satisfaction in it now. But you still pushed out your next breath as you curled your fingers together against your palms, whispering one of the few chants your mother had drilled into you for protection. She had once told you that having the blood of your enemy made it all the more potent. And with the fear and growing loathing coursing through your own veins, you knew it would be formidable. But you wished not for your own safety, but for Ser Oswin’s. His son was still growing. His lady wife adored him. And then regret started to tug at the back of your mind—should you have asked for someone else? Anyone else?

But as your handmaiden slipped back to your side—alone—your hope for protecting Ser Oswin might have come to fruition regardless.

“Where is Ser Oswin?” You whispered, blood pumping past your ears.

“I have not been able to find him, my lady.” Her eyes lowered and you saw tears lining her lashes.

Alios laughed as he lounged against a training brace, a thin and sharp sword dangling between his fingers. He no doubt heard your handmaiden. “Do you not have anyone who would fight for you and your supposed honor, my lady? Perhaps they see you as I do.” His self righteous smirk only faltered when your dragon blew green smoke into the air.

“Hold your tongue.” It was Aemond who spoke next.The gathered crowd parted for him immediately, letting his powerful stride carry him forward. He wore no armor but his sword was sheathed at his side, waiting and wanting.

Whispers ripped through the group as Aemond continued to close the distance. What would a prince of the Realm be doing here?

“I shall fight for Lady Arryn’s honor.” Your heart started to claw its way up your throat as you watched his long fingers curl around his sword’s pommel. “I know she tells the truth.”

Alios scoffed and stood straight. “The woman is a trollop. Trying to seduce me and then turning to violence when I declined her advances. She is no lady.”

Aemond hummed and looked at you as you leaned forward in your seat. “I think I should have your tongue for that.”

“You may try, princeling. But I’ll have your blood first.” Before the septon could even recite his prayer or Aemond unsheathe his sword, Alios lunged. His sword arched toward Aemond’s neck who simply stepped back to avoid the blade. With Aemond’s next step, his own sword was pulled and met with Alios’ in a heavy clash.

Aemond shoved Alios back and ducked in time to miss the blade coming at his face again and then rolled as Alios swung down, hoping to stab the prince in the back. But Aemond was quick. And cruel.

He pivoted and thrust his sword out, driving the blade through Alios’ knee. Alios tumbled into the dirt with a scream as Aemond pulled his sword free and stood tall again. Blood dripped from his sword but you doubted he cared as he calmly crushed Alios’ wrist beneath his heel. The other man’s screams choked him and you leaned further still and watched as Aemond pried the sword from Alios’ grip and cast it aside.

“Recant your accusations against Lady Arryn.” His voice was smooth and light. The fight had been short, true, and had presented him little challenge, apparently. “Now.”

Alios spat at him but it did not land, instead slithered down Alios’ splotched cheek. “I spoke true! She is-”

The point of Aemond’s sword sunk into the center of Alios’ sternum. “Careful, my lord. I would consider letting you keep your life if you proclaim that you falsely accused Lady Arryn. But I will not allow you to continue to proclaim these lies.” With a flick of his wrist, you watched blood bloom across Alios’ chest and he let out a short gasp as Aemond stared down at him.

Something you could not name stirred in the dark of your chest. Aemond was an unmoving force. A shadow of death cast across his opponent.

You could see Alios’ chest heave with each breath before he nodded, body going lax. “Lady Arryn did not try to seduce me. It was I who sought her company and was refused.”

Hushed conversation ripped around you but you could not tear your eyes away from Aemond. And, as if feeling your gaze, Aemond turned to look at you. His lilac gaze met yours—just for a moment—before he turned back to the man beneath his foot and sword. He did not move.

“You said you would let me live if-”

“I said I would consider it. I have considered it. And I still find you lacking.” He hummed. “But it would be dishonorable for me to kill an unarmed man. I shall let you try to best me.” The prince pulled his foot and weapon back and watched, almost disinterested, as Alios scrambled to find his footing and sword again. More blood started to dribble out of Alios’ chest but he still raised his weapon.

And then Aemond moved. He parried Alios’ sluggish advance and then turned and sunk the entirety of his sword through the other man’s chest. Up to the hilt. Alios froze for just a moment before pulling in a stuttering breath and then sprayed blood across Aemond’s face with his last moments before the Stranger took him.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

The crowd’s whispers reached a crescendo just as the septon, pale and shaking, stepped out into the dirt of the training ground and clasped his hands together. “Th-the Seven have spoken. Lady Arryn has been proven innocent of…of the accusations levied against her. Lord Alios was a deceiver…” He droned on a little longer but you scarcely heard it. And you could not tear your eyes away from the growing pool of blood beneath Alios’ body. Not until your dragon extended his ridged neck and took the magister’s body between his blackened teeth as the crowd below screamed again and quickly fled. But he paid them no mind as he devoured his snack before taking to the skies again, satisfied that you were safe and his own hunger sated. For now.

It took you a stretched moment to realize Aemond had gone. And you were alone on your little perch as the rest of the crowd dispersed, satisfied with your innocence and their unconscious need for bloodshed. Alone with your thundering heartbeat and racing thoughts.

You curled your hands into your skirts for a moment, trying to breathe through…everything. Your hold shook. How had this happened? All of it? And now it was over. The blood was surely cooling on the dirt now, waiting to be washed away by some squire or master-at-arms who tired of looking at it.

A soft footfall on the stone floor at your back had you rising and turning—and there stood Aemond. Crimson stained his hand. The wound he had dealt Alios must have been deep, deeper than you witnessed. Before you could form a single word, he moved, closing the distance. The blood was still warm as Aemond grasped at your face, pressing his hands to your cheeks and dragging you close. “Do you see now, my lark? Have I not sufficiently proven myself to you?”

You could feel Alios’ blood starting to grow tacky and cool, leaving streaks across your face that you would feel even after you had scrubbed the crimson away. “I did not wish for you-”

“But you have me. And I have spilled blood for your honor. For your house. For you.” His thumbs pressed into the plump of your cheeks, burning and viscid. “I have proclaimed it for the Realm to see. No one shall speak against you. Not while I have air in my lungs.” Aemond leaned his forehead against yours and his eye shuttered.

“Aemond…” The scent of blood had your throat tightening. He was safe. You were safe. “Thank you.”

His eye opened again and for a moment you thought he would kiss you but his grip on your face only tightened a fraction before he reached up and dragged one of his bloody fingers between your brows. Another hum rumbled through him as he looked at the mark he’d made before he turned and walked away without another word. As he disappeared back into the Keep, the blood grew cold on your skin.

It was not until you were back in your room that you realized that he had marked you in the way a groom would in a Valyrian marriage ceremony. And your heart ached.

You could feel Alicent and Rhaenyra’s eyes boring into each side of your face as you stirred honey into your tea.

“I have already apologized,” you muttered into the fine porcelain as you raised it to your lips.

“You needn’t apologize at all,” Alicent said, again, as she glanced at Rhaenyra. “I was the one who arranged for the magister to attend the celebrations.”

“His actions do not reflect upon you, Alicent. How was anyone to know that my kinslaying uncle had such reach or such patience?” The tea cup rattled in its saucer as you set it down. “But I must, again, apologize for having Aemond be wrapped up in this folly.”

And for the umpteenth time in your life, Alicent and Rhaenyra exchanged a look before turning back to you. “Aemond can act rashly, I will admit, but I believe that his defense of you was something we all knew was inevitable.”

You froze for a moment, fingers still half-curled around the teacup’s handle. “What do you mean?”

Rhaenyra let out a small noise—you weren’t entirely sure if it was a laugh or a sigh. “You cannot be so blind to see that my brother is devoted to you.”

Devoted. It was a terrible, heavy word. But your heart still skipped a beat at the thought of it. And you hated that it did. But it was involuntary.

Before you could form a thought to sway them away from the current topic of conversation, they were, thankfully or not, called away to wish some of their guests safe travels back to their homes in the Westerlands.

You found your way back to your own apartments and were pleased to find Ser Oswin at your door. The gold cloaks you had sent out to find him after your trial concluded had returned with news that your sworn shield had been found and was being tended to by maesters. While you had a strange solace in knowing that he had not abandoned you, it was quickly wiped away by concern for him when you saw the bandages around his head. The maesters told you that he would heal completely, but he would need some time to find his bearings again. They hypothesized that he had been struck about the head and moved into the dark alleyway near the Red Keep where the gold cloaks had discovered him. It seemed Alios had planned for nearly everything in his attempt to destroy and possess you. Having Ser Oswin indisposed when you were alone in your chambers and still missing when you called for a trial by combat had been a devious plot.

Ser Oswin was not wearing his armor and you were quick to have him sit on the chaise your apartments offered and sent another handmaiden to fetch tea for him. “It gladdens me to see you upright, Ser, but are you sure you should not be resting?”

The knight shook his head but grimaced with the movement. “The maesters said I am well enough to return to the Vale with you, my lady. And I had to see you.” He pulled his lips into his mouth for a moment. “I have not fulfilled my oaths to you as your sworn shield.”

“Ser-”

“You have given me a sacred duty to keep you safe. And I was caught unawares when you needed me most. I will wear this shame forever.”

As your handmaiden returned with the tea and quietly made herself scarce in the shadows of your chambers, you tentatively reached out to grasp Oswin’s hand. “Alios was a cunning man. Underhanded and cruel. You are a man of honor—you are not to blame for anything. I am grateful that you will be well again soon.”

Oswin set his other hand over yours and his gentle eyes met yours for just a moment before he, again, shook his head. “You have always been kind to me, my lady. You and your lady mother both.”

“You are deserving of that kindness, Ser Oswin,” you whispered, trying to press as much gratitude as you could into your voice. He was a stalwart sword and shield. A good man. A loyal father and husband. “I am thankful, truly, that I still have you at my side. And I would have no other. You must know that.”

Oswin eventually excused himself after you swore to him that he had not lost his place as your sworn shield and that you would not hear a single word against him and his honor. It was not his honor that had been revealed to be wanting. Alios was more of a villain than you had first thought. It was one thing to plot to destroy you but to also destroy the life of your stalwart shield was another. You hoped his soul was never given rest.

Princess Rhaenys, wearing the thick necklace of interlocked hands denoting her position as Hand of the Queen, had told you to refrain from drawing any more attention during the remainder of your stay. But as soon as the words left her mouth, she had to stifle a small smile. She gently squeezed your shoulder with a shake of her head. “I am glad you were not harmed further.” That was a kindness, to be sure. But you did keep to the edges of the last day’s celebrations. It was a balancing act; being seen in public to show you were victorious but not be too much of a spectacle as to invite more whispers. Everyone needed to believe the fact that you were innocent.

Daemon was the only one who found some humor in it all and bemoaned the fact that he had not borne witness to the short trial and asked you, only somewhat jokingly, to “accidentally seduce” another magister so he could have his turn at killing someone. “It’s been too long. My gentle lady-wife despises violence.” You tried to laugh. It marginally worked.

As you sat in the shadows provided by one of the pavilions set up along the courtyard to watch a troupe of mummers reenact the love story of Florian and Jonquil, you could hear a few whispers. Most, thankfully, were content with your innocence being proven by the trial by combat. But there were some that questioned why a prince was the one to defend you.

“Perhaps that simply shows her innocence all the more,” a woman bedecked in the colors of House Reyne said. “The gods sent a prince as her champion and he prevailed. And swiftly.” The woman waved a hand. “I’ll hear nothing more of it. I am not one to question the gods.”

You almost smiled at that. Almost. It was a boon that the masses of the Seven Kingdoms took the Faith of the Seven as law. It was hard to argue with a god’s will.

But you knew it had been Aemond.

As if you could not help it, you turned your head and spotted him in the crowd. He was seated behind Rhaenyra and beside Jeyne and Daeron who both looked like they were enjoying the performance. But he was looking at you.

He had once told you that his patience was growing thin. That had been many moons ago. Even with his defense of you against Alios, could he possibly…finally be seeing that whatever feelings he thought he harbored for you were mislaid?

And why did that twist at something in your chest?

You shook that thought away as the mummer’s finished the first act of their performance and you clapped politely with the rest of the crowd. The crushed velvet curtains that had been strung up that morning to create a stage closed and you smiled as Jeyne caught your eye and waved at you, full of girlish giddiness.

You stayed seated as others milled about, socializing during the intermission. A few were brave enough to give you shallow pleasantries in passing but they scattered as Alicent approached and claimed the seat beside yours with a flutter of her cerulean silk skirts. “How are you, my lady?” Her mouth tilted up with the honorific, mirth coloring each syllable.

“I am pleased Her Grace’s reign has started with such peace and festivity.” I am grateful to be going home soon was unspoken but understood with how Alicent patted your hand with a wry smile. The Dowager Queen linked her fingers with yours and stood, wordlessly tugging you to your feet and leading you away from the crowds and into the shadows cast over the yard by the Red Keep’s reaching towers. It was only when you were truly alone did she drop your hand.

“Tell me true: are you well? You have been out of sorts these last days.”

And you could not deny her and her gentle, brown eyes. “It has not been without its surprises. But I am thankful that I have not sullied Rhaenyra’s celebrations.” You sighed and squeezed her hand. “You mustn’t think any more on it. I am trying to do the same.”

Alicent nodded after a moment, accepting your want to not speak of Alios and his plots. “My son, Aemond, asks of you.” She paused and your heart thudded. What had he told her? “You must know that what Rhaenyra said was true: he is devoted to you. I want to see him happy. Content.”

Alicent loved her children, you could not and would not deny that. If her children needed warmth, she would burn the world for them. But sometimes, you noted, that she seemed to have missteps in connecting with them. Your mother had been the one to say it out loud: Alicent was a child herself when she was forced to become a mother. It was unfair and another strike against Viserys that you would never forgive. Alicent would fight for her children, support them, make sure they were cared for. She loved them. She did. Truly. But the divide persisted. It might have lessened a fraction as the years passed but you knew that families and the blood they had running in their veins were complicated.

“That is a worthy want.”

She nodded, the golden circlet atop her auburn curls catching the sunlight with the movement. Four tiny, golden dragons curled around it, each with different gems for eyes. Rhaenyra had commissioned it for Alicent’s last name day and you had smiled like a fool when you received Alicent’s raven detailing it. You were so pleased that she and Rhaenyra were so fulfilled with each other, finally free of the constraints of societal obligations and the like.

But the joy you felt fizzled when you saw her gnaw at the edge of her thumb. Why was she so nervous? “Alicent?”

“My son has told me he has been courting you. Why have you kept this from me?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “I… I assure you, he is not courting me, Alicent. He has made…overtures but I told him that-”

“He has said you make him happy. You make him happy.. Do you refute it?”

Your tongue was sand in your mouth as you stared at Alicent, your surrogate sister. “I have given him nothing to have him think that way.” It was the gentlest of phrasings you could muster at the moment. How could you tell her that her son was delusional in his affections for you?

Alicent took a single step toward you, the soft sole of her slipper silent on the stone. “But you make him happy. Surely you could at least consider him-”

“Consider him as what?” You asked, agog. “I am more than a decade his senior. He is-”

“He is devoted.” Her voice rang out, clear and unmoveable. “You wanted a family, a husband. You have been the one to encourage him in all of his endeavors and now you want to deny yourself this because it is my son?”

The unchecked vitriol in her tone nearly had you recoiling but you could do little else besides let your jaw drop. “Alicent…surely you would want someone more suitable for him. Younger, more-”

“He wants you. While I shall not force you to accept his courtship, I would ask that you do not dismiss it out of hand. My son…” She rolled her lips for a moment and her dark eyes hardened. “Aemond has been denied most everything. I’ll not have you refuse him so callously.”

“It is not out of callousness. It is out of concern. I am not… I am so much older than him. I want the best for him, as you do. I am… I have come to realize that having a family is not what the gods have planned for me.” The words hurt to say but the next rolled your stomach, “If Aemond also has a hope for a family of his own, I can help him find a suitable bride-”

Alicent scoffed and you recoiled as if she had struck you instead. “He has chosen you. You are the sole heir to a Great House and a Prince of the Realm wishes to take you to wife. There is no one else worthy of him.”

Before you could even think of a rebuttal, she turned and walked away, letting her words echo in your mind as she retook her seat at Rhaenyra’s side. Your entire chest ached. One of the few people who had been an unmoving presence in your life was mad at you. It felt like a knife between your ribs. And it only continued to bite at your marrow when you looked out into the crowd and saw Aemond watching you. Again.

Why couldn’t he see that you were trying to help him? Even if it left you feeling sick and cold for reasons you could not name. Even if the show had not finished, you murmured to one of your handmaidens that you were retiring for the afternoon and she hurried to keep step with you back to your chambers before you dismissed her for the remainder of the day.

It was better to be alone right now. To try to gather your thoughts that were racing through your mind with increasing, dizzying speed. What had Aemond said to his mother to convince her, so fervently, of his supposed feelings for you? In your desperation, you pushed the fat of your thumb into the quill on your vanity until blood bubbled across your skin. The pain was fleeting but the solace it gave you, as you murmured the chants your mother once whispered to you, was immeasurable. You would move through this. You would go home. This would end.

You licked the blood away and wished, as you so often did, that you could see your own future as you saw others when they had come to you and your mother under the shadows of the Eyrie. It had to be willingly given, not forced as it had been with Alios. If you could have seen his death, perhaps you could have… Well, that doesn’t matter now.

You eventually collapsed across the fine blankets of your bed and shut your eyes against the sunlight still streaming into your room. Perhaps more rest would help you. Or at least distract you from your thoughts for a moment. And the brief nap was restful, thankfully. When you opened your eyes a few hours later, it felt as if you hadn’t moved at all.

A knock sounded at the door—that must have been what woke you. You stood and shuffled toward it and welcomed in the handmaiden who said you were being called to supper with the Targaryens. She helped you change into yet another fine gown and straightened your appearance.

Just as she finished righting the ties on the back of your gown, another knock sounded. She was quick to answer it and turned with a small smile. “Prince Aemond, Lady Arryn.”

The silver-haired prince stepped in as the handmaiden curtseyed and dismissed herself before you could think of keeping her from doing so. Your stomach clenched as you looked at him. Both dread and a strange sense of furor swirled beneath our skin. “What do you need, Aemond?”

“Is it so uncommon for me to come and visit the lady whom I defended?”

That was a fair point but, thankfully, he did not wait for your reply and swept his hand into the folds of his doublet and produced your silver necklace, the one Alicent had given you ages ago which matched your diadem.

The necklace was one of your favorites, even if it was now always associated with the first time Aemond kissed you. But why did he have it? When did he spirit it away from your chambers?

“Aemond…” You started, already reaching out for it.

“Turn around.” He twirled a finger between you, that same smirk tilting his lips.

You wanted to argue and perhaps mention that he had stolen the necklace from you and the entirety of this situation was inappropriate and unbecoming. But you bit your tongue, hoping that this small acquiescence on your part would hurry this along. Your eyes fluttered shut as the scent of him enveloped you and the warmth of him bled across your back as he stepped closer. It was involuntary, wholly out of your control. And you could not stop the shiver when you felt the metal of the necklace wrap around your neck. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so, from when Aemond’s body heat had leached through it.

But your eyes snapped open when something heavy fell against your sternum instead of the delicate feathers you had memorized from your constant wear.

You looked down and your gasp nearly choked you as you grasped at the new addition to your necklace. The sapphire was large. It fit neatly into your palm and had been cut so it sparkled with even the smallest of movements. It took your breath away. Even more so when you noticed how the delicate silver feathers fell towards it. The clasp at the back of your neck clicked in place and Aemond’s long fingers moved over your shoulders, pressing until you turned in his grasp. His minted breath swept across your mouth. He looked down, watching as your fingers mindlessly clutched at the sapphire. His mouth tilted up into a smirk, pleased.

“It suits you.”

Your mouth opened with a rebuttal but all that came out was another soft breath. There were no words you could conjure at that moment. Nothing you could say.

He curled his hand over yours and then raised your joined hands to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “Come. They are waiting for us.” And then he was moving, pulling the sapphire from your grip to let it rest against your sternum, and linking your fingers together as he started to lead you from your chambers. And when you tried to pull your hand from his, his grip only tightened until you were hissing. “Do not fight me, my lady. I have told you: my patience wears thin.” His voice was low, steady, but you could not deny the authority that dripped from every syllable.

It did not stop you from loosely tugging at your hand again with little success. “Yes, I have been informed by your mother that she believes we are courting.”

“We are.”

“Aemond. You must cease with this delusion. If you want a wife, I shall find you one. One that is worthy of you, closer to your age, and-”

Aemond drew you both to a sudden stop and his lilac eye blazed as he looked at you. “You are mine. You have always been mine. Did I not tell you that the gods shaped you for me? And I for you? I will have no other.” And then he was moving again, and you were pulled alongside him, trying to match his long, powerful strides. And it only took you a moment to do so. Your steps fell beside his with ease once you put in a small bit of effort. Each step was in sync. Aemond seemed to notice it as well and let out a small hum as you neared the doors to the Great Hall. The men at the doors bowed to both of you and announced your names as you walked inside.

Almost immediately, Alicent’s brow arched and Rhaenyra leaned over to whisper something in her ear as you bowed to them, seated at the high table. Seven Hells. How were you going to explain this? You had little time to think of anything before you were tucked into your seat at the table. Of course, Aemond was at your side. You bit your tongue for a moment and watched silently as food was loaded onto your plate by a few of the serving men and women but your heart gave yet another lurch when Aemond’s hand covered your plate just as a ladle of mushroom sauce was about to be poured over your boar.

“My lady does not care for mushrooms. Thank you.”

The serving man dipped his head in apology and carried on to the next plate and you stared uselessly at your unmarred plate as words tangled in your throat. “When did you learn I detested mushrooms?”

The smile that pushed at Aemond’s mouth was soft and you fought the urge to return it. “I listen, my lark.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you hated it, just for a moment. No one had… Your people listened when you gave decrees and held mediate disagreements. But you knew they didn’t listen when it came to small matters as to what you liked or disliked on your plate. And why did that make this small act of knowing all the more precious to you?

That realization had you pressing your fingers to your mouth for a moment. You could not feel like this. Not with Aemond. Harwin had made you smile. He was kind. But he had not listened when you tried to tell him how you felt about your dragon, what he meant to you. But you knew that Aemond would understand. Your nails dug into your upper lip for a moment, trying to will the comparison away. Aemond had overstepped. He had put into motion Harwin and House Strong’s demise. He had kissed you and kissed you and kissed you despite your protests and simply said that you were his for the taking. Surely you could not be feeling…

Your chair nearly toppled as you stood up. “I am afraid I’ve taken ill. I must retire.” You then hurried from the Great Hall after making another quick curtsey in Rhaenyra’s direction. Your heart thundered in your chest as you swept down the hall back toward your chambers. As you turned a corner, you pulled at your necklace, needing to be free of its added weight and the way Aemond’s sapphire thumped over your heart.

But it would not come free.

The necklace’s clasp would not give, no matter how you pulled or how you fussed, it would not come undone. At your wit’s end, you strode over to the looking glass and turned the necklace around so you could look at the clasp and you nearly screamed. The clasp had been replaced—you had only seen clasps like this in Lys as a child, meant for jewels denoting a man or woman’s status as a prize within a pillow house. Only the madam or master of the establishment had the small, intricate key to undo them.

And Aemond had made sure the necklace, with his jewel, his mark, would not leave your neck without his consent.

Rage and something akin to delight bubbled beneath your skin for a moment. And then you were moving, throwing the entirety of your traveling wardrobe into your trunks and yanking off your gown and changing into your riding clothes. Your handmaidens would see that you were ready to leave when they came into the room tomorrow but you would not be there.

No.

You pushed at the hidden door, muscle memory telling you to lean into it for an extra moment, before it clicked open. You hurried down the sloped staircase and finally pulled in a breath when the chilled night air hit your face. You pulled your cloak higher and slid its hood over your silver hair as you made your way through the still-bustling city streets. And while your dragon tended to roost wherever he wanted, you always knew where to find him. Tonight, it was just outside the Iron Gate and at the start of the Rosby Road. What you weren’t expecting, however, was your dragon to be coiled around Vhagar.

His large head was nestled between her wing and flank, content to watch you approach in the dark with his blazing green eyes. Vhagar rumbled a greeting, too, not moving. You weren’t…entirely sure what you should make of this revelation. True, your dragons had flown together over the city. But this was more than that. This was a familiarity usually reserved to bonded pairs. Mated pairs. And that feeling you wouldn’t name twisted behind your ribs again.

“We must go, my darling,” you said to your dragon in Valyrian.

He huffed.

“Please? I cannot stand to be in this place for a moment longer.” You hated how petulant you sounded, how desperate. But you needed to leave. Before Aemond did something else. Before another move was made against you.

Your dragon grumbled but started to move, nudging his head against Vhagar’s as they slowly disentangled from each other. It was a sight to see, to be true, to see the two largest dragons move so effortlessly around each other, imposing shapes made gentle in the moonlight. He bent his wing to you and you slowly took your seat astride his spine. The familiar heat of him settled your frazzled mind for a moment and he let out a worried grumble as you curled your hands over the spikes you usually held.

“I simply need to go home,” you muttered before leaning down to pat at his side. “We need to go home.”

The night air bit at your skin as he took to the skies but with each lungful you breathed in, your heart felt a little lighter. Home. You were going home. A loud rumble had you turning in your perch and you saw Vhagar behind you, slowly flapping her wings as she followed you north. If your dragon went left, she followed, if she curled east, he matched her movement. They were dancing. Then, just as you hit the border of Rosby, your dragon started to climb higher into the sky. You held tighter and leaned forward to counteract the sudden change in altitude, content in knowing he would never let you fall, and watched as Vhagar mirrored him. They twisted together for one turn, then two, and three before they both spit green fire into the air with a matching, heartbreaking roar as they leveled out. You shut your eyes against the flames but felt them warm your skin for a moment. But, as you opened them again and your dragon continued northward, you turned back to see Vhagar holding her spot in the moonlight, watching you and your dragon fly away.

The Eyrie was growing colder by the day. It would be a short Autumn. You tried to focus on the coming Winter instead of the unease you felt brewing like a storm in your stomach.

You had received four ravens from the capital. The one from Helaena was short and lovely, thanking you for the embroidered blanket you had given her before your abrupt departure, meant for her coming babe. Another was from Alicent who maternally scolded you for leaving without a proper goodbye and then immediately forgiving you for it. But, with the next line of her flourished handwriting, she told you, again, of Aemond’s wants. Alicent remained ever confusing. The next was from Rhaenyra who thanked you for your attendance at the festivities but also questioned you about your lack of proper goodbye. Much like Alicent, which should not have been a surprise to you as they shared much more than a close friendship, the Queen mentioned Aemond, although in a much more subdued way. My brother remains devoted to you, as ever.

Devoted. It was a double-edged word, you were coming to learn.

The last was from Aemond himself. I shall let you have your peace for now, my lark. But I will claim recompense soon enough.

You threw his into the fires of your solar’s hearth with shaking hands as if that would protect you. For a few days, there was the blissful quiet of the Vale. You were glad to see the resolution you had demanded between Houses Coldwater and Elesham seemed to be sufficient and Lady Waynwood was delighted to tell you that her son was delighted with the match you had made with Ser Oswin’s comely niece. It was fine. Until it wasn’t.

It seemed that you wanting to hear any whispers from Lys years ago was still bearing fruit. You heard rumblings of further discontent in Essos. When the Triarchy had dissolved after Daemon and Lord Corlys smashed their hold on the Stepstones (and constant infighting between the city states), there had been a tepid peace in the Disputed Lands…for a moment. But soon old grudges were reignited and war erupted again. Some captain, Shakaro, had been vying for the affections of the famed courtesan, The Black Swan, and had been murdered. That was only after the Myrmen and Tyroshi captains stewed in their anger that Shakaro had held back her fleet of Lyseni ships during a bloody and long battle with Lord Velaryon and his fleet—and it did seem to have a kernel of truth. The Lyseni suffered the fewest losses. But the specifics of why didn’t particularly matter to you right now. What mattered was that Lys was in the middle of a war and your uncle had tried to have you destroyed in one way or another for his own gain. The war must be hurting his coffers.

It started with whispers of a skirmish here or there in the Narrow Sea. Someone new called himself the King of the Stepstones and the northern Free Cities of Braavos, Pentos, and Lorath were quickly pulled into the war as well. It should have been a foreign war that you simply monitored via whispers or raven. But you soon received reports that the war was hurting trade from King’s Landing up to Gulltown.

You would not stand idly by when there was a threat to your people. Trade was crucial and necessary. Doubly so now with the threat of a looming winter. You flew your dragon down to Gulltown to receive their reports personally. And it was true. The blockade the war had created had spilled as far north as your shores. And while your granaries were full now, you would not have your people potentially starving in Winter because of a war you did not start.

Lord Torrent was watching as you looked over his reports, taken by his men as they sailed from Littlesister in the Bite into the Narrow Sea. You were not going to ask why his men were sailing in the Narrow Sea nor why he had a large gold necklace with a pendant stamped with the mark of the powerful Rogare family from Lys that looked like it had blood on it. That wasn’t your problem right now.

“You are estimating we have lost a dozen ships?” You let the parchment furl back into itself before handing it back to Lord Torrent.

“Yes, my lady. If not more.”

“Livelihoods were on those ships,” Lord Grafton said, stepping forward. His pallid cheeks were splotched with red, emotion he was trying to suppress. “House Grafton and the people of Gulltown will not survive if this were to happen again.”

You rolled your lips into your mouth for a moment. “I am giving you both leave to defend your lands as necessary but you may not engage further. There must be no aggression from the Vale until I am given leave from the Crown. I will not have our people die needlessly by inviting this war onto our shores.”

Your dragon grumbled at your back and both of the lords gave you a cautious look, wondering what you and your dragon would do. He was an extension of you. And while you had learned to swallow your anger in mixed company, he was still free to express it. But, as the years had passed, you thought he had learned to stymie his anger when others were around, too. Most of the time.

“My lords, I thank you for your reports and I pray the gods bless you all. I shall fly to King’s Landing to bring our concerns to the Crown.” And fly you did, telling Ser Oswin and your trusted handmaidens that they would be sending out ravens to the rest of the Vale, preparing them for the near-inevitability of war. You tried to focus on that instead of the growing, gnawing pit in your stomach when you thought of who else awaited you at the Red Keep.

Your dragon landed atop the remnants of the Pit and then took to the skies when you steered him away from landing atop the Red Keep again. He watched over you as you made your way through the city but finally deemed you safe when the Queensguard posted at the front bowed to you and let you in.

You were led to the Small Council by a grim-faced Jacaerys who met you in the hall and then shuffled into one of the vacant seats around the table. The somewhat spacious room was far more crowded than you had ever seen it, filled with gold cloaks, Queensguard, heads of noble houses and the like. Rhaenyra was the picture of regal power at the head, with Alicent and Rhaenys on either side and Jacaerys stood at his mother’s back, spine straight. There were already discussions of the coming conflict and you heard of the incursions onto the isle of Tarth and Estermont and the battering of the Stormlands, the edges of the Riverlands, the Crownlands and, much to your astonishment, Dorne. When the ruling Princess of Dorne, Aliandra, had refused to engage with the envoys from Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr, they had sent small but creative bands of mercenaries to Dorne’s shores to show their displeasure. While Dorne continued to prove itself a formidable adversary and quickly dealt with the mercenaries, Princess Aliandra wanted retribution.

And who better to help than the Dragon Queen? Their alliance was tenuous at best, everyone in the room knew it, but it was still an alliance. The Princess would arrive with her councilors within a fortnight and Lucerys blushed the tiniest bit when Rhaenyra announced that he was the Princess’ betrothed as part of the alliance. He and his dragon, Arrax, would patrol the easternmost Dornish shores. You could tell that it made Rhaenyra nervous, just as it did when she gave Jacaerys leave to patrol Blackwater Bay. Jeyne and Silverwing would remain at the capital as a safeguard, doubly so as Helaena could not fly in her condition, despite her love of doing so. Daeron and Aegon would bolster defenses along the Riverlands and Stormlands shores while Laena, Rhaella, and Rhaena were asked to fly above certain parts of the Royal Fleet as they guarded Dragonstone, Driftmark, and the rest of the Gullet, including their home of Sweetport Sound. Ser Laenor would provide coverage to Lord Coryls’ fleet as they pushed into the Narrow Sea with Princess Rhaenys and Meleys.

“My hope with all of this,” Rhaenyra started, hand curled tightly over the marble ball in front of her, “is to keep our people safe, to finish this quickly. We must be victorious.” Her purple gaze cut to Daemon as he sat in the chair opposite her. You had tried to avoid looking in that direction as Aemond was seated beside him. “Princes Daemon and Aemond have graciously accepted to fly to Essos and meet with the magisters of the other Free Cities.”

“Even Pentos?” Someone asked—you vaguely recognized him as Ser Alfred Broome. Why he was even in attendance was beyond your comprehension at the moment and you felt several pairs of eyes move to settle on you.

“Pentos was the first of the Cities to ask for aid. They know that Alios’ crimes against Lady Arryn were an abomination. Or need I remind you what happened?” Aemond’s voice cut through the tension-thick air with a vicious ease and you saw Aegon trying to stifle his smirk behind his hand.

Ser Alfred’s face went red and tried to hold the prince’s gaze for only a moment before looking down. “No, my prince. Everyone here knows of how you defended Lady Arryn’s honor.”

“What news do you bring from the Vale, my lady?” Rhaenys asked, effectively pulling the conversation into a different direction. But she, too, was fighting a smile of her own. It faded, however, when you spoke of the lost ships and the sightings of the boats nearing Gulltown.

“It seems we must truly fight on all fronts,” Rhaenyra said, grave. She then gave you an order to protect your shores and the Bay of Crabs atop your dragon and your bannermen were given leave to defend their shores and lands.

The queen reiterated that she wanted this dealt with quickly. There was a hint of darkness to her tone but no one commented on it. It stirred a strange sense of pride within you. She was the sword and shield of the Crown. She wanted her people safe, by any means necessary. You were thankful that the crowd dispersed quickly when she dismissed them, either to ready their bannermen or deliver news with the like. Before you could also take your leave, Rhaenyra called out your name and told you to wait a moment. A handful of people sent you glances out of the corner of their eyes but none had the audacity to linger in an attempt to understand what the queen wanted with you. And as the gods continued to test you, Alicent and Aemond were the last to leave, each of them giving you looks you could not decipher before leaving.

“I was not expecting you today,” Rhaenyra said, shoulders finally losing a bit of the rigidity they’d held throughout the meeting. “But I will never be unhappy to see you.” She rounded the table and took one of your hands in hers with a squeeze.

A small smile pushed at your lips. “I did not want to wait to bring you reports from the Vale. I had not known you were gathering others.”

“It was not planned to be so large, but I am pleased that you were able to attend. I am sure it was the gods themselves who sent you to me at this moment.” She sighed and squeezed your hands again. “I am also wondering why my brother has been so despondent this last moon. Could it be because his betrothed absconded to the Eyrie without a proper goodbye?”

Your breath stuttered in your throat. “I am not betrothed to Aemond.”

Her silver eyebrow arched. “That is not what he nor Alicent seem to think. And the way he behaves around you, and you with him, it does not seem as if you are opposed to the match?”

You tried to steel yourself to the fact that yet another person had been sucked into this delusion but all you could do was shake your head. “Your brother and I are not promised to each other, Your Grace.”

“It would be a fine match, though, would it not? Dragons in the Vale.” She sighed and you fought the urge to scream. How could Aemond be so adamant with this lie?

“I will fly back to the Eyrie. I-”

“Oh, you must stay for the night. Surely your dragon needs the rest, and you as well. Before this war truly starts, rest now; let me know you are safe for a few hours more.”

You could not deny her that, not when her purple eyes looked at you like that. But you did not allow yourself to stay a moment longer and left before the first light of dawn started to crest the horizon. You left missives for Alicent and Rhaenyra this time, wishing them and their children safety for the upcoming conflict.

And you meant that. You wanted them all safe. Healthy. Happy. Even Aemond. No matter his delusion and your own conflicting feelings, you only wanted the best for him. And soon you were consumed with readying The Vale for war. The armor your mother had commissioned for you still fit with a few additions and your dragon seemed pleased to see you in it. A small comfort to you both. Your mother was with you still. As was he.

Your handmaiden, a girl of barely ten-and-four namedays named Mya from House Woodhull, helped you out of your armor after your latest fitting. She had just started her duties at the Eyrie a moon ago and was a quiet, timid girl. You hoped her time under your care would bring her a little more out of her shell.

“You depart tomorrow for Gulltown, do you not, my lady?” She asked as she set one of your gauntlets atop the velvet cushion on your table.

“I do. And I know I shall return here to find the Eyrie just as I left it, in your and the others’ capable hands.”

Mya went pink with the compliment but nodded and tucked her chin to her chest. “Of course, my lady. I would never dream of letting anything go wrong in your home.”

She was a sweet girl and you smiled as you dismissed her for the evening after she helped you into your nightgown and robe. Your skin still smelt of lavender from your bath—you never could find the will to stop using the oil, even if it now also reminded you of Aemond. And you once again ignored how your chest twisted and your traitorous mind conjured his face whenever you closed your eyes.

You turned toward your bed, seeing that Mya had turned down your blankets for you as well. Sweet girl. Your pillow was cool, too, and you shut your eyes tightly as you murmured a chant to your mother’s gods. Tomorrow was the day. Tomorrow was the start. Tomorrow was…

You pushed out a breath.

A familiar roar rattled the night sky and your eyes shot open. Just as your feet hit the cold floor, a quick knock snapped against your door and Mya was bursting in again. “Lady Arryn, a dragon has come to the Eyrie.”

You knew who it was. In your bones, you knew it.

She led you out to the High Hall where you knew he would be waiting.

“Prince Aemond, my lady,” another of your knights said with a quick bow in your direction as you entered.

Aemond stood in the center of the cold hall, draped in his riding leathers and a deep, dark cloak stretched over his shoulders. “Lady Arryn. I would have a word with you.”

Your heart leapt and raced. He was meant to be leaving for Essos soon, was he not? Just as you were to start defending the Vale in earnest. What was he doing here? Before you could even think of doing something else, you mindlessly led him to your solar as thoughts raced. Had something happened? Had someone been killed?

Mya set about stoking the fire in the room before skittering out of the room with a quick, matching pair of curtseys toward you and Aemond. He, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to memorize the entirety of your apartments and lingered on the open archway that led into your bedchamber.

“What have you come to say?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think of a proper greeting or line of questioning. “Is it Helaena? Are she and the babe well? What-”

“I am leaving for Braavos at dawn. I will meet Daemon in Pentos after securing the city’s alliance and we will then move to destroy Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh’s strongholds in the Disputed Lands.”

Even as you felt your brow furrow, you nodded. That was a suitable plan for him and Aemond, the riders of the largest and most battle-hardened dragons with matching temperaments. They would be a formidable pair and cutting off their supplies should keep their focus pulled into two directions and make them easier to defeat. Hopefully.

“I wish you good fortune and blessings upon your endeavors, Aemond.” You paused and felt his lilac gaze rake down your form. “But why are you here?”

Aemond took a step toward you and you instinctively took a step back, feeling like a mouse being cornered by a cat. But your retreat only seemed to spur him on and in a few short steps, he had closed the distance between you, filling your lungs with that familiar scent of Aemond Aemond Aemond. Leather, mint, dragon, lavender.

“Would you have me sent out without knowing that I would return? You would deprive me of one last taste of you?” The tips of his fingers were firebrands against your skin as he closed his hand around your wrist and tugged you close. His breath puffed against your mouth as his lilac eye bore down into yours.

Your next breath stalled in your lungs. Gods, he was beautiful. But you could not. “I do not wish you dead, Aemond. You must know that. I only wish that you see-”

“See what? See that you refuse to accept my affections?”

“They are misplaced!” You retorted.

His grip tightened on your wrist, just shy of painful. “They are yours. My affections, my heart, my body. They are yours. I am yours. Just as you are mine.” The prince moved ever closer and the familiar burn of him enveloped you instantly. “Ask anything of me, and you shall have it.”

“I ask that you find a lady wife that will love you as you deserve.” It was your last, gentle refusal.

And Aemond shook his head. “There is no one else. There is only you. There has always only been you, my lark.”

A knock at the door had him pulling back and Mya once again stepped inside, carrying tea for you and Aemond. She smiled at you and you must not have managed to press the answering look to your face quick enough because she lingered at the table, her small fingers still fiddling with the teapot. “Are you well, my lady?”

Just for a moment, you thought of telling her to call for Ser Oswin, for the guards further down the hall. You could have him sent away, surely seeing the error of his thoughts and actions in a way he could not unsee. You licked your lips as your eyes darted between your handmaiden and Aemond. But a small movement, just a simple change of stance, had Aemond’s hand brushing against the hilt of one of the daggers sheathed at his waist. It was a silent threat, but a threat nonetheless.

And so, you pressed a smile to your face and shook your head. So be it. You would not put an innocent in harm’s way if you could prevent it. “Retire for the night. Prince Aemond and I have much to discuss. You have more than earned your rest. I thank you for your hard work.”

She waffled for a moment longer before sighing and dipping into a curtsey. “Good night, my lady, my prince.” And then she was gone and you were alone with Aemond once again.

A satisfied hum slipped between his lips as his hand slipped from the dagger’s hilt. He had won. “See how simple that was? Not everything need be a fight, my lark.”

“Simple?” You spat the word. “When you threaten the lives of the people in my care, what choice have you given me?” Your next breath stalled in your throat but you pushed it out anyway. “What do you want? You have made it so I cannot refuse you. Let us get on with it.”

Aemond moved closer still, clouding your mind for a moment with the scent of him. For just a moment, you wished that your body did not react to him in such a way. But it was visceral and unconscious on your part. It was like every part of you was simply waiting to be devoured. By Aemond.

“Take off your clothes.”

Your heart stuttered and shattered. Tears stung at your eyes as you shook your head. “That is not fair, Aemond.”

The prince smirked. “I did not ever state that I was fair.”

“You would take this from me? Unwillingly?”

“You can deny it all you want, my lark. But I know your heart is mine. If I must start with claiming your body, so be it.” He reached out and undid the velvet tie of your robe, spurring you on, before moving back, allowing himself to enjoy the view.

Your hands shook as you peeled away your robe, leaving you only in the fine silk of your chemise. Aemond cocked his head to the side, wordlessly telling you that you were not finished. You clamped your eyes shut as you reached for the straps and pushed one and then the other off your shoulders. The fabric pooled at your feet with a whisper, leaving you in just your smallclothes and the necklace you still could not remove.

And then he moved. Again, he grasped your hand and led you through your solar and into your bedchamber, to your bed as your heart thundered behind your ribs. You could do little else but stare as he undressed, revealing his pale skin and corded muscle until he was standing tall and bare before you.

It felt as if you had walked through your dragon’s fire the more you stared at him. Gods, he was beautiful. Carved from marble by the gods themselves. And then shame burned, too.

You could not want this. “Aemond-”

But he simply reached out and pushed you back across the bed until your spine pressed against the mountain of pillows you usually slept on. Your heart hammered behind your teeth as he climbed atop your bed and closer to you. His warm hands slid up your legs and curled around the plush of your thighs and a slow breath slid out from between his lips. “I have dreamt of this. Of you. I always knew you were perfect.”

What would he do to you first? Would he simply rut into you like an animal and spill his seed inside you? Or would he toy with you more? Try to-

The questions went still in your mind and Aemond simply pressed himself over you. He reached around to the back of your neck and you heard a distinct series of clicks before your necklace finally came loose. He let the sapphire drag over your heart before he set it aside and then pressed his head between your breasts. It was almost gentle. Almost innocuous. Almost the careful touch of a lover you had quietly yearned for and read about in the scandalous books of your younger years.

Then, as if you could not help yourself, your hand found the silk of his hair. You gently pushed your fingers through it and let it glide against your skin. His next breath was a slow exhale that wet your skin.

Aemond reached up and pulled the ribbon from around his head and set it aside. And then all you saw was blue blue blue. The sapphire he had used in place of his eye glimmered in the low light of your chambers, cut beautifully and cruelly; it matched the jewel of your necklace, the collar he had given you. Without a thought, you reached out to press against his cheek but he caught your wrist before you could touch him. You could see the question in his gaze, the want, the ache. And you pressed forward again until your palm rested against his warm cheek. You traced the cruel, jagged scar beneath his eye with the edge of your thumb before simply holding his face in your grasp. You could not help it. He was beautiful. So beautiful.

And the prince leaned into the touch, like he needed it like his next breath.

“You care for me.” The words were whispered before he turned to skirt his lips against the delicate skin of your wrist.

“Of course I care for you,” you murmured. How could you do anything but care for him? Even at his worst, even when his affections scared you, hurt others, you could not simply stop caring for him.

His fingers traced circles up your sides until they brushed against the soft skin of your breasts, soft but purposeful. “You told me, promised me, that I would have a dragon. You knew it.” He turned his head just enough to drag his lips above your thrumming heart. “You came, you rode your dragon hard, when you heard of the loss of my eye. You came, knowing that I would not understand that you were risking your honor and reputation to make sure I was well.” His large, warm hands cupped your breasts fully, thumbs skirting against your nipples until they pebbled. “And, despite how I know you will deny it, I know you had a hand in House Harlaw’s eradication.”

“I-”

He turned and pressed the point of his chin to your sternum so he could look up at you. “You cannot lie to me, my lark. I have mine own spiders whispering their truths to me.” He paused, lilac and sapphire anchoring on your face. “You killed for me. Because I was harmed. When my mother cried and my father refused to move against a lesser house, you killed them.”

“Your mother did all she could.”

“She did. And she called for you and you came. For me.”

And you could not deny it. You had gone, dashed to your dragon and sped through the skies to do all you could to help heal him.

But your thoughts of how you had only wanted to heal him quickly fizzled to nothing when his long fingers started to do the ties at the sides of your smallclothes. He pulled the fabric away from you and, just for a moment, brought the bundle of cloth up to his nose and he sucked in a greedy lungful of air, like he was trying to memorize the scent of you. The simple action had heat racing through you, coiling further in your belly.

But still, he set the small bundle aside and Aemond’s warm hands skimmed up your thighs again, kneading the supple flesh there as he pulled in a slow, steady breath. It brushed against you, making you embarrassingly aware of the slick that had pooled there, betraying your own ache. His nose brushed against your curls, and the pleased hum he let out vibrated against you, stealing a whimper from between your lips.

“Divine,” he murmured. You were not sure if he was speaking to you or simply about you. But it mattered little as he pressed a kiss right above your mound before licking a bold stripe up your folds. A gasp tore itself out of your throat and another came closely behind it as Aemond continued to lick and suck and twirl his tongue. He was ravenous. Immediately insatiable. Your hips lifted, either in an attempt to buck him away from your core or to pull him closer, you could not tell—but it mattered little when he slung an arm across your waist to pin you to the bed, pliant and controlled.

His tongue continued to move, delving into you and then wrapping around your clit until your chest heaved with each breath. You still leapt when you felt his fingers start to slide against the soft skin of your thigh. Aemond deftly circled through your folds, coating them in your slick. But then he moved, and you gasped as you felt the pads of his fingers circle your entrance before pressing in. Further and further he delved, as his tongue continued to pull you apart. His fingers curled and found a spot inside of you that had you keening. Pleasure sparked up your spine and your hands tugged uselessly into the fine blankets of your bed as the prince hummed against you, drunk on your taste, before pulling your clit into his mouth entirely and sucking on it until you let out a choked wail into the sticky night air. Your entire body hummed with the aftershocks but Aemond continued to lick at you for a few moments longer, only pulling back when you whimpered. He pressed his cheek against your damp thigh and looked up at you as he pulled his fingers free of your cunt and pressed them into his mouth. His eye closed as he groaned at the taste. “I will never get enough of your taste.” He turned his head just enough to press a searing kiss where your thigh and your hip met before he sat up.

His cock was rigid and long and wanting. Your heart continued to hammer in your chest as Aemond moved to press his hands on either side of your chest, staring down at you with a sense of vicious knowing. You could feel him, warm and hard against your thigh. “Aemond?” His name broke in your throat.

“I could stuff you full of my seed right now, leave you dripping. I could put a bastard in your belly and have you need to marry me when I return to avoid the scandal.” His long fingers trailed a meandering path over your womb, dancing across your heated skin. “You’d look so beautiful, round with my child.” He hummed.

Tears stung at your eyes again, for an entirely different reason. “Please…Aemond. Please do not do this to me.”

But he simply leaned down and pressed a kiss just below your navel. “I could do it, my lady. And I cannot tell you how I have contemplated it when I am alone in the dark, with naught but your memory to soothe me. But I am a man of honor. And any child I have you bear will be trueborn.” He sat straight and gently cupped your face as if he had not just threatened to ruin you. “No, I shall wait until I return to know what it feels like to fuck you. And it will be after I call you wife.”

The next kiss he pressed against your mouth was gentle and tasted sharp and sweet as his tongue plundered between your lips. A low groan vibrated against your mouth as he pulled back and it took you a stretched moment to realize he was touching himself. His hand was wrapped around his length, harshly moving up and down, up and down with a wet sound that had your core clenching.

“It should be you,” he said through gritted teeth before nipping at your bottom lip. “This belongs inside of you. I want to see it drip out of you.” His hand moved faster, faster. You could not look away. “I am going to put a babe in you. As many as you want. Make you come on my cock like a whore, my own personal whore. My perfect lady wife.” With the last word, he came, spurting his release against his hands and the warm skin of your stomach. Aemond’s chest heaved for just a few breaths before he stood straight, his pale skin pink with the exertion. You watched, heart in your throat, as his sticky fingers gathered the rest of his spend and he brought his fingers up to your mouth. “Open,” he commanded.

And you did, allowing him to press his digits to your tongue. He tasted…salty with a hint of citrus and his lilac eye was blown wide as he made sure you licked him clean. Aemond drew his fingers back when he was satisfied but still hooked his thumb on your chin and tilted your head up just enough to press a lingering kiss against your mouth with a pleased hum.

“You were perfect. Just as I knew you would be.”

He did not let you leave your featherbed as he curled his sinewy arms secured around your frame. He had cleaned you with a strip of damp fabric and delicately kissed you, now, as if he had not just debauched you so thoroughly.

Sleep sank its claws into you a few moments later, as you listened to Aemond hum against your skin. It was a lullaby. A lullaby for you.

And when the dawn came…he was gone. But your necklace was once again secured around your neck and your skin still burned from where he had touched it.

Your dragon was well fed. But you know he craved more. And you did, too.

You had not heard a single word of how Aemond’s campaign had gone across the Narrow Sea. And no matter who you asked, no one seemed to know if Aemond was successful. Or healthy. Or alive. Your one solace was hearing that the strong defenses to the south were mostly successful and a massive dragon had been spotted off the shores of Myr but that had been the end of it.

Or the start of it. It seemed your thoughts could never be free of the prince. It was a curse, truly. You wanted to see him again. Just to know he was well. And if you spent the nights alone in your tent, hand clutching the sapphire of the necklace, that was your secret to keep. It hadn’t been a lie when you said that you cared for him. You did. You do. But you were not sure when your care had mutated into this. And you could not rid yourself of the ache you now felt between your thighs and twisting in your chest when you thought of him. It was ridiculous and cruel and left you with a sense of self-loathing. How had he manipulated you into this? Into this strange longing? You threw yourself into making sure the Vale and its people were still taken care of to try to rid yourself of those warring emotions. And that was your duty. To provide. To protect.

They still called you The Flame of the Vale. And you heard more than a few of your courtiers whisper of you and your dragon’s wrath as you passed.

Sitting astride your dragon often reminded you of standing atop a rocking boat. Waiting and moving with each of his long, slow breaths. He was an extension of you, and you of him. Both of you stared at the horizon, waiting for the telltale sight of foreign ships. You knew they were coming and you itched to meet them. This was what you needed, what you wanted. You could be a dragon now. You could be cruel and rage and reduce something to ash without care for your reputation.

Only one band of Myrish corsairs had made it ashore and they had been quickly met with the might of the Vale. All others had been reduced to ash in their boats or torn apart by your bannermen’s fleets. But more had come, trying to catch your forces unaware just before dawn. Your dragon’s roar had rattled the very ground, nearly drowning out the alerting horn blasts along the shore, warning all of you of the sneaking threat.

And now, as the sun beat down on the bloodied sand and water, you felt that biting sense of savagery continue to grow. “Dracarys!” you bellowed, diving out from above a cloud and setting ablaze another ship. Green flames danced along the wood and the screams that followed were almost musical to your ears. Another ship came and met the same fate and another and another. But the Lyseni fleet was nothing but tenacious. You had counted five scorpions—four had been destroyed before they could be fired but the fifth-

Your dragon turned abruptly with a screech and a drag of green fire lighting up the clouds. And you felt the scorpion bolt rush by your head. You let out a frustrated scream as you steered your dragon back around to dive down down down toward the ship that had just tried to kill you both. And your dragon echoed your scream with one of his one before bathing that ship in his green fire as well.

But you should have known. Should have known it was too easy. Just as you turned to set your sights on another ship, another bolt barely missed your head—you felt its fletching tear across your face. And then another was shot, clipping the edge of your dragon’s wing but doing little more than agitating him. And then another and another. To your horror and rage, you realized there was a line of small ships just cresting over a large wave, a scorpion tethered to each of their bows. For a stretched moment, you watched the sailors hurry to load their weapons again. They were not going to stop. And neither could you. With your heart in your throat, you chanced a look back toward the shore, watching the few ships that had managed to get through your line of ships and dragon fire start to batter the waiting knights and bowmen on the shore. Your men were holding them back, but you knew that you must keep them from being overwhelmed. You needed to protect them.

You urged your dragon forward with a shout and you heard the sailors screaming for the others to hurry, to shoot, that they were going to kill you and your dragon. But you could not stop. “Angos!” You cried and you instantly felt the rumbling of his growing fire beneath your legs just as another bolt shot past your dragon’s neck, and sprayed your armor with his boiling blood as he reared back, angry, for just a few breaths. But another bolt came and you had to dip down until his feet dragged in the sea for you to avoid it. But they were getting closer closer closer. Your dragon spit his fire at the first ship, turning its crew and scorpion to ash to be washed away.

“Turn! Turn! Turn!” You heard the sailors bellow.

You turned your dragon toward them, watching as they hauled their scorpions to the side, still aiming for you. But, just as you watched one of them pull back the bolt, green fire from above drenched the ship, snuffing out their screams. And your dragon let out a pleased rumble as you craned your head up to see Vhagar descending like a leviathan from the clouds above, dark and terrible and beautiful. As she turned left, you and your dragon went right and in just a few moments, the last of the scorpions and their crews were gone. The ancient she-dragon then turned toward the shore and swept away the invading forces in more green fire. You could hear the cheers from the shore, celebrating with you. Tilting your chin up to feel the sun and smoke on your skin, you saw Vhagar swooping toward you again and without your steering, your dragon moved to mirror her. The massive dragons were achingly delicate in their movements as they turned and twisted, pulling higher and higher into the sky and clouds. They were dancing. Together. An exhausted laugh bubbled out of you at the realization.

It came crashing down on you then, that your dragon was happy. You were alive. The battle was over. And you let your hands peel away from the spikes that served as your reins and held them out straight, letting the air sweep through your fingers. This was freedom. Your eyes closed for just a moment, allowing yourself to revel in the ash-covered victory, but they snapped open when you heard Vhagar’s distinctive screech. She circled left and your dragon flew right and you turned your head to see Aemond in the saddle, his silver hair mussed by the wind and his mouth tilted into his familiar smirk.

He was alive. He was here.

Your dragons eventually leveled out and slowly made their way toward the shore, the very tips of their large wings just barely brushing against each other as they kept each other close.

“Dragons!” Someone shouted as you drew ever closer. The crowds below, victorious and celebratory, darted away from the shadows your mounts created.

Sand spit beneath the pair of dragons as they landed and your dragon rumbled, pleased in several ways, as you slid from his back. Aemond descended the well-worn ladder of Vhagar’s saddle and you watched as he rolled his shoulders back before turning toward you. And your heart leapt.

And you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate it now.

But you still refrained from wanting too much. He was still so young. And you were…you.

Before he could take more than a half dozen steps toward you, he was surrounded by knights, thanking him for his help and lauding in the victory with him. You watched the smallest of smiles pushed at his mouth. Yes, this was his victory, too.

The camp was soon devolving into a somewhat refined celebration of the battle won. Food was carried in from the nearby Gulltown and set up on tables along the beach that now looked more grey than golden. But no one truly cared, not when the mead and wine were passed around and stories were shared of battles not soon forgotten and the honor they had earned. The cut on your cheek was cleaned and bandaged, and would leave you with only a small scar according to the healer. But it was Aemond’s low voice that you listened to, listened for, over the din of the revelry.

He and Daemon had easily secured the allegiance of Pentos, Braavos, and Lorath, before also managing to have Qohor and Norvos join their ranks as they moved into the Disputed Lands. It had been a bloodbath.

“Her Grace wanted this dealt with quickly. My uncle and I were happy to oblige.” His eye anchored on you on the other end of the long table and your grip tightened on the thick tankard in your hand.

Swallowing your pride, and the other rising feelings, you stood and raised your drink. “To Prince Aemond, Prince of the Realm, and hero of the Bay.” The crowd cheered and raised their cups, too. “And to each and every one of you, of my knights, the finest of the Seven Kingdoms: the Realm will speak of this day and of your bravery during this war for ages to come!” The crowd cheered again and the music that had been played in the background grew in earnest volume, letting the merrymaking continue and grow.

You hadn’t spoken to Aemond since you landed. And with every passing second, the sapphire around your neck grew heavier. This was wrong. All of it. You knew that. Aemond’s feelings would fade and yours had been so muddled and confused. You needed to be free of this all. After graciously accepting a few of the toasts given in your honor, you dismissed yourself back to your tent.

How had you become this? Hadn’t Aemond hurt you? Nearly forced you? But hadn’t he also kissed you softly and kept every single one of his promises? As you pressed a damp strip of cloth to your neck, you tried to clear your mind. Tomorrow you would be back in the Eyrie, away from it all. You just needed a bit of peace. A bit of quiet. Guidance. You pulled a small dagger from the dark of one of your bags and raked it across your palm as you settled on your knees in front of the small fire in your tent.

The undulating language your mother once sang to you felt a little stilted on your tongue, but you still continued on, asking for guidance, asking for peace, as you raised your bleeding hand above the fire and let the crimson drip into the flames.

One.

Two.

Three.

You sat on the weirwood throne, a babe on your lap. The little one’s hands drummed against your protruding stomach as they let out a happy giggle, lilac eyes alight with joy.

“Be kind to your mother, my son.” Aemond was at your side, reaching out a hand to cup the back of the little one’s head. “She is delicate right now.” And then his lips brushed against your temple and-

“My lady!”

You pulled back with a gasp, your skin burning from the flames. You curled your hand against your chest with a hiss as flashes of the vision danced on the backs of your eyes. Turning toward the sound of the voice, you saw a man standing at the entrance of your tent, his face hard and furious.

“The whispers are true! You’re a witch! A defilement of the Seven!”

You teetered to your feet. It felt as if all your limbs had been weighed down with sand and your tongue was useless behind your teeth. “I am n-not a witch, my lord. I-”

“Do not deny it! I have seen it and I shall make sure that all of the people who swore fealty to you were-”

The rest of the words were gargled as blood filled his mouth. Aemond stood behind the man, a bloodied dagger in one hand, the man’s tongue in the other. You hadn’t even seen his approach and your knees nearly knocked together as he moved to press the tip of his blade against the man’s throat. “You shall speak no word against Lady Arryn at all. And if you think to write it, I shall have your hands next.” He then grabbed the back of the man’s jerkin and all but threw him out of your tent. “Get yourself to a maester. I’ll be sure to tell everyone that you were too into your cups and mistook your blade for your fork.”

The man stumbled away with a wet cry and Aemond turned his gaze to you. He tossed the man’s tongue into the fire and set aside his dagger as he strode toward you.

“Aemond…” His name was a weight on your tongue.

“Did I not tell you that I would protect you? That you were mine to hold?” He reached up to press his thumb against your quivering mouth before he pulled in a slow breath. “I have a gift for you.” He led you to sit at the small table near your bedroll and then grabbed at a dark bag he must have dropped near the flap of your tent earlier. He set it atop the small table and opened and…

It took you a stretched moment to realize what he had set in front of you. The hair was grey, longer, too. Age had lined his dull orchid colored eyes and he still wore a single gold hoop in one of his ears. This was…

“Aemond…”

“He will never threaten you again.”

He had given you the head of your uncle.

You had not asked for it. Had not entertained the thought of killing him with anyone aside from your dark daydreams in years. “How…” the question trailed off. “Why?”

The prince did not look away from you as he answered: ��I swore to you that no harm would come to you, did I not? You refused to become a kinslayer but he was no kin of mine.” Again, he reached out to hold your face as he stood above you. “I care not that you have secret rituals and gods to which you pray. I want you and all of your shadows.”

You had prayed for peace and guidance and the blood and flames had shown you Aemond and children. He had carved a man’s tongue out for you. He had bathed your enemies in dragonflame when they thought to shoot you from the sky. But, gods, there was a darkness to his affections for you. But were you not a child of shadow, too?

You stood from your seat and Aemond’s hand fell from your face for a moment, allowing you to be the one to reach out now. Your fingers shook as they pressed against his cheek. His scar was scalding beneath your thumb. “Any children we may have would not carry the Targaryen name. They would be Arryns. You would have to defer to me for counsel whenever another house came to the Eyrie to settle a dispute. I cannot and will not ask you to lower yourself in such a way-”

Aemond all but snatched your hand from his face and pressed it against his chest, letting you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Let me be the one to judge if something is lowering myself, my lark.”

You shook your head but couldn’t find it in yourself to take your hand back. “Aemond-”

“Your mother was a Targaryen to her core but carried the name Arryn. You were born in Lys and adopted the House and its colors only after you were named heir. You ride one of the largest and oldest dragons in the world. You may be called an Arryn, my lady, but you are a Targaryen. You are the Blood of Old Valyria. Our children, no matter their name, would be the same.” He moved closer, until you could feel each of his breaths against your mouth. “I love you, my lark. I have loved you since I was a boy and I shall love you until my heart no longer beats in my chest.”

Tears started to cloud your vision as you nodded. He loved you. There was no escaping it. And perhaps you loved him, too. With that thought, you surged forward to press your mouth to his.

The wedding was a grand but small affair. Well, your second wedding was. The first had simply been you and Aemond on the shores of Dragonstone, wed together in the Valyrian tradition with blood on your mouth and staining your tongue. The second had been in the small sept of the Eyrie, after the Daughters’ War had officially ended and the Realm was at peace. He draped you in a cloak embroidered with a three headed dragon, stitched in blue. His color. Your color.

Both of you refused a bedding ceremony. And it was probably for the best as Aemond certainly took his time taking you apart on his tongue and then again on his fingers before finally sliding his cock into your velvet vice.

His thrusts were slow but powerful. Stars burst behind your eyes with each of them, only coupled with his wet mouth clamping over your neck, the swells of your breasts, anywhere he could sink his teeth. He hauled one of your legs into the crook of his arm so he could drive deeper deeper deeper into you until you would swear you felt him in your throat.

“Do you feel me, my lark?”

“I…” Sparks of pleasure were cracking at every nerve ending and hazing your mind until that was left was Aemond. “I feel you.”

He took you three times that night, leaving you gasping and leaking of him. Sated. And, despite it all, because of it all…happy. Little Rodrik Arryn came screaming into the world less than a year after your wedding. It became a regular occurrence for anyone visiting the Eyrie to see the little lord asleep on his father’s chest as Aemond sat on the Weirwood throne beside you. When he reached his sixth moon, Aemond secured Rodrik to his chest and climbed onto Vhagar’s back, letting his son have his first flight on the oldest dragon in the world. He did the same when Artys was born a year later. Your vision had come true.

It had been a conscious decision for you both to give your children names native to the Vale. But, when your daughter was born, it had been a mutual decision to bend the rules. A subtle nod to Visenya and your mother.

“Lady Vaella Arryn!”

The crowd assembled in the High Hall cheered as you held your daughter close, nestled safely against your breast. One of her small hands was tightly curled into the soft fabric of your gown and she let out a short whine when Alicent came to hold her granddaughter.

“Well done, darling,” Alicent cooed as she let the babe get comfortable in her arms. “Oh, she is just as perfect as your boys.”

Aemond hummed and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. You could feel his smile against your skin. “Of course she is.”

When the guests had retired for the night, Rhaenyra being the last as she sang a Valyrian song to the giggling babe to help settle her, you heard a familiar rumble come from above. Echoing elation nearly consumed you as you sped through the halls of your castle until you were in the gardens and staring up at your dragon.

“Have you come to meet her?” You asked, holding Vaella close with a smile.

Your dragon grumbled, as if this was not his idea (and as if he had not come to meet your sons, too), and moved closer, his uncareful steps spitting rocks and trampling flowers. But you hardly cared. Holding Vaella a little higher, you smiled as he neared her, bright green eyes focused entirely on the small bundle in your grasp. The elation you felt settled in your bones, a far cry from the panic you’d felt only a few moons ago when you’d given birth. He always worried over you. But he knew you were happy and he was happy, too.

“This is Vaella.”

He rumbled in greeting and Vaella reached out a tiny hand toward him with a gurgle of her own. He then nudged at your hip, as softly as he could, until you got the hint and strapped Vaella to your chest and climbed onto his back and held tight.

“Just a few turns, yes?”

An answering plume of smoke curled from between his teeth and then he took to the skies, letting the winter air sting your cheeks. But your daughter smiled contentedly up at you, letting out a happy sound as your dragon burst through a cloud. She would be a fearsome little one. You knew it.

The Vale, even as the last vestiges of Winter were slowly slipping away, was prospering. As were the Seven Kingdoms. As part of the alliance with Dorne, Rhaenyra declared the Stepstones were granted to them. Lucerys was a fine consort to Princess Aliandra, and it seemed that Dorne had accepted becoming part of the Seven Kingdoms. They retained their titles and their customs and Rhaenyra seemed pleased that she would rarely have to mediate any of the disputes between Dornish houses anyway. As long as Lucerys was happy, Rhaenyra was happy. Jacaerys and Helaena had welcomed Prince Aerion just at the war’s end and then Princess Rhae soon after. Aegon and his Lady Farwynd were starting their own family on their remote island and Jeyne was busy planning her wedding festivities to Lord Stark, set to be held on the first true day of Spring. Rhaenys was pleased when she announced that Laena had given birth to another girl, a beauty named Alysanne, and Rhaenyra proposed a tentative betrothal between Aerion and newest addition to House Sunglass. Daemon and his wife and daughter had been invited to Pentos as guests of esteem and they were taking full advantage of it. Daeron was on his own adventures, too, discovering the secrets of Qohor and hoping to visit Qarth soon, as well.

Yes, the realm and your family were at peace.

Aemond was waiting for you as you landed, a teasing smile on his face. “My ladies are courting scandal by staying awake at such an hour, out of bed.”

You laughed and stole a kiss against his mouth as you dismounted and your smile only grew as he bent to kiss Vaella, too. He stood straight and your heart clenched as you looked at him, your husband. You no longer fought against the feelings he conjured within you. He was all you wanted, him and your little family.

“I love you,” you murmured against his mouth after putting Vaella in her bassinet.

You felt his smile against your lips before his hands curled over your hips and he dragged you close. “I know, my lark.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought of it all! I have a side-story Aegon and Lady Farwynd coming soon(ish) and two more Aemond one-shots on the docket, too.

[marika-misc]

Mental Health & fandom

tw : mentions of Neil Gaiman and JK Rowling, mentions of suicide ideation (in the past)

Note : this is my personal musing and should not be read as facts or an universal truth.

(very long post)

I was never - ever- able to casually like fictions. When I like something it becomes a safe place of sort. A refuge if you will.

As far as I remember, I have been an avid reader and a lover of fictional worlds in books, movies, tv, podcats, etc.

For me, works of fictions have always been more than just pieces of media to consume. They are a get away when things get too much and they often feel like the only thing that can comfort me in a time of need.

I love more or less every kind of fictions. I have pet peeves, yes, and things I can't/won't read or watch, but I love them anyway because I know they bring comfort to other.

I like it so much, that it became my job (I'm a librarian) and nothing makes me happier than a patron telling how they enjoyed something. Even if I don't like it and wouldn't read it/watch it myself. I love when people like things.

So, fictions can't be a casual enjoyment for me. They are part of me and of what I am. When I like something, it consumes me and spreads through every aspects of my life. And yes, sometimes it's a little bit too much maybe ? But, so what ?

For me, being alive is a choice I make every day. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's not, most of the time it's neutral. Being alive is hard. Life is hard. And the world is a violent, messy and loud place. So, if fiction helps me to keep going and find joy in this life ? Hell yeah ! Who cares ?

Numerous works helped me through the years to stay alive and deal with changes.

When I was 8, it was books by Enid Blyton. When I was 10, it was books by Agatha Christie and Gaston Leroux When I was 13, it was Titanic and Celine Dion (ilu Celine) When I was 15, it was Gundam Wing for 6 months When I was 17, it was Prince of tennis for about a year But between 14 and 25, it was mostly Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Globet of fire was the first book I read in english. It took me 6 months, with a dictionary. It was also my first real foray into the world of fanfictions. I had read some before, but with HP, I binged like crazy. I read in french and in english. I printed pages and pages of fics in my highschool library. And I made arts. Lots of it, now lost in the ether.

I re-read the whole serie every time I had to go through changes. It was with me when I moved 500k away from where I grew up and helped me through 3 house moves.

At 25, I moved from HP to other fandoms, but it was still very dear to me and I kept going back to it from time to time. I was on the waiting list for Pottermore for example and still occasionnaly binged fanfictions.

When JKR started to be more vocal with her bullshit, I was chocked and disgusted. I felt betrayed. And it was also the first time that I felt like I was a traitor for enjoying a thing. I couldn't be a good ally if I admited to like HP, right ? So I gave away my books and stopped interracting with the work. I even started to judge people who still bought things HP related. Because HOW could you still give money to her ? But deep down I kind of understood how difficult it was to part with something that meant so much for so many of us. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to give her money and I don't plan to. But it's easy to judge other and forget that the real piece of shit is JKR, not the fan who buy a gryffindor pair of socks and/or write fanfiction after a grueling day at work. It's unfair to have this purity weight to bear all the time and judge people for how they chose to interract with a thing they like. And it certainly doesn't do much to tell people how to feel and how to be "good".

Also, being an ally is not just refraining to buy something HP related. But it's a whole other subject.

Anyway, after HP, I started to fall even harder in the fandoms I was a part of. A fair number of them being "problematic".

First thing first, liking a "problematic" media is ok imo. I know they are not perfect and I acknowledge it. I'm still allowed to like them. Nobody can dictate how I feel.

Second thing : some of these fandoms saved my life. Glee litteraly stopped me from jumping in front of a train and for at least two years, Merlin was the only thing bringing me a little bit of joy.

Nobody can take that away from me.

Recently, Doctor Who and Our Flag means death prompted me to go to therapy again and made me realize A LOT of things about myself.

And there is Good Omens. Good Omens is my current hyperfixation and really what kept me going these last few months. I fell and I fell HARD. Probably because I needed fiction to keep myself afloat and it was there for me. It's kind of funny, because I had read the novel more than 15 years ago (I came to it when reading a lot of Pratchett) and even if I liked it at the time, I still liked other Pratchett's works better. It all changed with the tv show. I wouldn't say it's better than the novel, but it's different and the changes made (and also the fact that DT is in it, lets be honest) spoke to me a great deal. So I became invested. And I began to create again. After years of art block and only drawing sporadically, I was drawing nearly every day and finding great joy in it. Good Omens kept me alive and gave me my creativity back. It was (and still is) so important to me, that I decided to get a tattoo of the first two sentences of the novel. It's a whole design with a book, a sword, a snake and apple blossoms. It goes from my right shoulder to my elbow. I got it done in april.

Three months later the allegations against Neil Gaiman came out.

It hit me hard. Harder than with JKR. And I wasn't even a fan of his. But what he did (because I chose to always believe the victims) horrified me and made me angry. So angry. Angry for the women who suffered first and foremost, but also angry for the fans who grew up with his words and now feel so betrayed and overwhelmed by what is happening. And I'm angry for myself. Very selfish of me, I know. I'm angry, because Good Omens is my safe place and I have now to fight to keep it that way. It still brings me joy, but it also brings me anxiety and seriously fuck you Gaiman. Fuck you. Fuck you for tainting a source of joy and creativity for me. Fuck you for dirtying Terry Pratchett's legacy. Fuck you for being an abuser and proving again and again that none is really safe in the world we live in. I hope you'll pay for what you did, even if I know you will probably not.

This is so not good for my mental health. Also, how do you cope when you have the words inked on your arm and are reminded everyday of the shitshow going on ?

I hope Terry Pratchett wrote them. Not you. But how would I know ?

I talked about it with my therapist because my anxiety was out of control (again) and we did some EMDR work on it. It helped me clear my head a little and reminded me that I was not in the wrong to love something and to find joy in it. I agreed to wait at least a year before deciding if I wanted the tattoo to be covered (not the snake, sword and apple blossom part ; the book part). I could do it now, I even have some designs in mind, but I'll wait to be certain and not take a rash decision because I'm hurting. I will not give him my money anymore, but I don't want him to take the joy and comfort I find in Good Omens away from me. I won't let him. I won't let anyone.

I don't want to do what I did with HP again. I don't want to negate something I love and which brings me joy. So I will rip this book and show from his dirty hands and keep them close to my heart where it's safe.

Maybe it's not being "good" or "moral". Maybe I shouldn't separate the art from the artist and preach for Death of the author. Maybe.

But I'll do it anyway.

My own moral compass is strong and I will not deny myself again.

[bluecatwriter]

Jonathan: Do I have to read it, oh my dear one?

Me: (cries)

Jonathan: "I will keep my mouth as it were in a bridle: while the ungodly is in my sight. I held my tongue, and spake nothing: I kept silence, yea, even from good words; but it was pain and grief to me. My heart was hot within me; and while I was thus musing the fire kindled."

Me: (cries harder) Do you have to remind me!

OKAY BUT THE INCLUSION OF THIS LINE HAS ME GOING FERAL

(Theological ramble incoming. You have been warned.)

Jonathan is reading from the Book of Common Prayer, but the scripture is Psalm 39. (I originally thought that this was a quote from Jeremiah 20:9, which uses similar language to show the prophet's frustration with burning up inside if he refuses his call to prophesy, but this is even better.)

The psalmist here is a great example of how people's responses to God in the Bible do not fit neatly into the "unquestioning obedience and reverence" framework any more than Jonathan's actions do. The narrator of this psalm speaks despairingly about the vanity of life, begs God to stop heaping hardship on him ("Remove thy stroke away from me: I am consumed by the blow of thine hand"), and while he expresses near the middle that his ultimate hope is in God ("And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee"), he also flat-out asks God to leave him alone (the last line of the psalm in King James Version says "O spare me, that I may recover strength/before I go hence, and be no more," though I love the more modern translations such as the New Revised Standard version, which reads, "Turn your gaze away from me, that I may smile again/before I depart and am no more").

It's a gut-wrenching psalm that doesn't flinch from the realities of life: things feel meaningless, hardships are heaped on those who are faithful, humans are fragile, riches cannot safeguard against death— and the right to rage and weep before God is a given. It ends not with the line of hope from the middle but with a challenge to God, and the main conflict of the psalm is not resolved or neatly tied up. Like all the Wisdom literature in the Bible, it invites the readers to sit in the tension and the confusion and the pain, rather than hastening on to a "correct answer" or even a sense of resolution.

I assume this is why it's included in the Book of Common Prayer's burial service: death cannot be tied up with a bow, or smoothed over with platitudes. This psalm expresses solidarity with people from every generation who have tried to make sense of their hardships and pain and the devastating reality of mortality.

Anyway, inclusion of this line in this scene was absolutely stunning. I suspect that many of Bram Stoker's original readers would have familiarity with the burial service since it would be read at every funeral, so adding in the words was wonderful to enhance the experience for the modern non-Anglican reader. This passage helped drive home how thematically resonant these words are with what's happening in the story in the moment. Very cool.

[xxsycamore]

Can you do Mozart & wet dreams?

Träumerei

╰┈➤ Mozart has never allowed himself as much as to think of her romantically. Strangely, his most recent dreams are all but lascivious, and twice as confusing. träumerei [noun, german] - dreaming

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart x MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Wet Dream; Mutual Pining; Feelings Realization; Denial of Feelings; Love Confessions; Miscommunication; Fainting; Hand & Finger Kink; Vanilla; Dream Sex; Ambiguous/Open Ending • wordcount: 1,104 • masterlist

• Welcome to my personal kinktober challenge, Visions of Temptation 2022 - that’s right, 2022. You can find the new one, Visions of Temptation 2023, here. DAY 3: WET DREAM

"Mozart… Mozart, touch me more with your hands, please…!"

It would be too easy, the composer muses in his thoughts, but he can't find it in himself to deny and tease her anymore. It warms him from the inside when she craves him so, his hands, his touch, so much that she's writhing underneath him. But when she lets out these beautiful moans, the spark of warmth blooms into a consuming fire.

"You love it so much when I touch you. You don't need to beg me. If you want me to touch you, then undress and show me where you need to be touched."

***

"No, that's all wrong. Did you not pay attention when I showed you? Here. Look."

Deft fingers dancing on the piano keys, Mozart repeats the chords with ease in yet another demonstration. His gaze moves on her even before the last notes can fill the air, making sure she's paying attention this time.

Even if it does things to his head, being this close to her.

Given that she was in his dreams just last night. Dreams that were not so innocent...

"I did, it's just… it seems like I was watching you play the piano, and not the notes you play. Tehee…"

His hands. He's not the type to seek eye contact, but more often than he catches her looking back, he catches her looking at his hands.

***

"I want more…I need more, please…please, Wolf!"

It catches him by surprise, how naturally it came out of her mouth. In contrast, her face is burning, gaze not as bold as her tongue, making him want to rain kisses on her hot cheeks. She needs to understand how happy she just made him.

He keeps moving inside her, gently removing the hands she tries to hide her face with. He needs to make love to her more, to give her more until she's pliant and spent and satisfied in his arms.

"You finally said my name." Betraying his own wishes, Mozart finds more appealing spots to press his lips against other than her face. Her neck, where her blood pumps in a rhythmic pulse; the metronome telling him to play her like a melody; to eat her one fang-filled bite at a time. "Keep saying it. I want to hear you say it more."

***

"Where do you want me to put those, Wolf?--Oh! I m-mean, Mozart! I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful! It just slipped out and-"

Something he didn't expect to hear outside those dreams that haunt him. Just an accident. Merely a slip of the tongue.

"That's fine, don't apologize. Are you okay? You're shaking."

She puts down the folded sheets where Mozart points her to, hurrying to find anything else to keep her hands busy with and mask some of that trembling. While nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she unknowingly barrens her nape for Mozart's gaze.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…couldn't sleep well last night."

"Me too. Be careful not to overwork yourself."

***

"Wolf… I actually… have feelings for you-…No that's awful! Too straight to the point. Ugh. Wolf, I…."

Listening in disbelief, Mozart is overtaken by all sorts of emotions. Her confession came out of nowhere. But she's so finicky about getting it right, she just keeps saying it again and again.

"The truth is, ever since I came to the mansion, I found myself attracted to you and before I knew it… I was truly in love. I grew up with your music, and hearing it has always soothed me in times of- Nonono, what am I thinking? I grew up with it? I'm definitely not saying that part!"

And from finding himself embarrassed, Mozart now finds himself letting out chuckles he can't control, so much unlike him. His heart feels so light, glowing with the newly discovered reciprocation of his feelings.

"I knew that already… you were being pretty obvious, you know. To think that I doubted it still… Hurry up and settle on your confession so I could make mine, would you?"

***

Today she's nowhere to be seen, and for good. Downing another cup of coffee, Mozart hopes he could drown those pestering, illogical feelings in the bitter liquid along with what remains of his sleepiness. Concentrating on his work has never been this hard and he hates it; the sound of ruckus coming from downstairs joining in the cacophony of distractions until he gets up from his desk and goes to check it for himself.

He sees her then, unconscious in the arms of another man who luckily broke her fall. Somebody answers Mozart's horrified gaze with a brief reassurance that she'd most likely overworked herself and it's nothing any more serious than that. The residents are shocked when it's none other than the composer himself who insists he'll take care of her and carry her to her room.

It's maybe on the way there when he realizes, or maybe it's when he finds himself tucking her in under the covers.

Her room, that is adjacent to his.

Her bed, which is positioned in a way that is mirrored to his own, with only a thin wall separating the headboards.

His keen ear as a composer. One thin wall…

"M-Mozart…"

Her glossy eyes stare at him under heavy lids, gradually widening as if in disbelief.

"Idiot, you're going to work yourself to death. How long has it been since you last had an adequate amount of sleep?"

He's no good scolding for this with those most likely noticeable dark circles under his eyes, alas.

"Alright, alright, I'll rest! I'm closing my eyes the second you go through that door! Jeez…Hey Mozart?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for— Are you okay? Your face is red…"

It's funny how fast the tables turn when her hand touches his forehead in an utmost caring manner, and Mozart has to remind that she might be too warm herself to accurately check for him. And judging by the way she has the energy to frown and bark at him, it must be okay now for him to take his leave.

"I'm right nextdoor if you need anything."

"I know where your room is, Mozart…!"

"And one more thing." He keeps his hand on the doorknob, turning his head to look her in the eye one more time. "Next time you have trouble sleeping because there's something on your mind, just come see me."

The only answer he gets is a shy nod that comes after a rather long pause. And it's satisfying enough of an answer.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @ndoandou Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[roguerambles]

MK Alluring Sorceress!Reader Intros

Mortal Kombat - Female Reader x Multiple

Okay, so I've been on a fighting game kick recently and under the influence of a certain someone (*cough* check out @icy-spicy she's awesome *cough*) I've been looking into a lot of Mortal Kombat.

I've also seen a bunch of these "Reader Intros" kicking around and wanted to try my hand at some!

I'm picturing Reader as a sorceress, a bit of a wild card, not really good or bad, but is determined in achieving her own goals. Pretty and clever and alluring and well aware of it too. I might try and do something with her if I can find the muse haha.

This is just sort of me experimenting a bit, I don't know if I'll try more.

Enjoy the rambles!

-

Shang Tsung vs Reader

Shang Tsung: "We have much in common, you and I."

You: "I'm prettier, smarter and more powerful than you."

Shang Tsung: "Let's agree to disagree, my dear."

-

Shang Tsung: "Your skills are impressive."

You: "You hardly need to tell me that."

Shang Tsung: "But they pale before a true master."

-

Shang Tsung: "Your charms are no match for my power."

You: "I will enjoy seeing you on your knees, Shang Tsung."

Shang Tsung: *laughs* "I confess to thinking the same thing."

-

Shang Tsung: "Submit, and I will give you anything you desire."

You: "Funny, I was just about to say the same to you."

Shang Tsung: "Perhaps we may both yet win."

-

Kuai Liang vs Reader

Kuai Liang: "The Lin Kuei will not bow to your whims."

You: "You will soon enough, handsome."

Kuai Liang: "Hmph."

-

Kuai Liang: "Does your magic protect you from the cold?"

You: "I find body heat a more enjoyable method for all involved."

Kuai Liang: "Your charms will not protect you from me."

-

Kuai Liang: "You seek the secrets of the Lin Kuei?"

You: "Tell me, and my gratitude will heat that cold blood of yours, Kuai Liang."

Kuai Liang: "Only if you prove worthy."

-

Kuai Liang: "Your recklessness will be your undoing, sorceress."

You: "Kuai Liang, are you flirting with me?"

Kuai Liang: "Draw your own conclusions."

-

Jax Briggs vs Reader

Jax: "You wanna share what you're up to this time?"

You: "We could share many things, Major Briggs."

Jax: "Not when I'm on the clock."

-

You: "Just how good with those arms are you?"

Jax: "Surrender peacefully, and I'll show you."

You: "Ooh, Major Briggs..."

-

Jax: "You don't want this."

You: "On the contrary, I want you quite a bit."

Jax: "Now you're just trying to make me blush."

-

You: "There are so many other ways we could get physical."

Jax: "I'm listening."

You: "Come closer and I'll tell you..."

-

Shao Khan vs Reader

Shao Khan: "Join my concubines."

You: "I do not play second fiddle, Shao Khan."

Shao Khan: "I do enjoy a jealous woman..."

-

Shao Khan: "A woman like you deserves a man like me."

You: "I could use a man like you at my beck and call."

Shao Khan: "Ha! I like your fire!"

-

You: "Kneel before me, Shao Khan."

Shao Khan: "I kneel before nobody."

You: "You will beg for me in time."

-

Shao Khan: "You cannot resist me for long."

You: "Sounds as though you are the one who cannot forget me..."

Shao Khan: "You will be mine!"

-

Johnny Cage vs Reader

Johnny: *whistle* "Where the hell did you come from?"

You: "Your wildest fantasies, handsome."

Johnny: "Damn, I am in trouble."

-

Johnny: "Any chance we skip the fight and go grab a coffee?"

You: "Surrender, and I promise you won't regret it."

Johnny: "That's really damn tempting, I won't lie."

-

You: "Serve me, and I can offer you rewards beyond your greatest imaginings."

Johnny: "You're killing me here, sweetheart."

You: "Not yet."

-

Johnny: "You don't steal souls, do you?"

You: "Why don't you come closer and find out?"

Johnny: "...well mark me down as scared and horny..."

-

Liu Kang vs Reader

Liu Kang: "You must temper your desires before they consume you, sorceress."

You: "You should indulge in desire before you wither, monk."

Liu Kang: "...that felt a little uncalled for."

-

You: "I would hate to ruin that pretty face, Liu Kang."

Liu Kang: "We need not be adversaries."

You: "Alas, you persist in getting in my way."

-

You: "We could work well together, Liu Kang."

Liu Kang: "Perhaps, if you would exercise a little more self-control."

You: "I could teach you to loosen up, to begin with..."

-

You: "How is Kitana doing, these days?"

Liu Kang: "Oh, she...she is well."

You: "Oh, look at you blush! Such a lucky girl."

[gauloiseblue]

For though I am a sinner / You call me to your table.

(König × Reader)

[May contain: heavy religious imagery, obsessive behavior, murder]

Credit to @rainlovesyou12

When he was six, he witnessed the rite of communion for the first time. As his brother approached the altar, the priest announced, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”

His brother whispered a few words he couldn't catch, before he stepped forward to receive bread and wine.

He didn't understand what the ritual was, or what the purpose of it was. But he looked up and saw that his parents smiled, almost too proudly.

At eight, the church adversely taught him about it.

He was crying, screaming, as his parents dragged him to the altar. The priest's eyes were cold, as he spoke the same verse his brother received. When he resisted, his mother yanked him by his arm and forced him to look into her eyes. She was angry, and it's a loose word for what she exhibited that day.

When he stood in front of the table, tear-streaked, and trembling, the priest took a piece of the bread, and offered it to him. With his hands clasped, he muttered, "Lord I am not worthy"

That morning, he retched up the blood and the body of Christ.

He wiped off his mouth, as he lifted his head from the toilet bowl. The sour taste of the wine still lingered in the back of his tongue, and he bent down to wash his mouth with running water.

He didn't understand the joy of union with God through communion. It was dreadful to think that, by consuming a part of Christ, one could lead a salvation. But why would you take a part of someone else when all your life you never knew him?

His mother loved Him, and she loved Him more than her own son. She visited the church day and night, recited her praises in front of the wooden cross, where the statue of Christ watched upon her, cold and motionless. His father was a stern man, and he'd remind him of all-seeing God, who'd always watch him from above every time he misbehaved. They believed in salvation, and they believed in sins. For the only people who's versed in God's orders were them.

Rejecting a body of Christ might’ve put a curse on him, as he's blind to the doctrines his parents taught. Turning your gaze from your mother when she talked was a sin, but looking away when the priest took a young boy into a room wasn't a sin. Yet his brother understood it, and he had no choice but to obey.

And he tried, he tried to be good. But it's never enough in his parents' eyes.

It wasn't until he's old enough, that he had the courage to leave the house. Carrying all of his belongings, and all of his sins.

He rejected God as he rejected His salvation, but then again, he had rejected Him the moment he spat out the bread and wine. Without the eye of God upon him, he's freed from the sanctions. No more Hail Mary or Our Father prayers, just him and his conscience.

He relished in his freedom, venturing outside the tiny box he once called home. It's easier to live without the fear of God. In his line of work, he couldn't afford to worry, even just for a second. His parents might be horrified to find out that their son had abandoned the way to heaven, but he's content, content with the way he lived.

Yet it only lasted for long, before he saw Him in every face.

When he stood in the war, with his hands bloodied and bodies by his feet, he often mused on the possibility that they were once a child of God. Did they swallow His flesh, when the priest placed a part of Him on their tongue? Did they feel at peace, after knowing that the blood of Him would lead them to salvation? And would he, as an apostate, burn in endless fire after killing many of His lambs?

Sometimes he stared at his ceiling, wondering if the omniscient one was looking at him through the pale light.

They said God is present in every lights

In every ray of the sun,

In every glow of the moon,

Yet the darkness still creeps

From the long shadow

The light creates

He received a new contract the next morning that required him to fly across the ocean. He accepted it, without knowing what was in store for him.

Between the light and the dark

There's a boundary where

The dark would collide

With the whiteness of the light

Leaving a gray line

Where two forces

Dance in eternal war

Right after the touchdown, the chopper came to a sudden halt. He snapped out of his thoughts, as he looked out the window and saw the base from afar.

When he stepped out of the aircraft, he was greeted by a blinding light, before it all died down once he winced. As his vision adjusted, he noticed two figures approached him. One's stone-cold face, and the other one wore a striking white uniform, that he almost mistook them as something else.

The new commander was a stern man, the common kind that one could find everywhere in the military. But his eyes wandered to a rare sight beside him.

You greeted him with a smile, something that he's not quite used to. You held a clipboard in your hand, and he could tell that your job was closely tied to the item. The commander noticed his attention and cleared his throat.

"This is (Name), she'll help you move to your room. Meet me at the office when you're done."

And so, he followed after you.

You were warm, and polite. You made small talk with him without prying too much, and he found himself relaxed in your presence.

When he had stored his things away, you took him to the office, where the commander had waited for him.

The briefing was short, since he had read the files on the way here. But one thing that struck him was the silence from the man when he brought up the secretary.

Once, he was told that anything outside the contract is none of his business, but he couldn't help but be curious. Why the lack of response? What was it about you, that he was reluctant to share?

It didn't take long before he found the nature of your relationship with him.

Alas, the sun has to set

And the dark would triumph

As the shadows march

Towards the horizon

Till this day, he can't find the reason why someone like you would hand your life to a man as cold as him. Even when the answers are already splayed out on the table. It's not hard to piece them together when soldiers' tongues were loose, he just had to say a word, and they'd immediately take the bait.

When the world is shrouded

By the darkness and black

Could the Almighty

Blame humans

For turning blind?

When he saw you sitting in the kitchen, alone, with your head hung low, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. He laughed at himself when the thought of comforting you crossed his mind, but what kind of human he was, if he didn't feel any sympathy for you?

It's an open secret that you had a loveless marriage, and yet, you stayed with him, despite of the rage that your husband showed that morning.

He'd understand if you wished to throw out your frustration to him, but when you saw him by the table, you offered him a tired smile.

After all,

Humanity

Would always be

Lost

Without its shepherd

"Why didn't you leave him?"

Your face stayed the same despite of the intrusive question, since it's nothing you never heard before.

"Because I chose it that way." You mused, "I don't think you'd understand. I owe him my life. I wouldn't be here if it's not because of him." You told him as you looked at him in the eyes, "Without him, I am nothing."

And he was silent. Silent as he turned, and left you behind. Though he wore a mask, he knew that you saw him. You saw through his false front.

That day, he dreamt of his mother. Her voice echoed, as she chanted her praise at the altar. The devotion in her eyes, the adoration for the Savior whom she owed her life to, awakened the ghastly side of him.

Your devoutness evoked the memory of his own past, ripping his earth open, as the molten rock poured into the land. An ugly jealousy, for something he could never had.

Sentiment.

Something that the commander deemed as unnecessary.

He felt his eyes darkened whenever he witnessed the man's apathy, but his heart would scream at the slightest affection his commander showed to you.

He'd carry this envy until the day of the big Ops.

While Adam bore the title

Of the first Sinner

It was Cain who was the truest,

The most hideous Sinner

For he killed not to survive

But to satisfy his envy

The soldiers were briefed on the possibility of death, or imprisonment due to their carelessness. The commander shouted that it's not an ordinary mission, and everyone is responsible for their own safety.

A sentence that'd become his own doom.

When they infiltrated the enemy base, he knew the possibility of the enemy having bombs planted on each floor. Not to slow them down, but to bury them to the ground.

It wasn't his negligence if he didn't warn his commander about it.

He wasn't an advisor after all.

By the time they discovered the explosives, it was already too late.

He was with the commander when the whole buildings shook, with cracks began to form on the walls. He yelled at the man to follow him, as they made their way out of the room.

As they raced towards the window, a heavy rubble fell through the ceiling, onto the commander's leg. He cried in pain, as the protruding steel dug into his flesh.

"König—" He called out when he stood there, unmoving.

He could've saved him—he should've, but he chose to remain still.

"König." The man looked at him, as suspicion dripped from his voice. Seeing him in that state caused a vile feeling to rose from his chest, as he bared his teeth into a grin.

"Should've said your safety is my business."

His commander's eyes widened, and his jaw tightened into an angry snarl. "Which side is it that you work for?"

"No one."

The man screamed his name when he turned, before a sickening crack filled the room.

He got out just as the building collapsed behind him, swallowing the lives of unfortunate men who were still inside.

The main objective of the mission was reached, but what greeted them at the base was silence. There were no cheers or pats on the back, just a heavy silence.

Many soldiers were injured, and the infirmary wasn't prepared to handle that many. Which pushed the other staff to be one-night medics, and you were no exception.

He only suffered a minor injury, so he could only watch you run in and out of the room from afar.

Of course, the pleasure was short-lived

Since his hatred for his brother

Had nowhere to go anymore

When he found you the next day, with your food untouched, and tears stained your cheeks, he felt his heart squeezed with remorse.

He approached you, as if you were a lone figure—whom, he could confess to and repent—at the confessional. He'd recite the Holy Mary prayers for a thousand years, if that's what it takes for him to be forgiven by you.

But when you looked at him, your lips formed a small smile—the same smile that you gave to him back then, before he pried into your privacy.

"Have you eaten?" You asked him, and he almost ripped out his skin, so you'd see the sins that were carved into his bones. "Come, sit with me."

You took a small bread from the basket and carried it close to his hand, before placing the bun into his palm.

And he understood. He understood the utterance one had to say at the God's table, when they received the Holy supper.

When he brought the bread to his lips, he muttered the soundless words he couldn't deliver,

"Lord, I am unworthy."

[mechaknight-98]

Gathering Side Story: Bonehoard Dracosaur

Authors note: I'm sorry @okaylikesmomo I'm using your muse for a little bit, but I promise I'll take good care of her. This is probably my most out-there piece and takes my best and (worst traits) as a writer to their logical extremes which works for this specific project so enjoy.

I got a call from Kkura before the mixer. She asked my status on helping with the mixer and I explained to her that Astrid and Emma were “going through a rough patch.” so my status was not currently on priority.

“Ugh ever since she started dating her she's been so annoying.” Sakura Groaned. There was a gap after

“Uh, Kkura Did you need anything else?”

I waited for a moment then heard “Yeah can you babysit Chaewon for a couple of days?”

I pause and think to myself how to respond to this. What would be “tactful” and what would be “appropriate” but ultimately I kept being hung up around the fact that Chaewon was a grown woman. Then I realized maybe I heard wrong,

“Did you mean Eunchae?” I asked patiently

“No I meant Chaewon.” sakura said matter of factly

“Kkura Chaewon is a grown-ass woman,” I responded

“Yes, and you've seen her she so. What does Jen say? Baby coded” Sakura responded

“Kkura I am going to ask this once…why?” I said

“Chaewon will be lonely because we all have schedules and I don't want her alone at the dorm. Don't worry we’ll make you look like staff if privacy is an issue.” Sakura answered

“That's not the… you know what fine. I'll do it but you owe me.” I responded

“I know. See you tomorrow?” sakura said pleasantly. I could almost hear her smug smirk.

The next day was arduous and prolix at work so when I arrived at the fimmies dorm I was drained. When I had finished I made the journey to the Le Sserafim dorm. I arrived at half past noon there time and knocked on the door.

I heard a cute whine of “Who is it?” Before responding “The pizza guy.” The door opened and Chaewon smiled (probably because I brought pizza) and let me in. After I set the food down on the dorm counter Chae held me tight for a solid 5 minutes. Then after breaking the hug smiled and stared at me with those big soft brown eyes, and said “I missed you Sho.”

“Oh, using my middle name are we? I should have never told you that.” I teased.

Chae’s eyes light up with competitive energy. “It’s only us here.” She fired back.

I relented and said, “fair.” Chae’s eyes softened and my heart fluttered with the look she gave as she held me tight.

“I missed you Sho. Why did it take you so long to visit?” Chae asked, and I gave her an honest answer

“I wasn’t invited and I didn’t want things to be awkward between Sakura and I. So I waited for her to reach out.”

Chaewon didn’t like that answer and said, “Why didn’t you ask me what I wanted? We could have hung out like old times!” Her fiery tiger was coming out and if I wasn’t careful she was going to shift on me right here and now.

“Listen palm top tiger if you wanted to hang out you could have called me instead of avoiding me.” Chaewon’s fury didn’t extinguish but was greatly diminished by my statement. Chae scoffed before saying

“You’re lucky you’re so kind.” As she walked away my mind was consumed and confused by that emotional moment. Does Chaewon like me??

Nah there’s no way. I thought to myself as I took my seat next to her. She opens the first pizza box and then turns to me surprised. She happily grabs a slice and takes a bite. Her eyes widened as she said “Mmm so good” before taking another bite

As we eat I ask her about her upcoming comeback. Chae’s eyes light up

“It’s good I’m so glad Fimmes are excited and enjoying the trailers. Also (Chae looks around) don’t tell anyone this but we’re planning a world tour.“

I squinted at Chae then said “I…uh who would I tell. Y’all are pretty much my only friends who would care.” Chaewon laughs and then looks at me with sad eyes.

“Hey, you do film stuff right like Screenwriting maybe my mom could help you get a job out here,” Chae says in a tone that was unfamiliar to me coming from her.

“Okay, Chae if you think it will help I will do it your way.” Chae’s eyes widen in such fervor that she says

“Okay let's visit my mom after we finish eating!” she exclaims

“Wow, there tiger don't you think this is a lot to spring on your mom in one go?”

“No!” Chaewon said flatly. I laughed as she leaned into me as she ate. After she finished her slice she began to sniff me, I turned to her and her eyes flashed red.

“You smell wonderful I bet you taste good too. She said before licking my neck seductively.

*I forgot that Chaewon is a weretiger and that this weekend was a blood moon. So Chae might not be fully composed for the next few days.*

She used her surprising strength and pinned me to one of her dorm walls. Her grin was cute but her energy was ferocious. “You taste so sweet.” she cooed her eyes blood red. She opens her mouth after saying “I want you in my pack.” she bares her fangs as she starts to partially shift. I'm paralyzed by her pheromones, but I know I can't let her turn me because I have no self-control so I try to get her back in control.

“Chae, Chae boundaries,” I say as she nears closer and closer. Before her eyes went back to their normal yellow tiger eyes then to the soft brown. Her eyes stare into mine as she slowly recollects herself.

“So what's going on?” she asked a bit disoriented.

“Oh nothing you just told me you had a crush on me.” I teased.

Chae rolled her eyes and said, “Please you? I'd never, but since you're already close.” as she finished her retort she hugged me again. After that she had me go with her to visit her mom. It was a cold winter day so we both bundled up. Chae as always looked adorable and I got that weird feeling in my heart again. Thankfully for me, the trip to her mom’s house was quick so we weren't in the cold too much. When we arrived her mom was surprised to see me (obviously I'm a random black dude) and joyful to see her daughter.

“Mom!” Chaewon exclaims happily as I follow her in.

“Hey Chae Chae,” Chaewon’s mother said. Chaewon’s mother was smiling brightly till she saw me her smile dimmed slightly. “Who is this?” her mother asked

“Oh this is Percival Showa Carmichael, but I call him Sho. He's my friend who I'm hanging out with this weekend.”

“Um, Chae this weekend is the order Elders’ assembly. You can't “hang out” this weekend.” Chaewon’s mother said. Chaewon’s eyes narrowed then she had to excuse herself as she needed to take a call. Leaving me alone with her mom. When Chaewon leaves her mom’s eyes narrow and she stares at me with furious eyes.

“Why are you here?” she asks coldly. It would have been intimidating if she wasn't tiny like Chae

“As a favor to Sakura mostly but also because I like Chaewon’s company.”

Ran-hee (chaewon’s mom) eyed me maliciously, “Really you're not here looking for a job or any other benefit.”

“Personally no, but your daughter wants me to stay but your daughter came here to ask, and with their being a blood moon. I figured it's best to not give her any issues this weekend. I'm not saying no to anything from her. Going to feed her at regular intervals and make sure she is taken care of this weekend so I'll make it out alive.”

Ran-hee’s eyes flared red as she stared at me, “You know of our condition.” I nod which enraged Ran-hee more somehow. “What's in it for you?”

“Honestly I don't know. I get another favor from Sakura but to be honest I have like 5 of those already and have no idea how to cash in on them.”

Ran-hee looked at me confused then asked, “So you have favors from Sakura, but come to me for help on your account.”

I blinked several times and then said “holy cow you're right. I had been so focused on being a good friend to the Fimmies that I never considered myself in their lives. Especially since Sakura got Connor and Dexter all those Fearless Kkura episodes.”

Ran-hee laughed hearing me go through my thought process before saying, “I see why my daughter talks so highly of you.” now it's my turn to look at her confused

“She's met me 5 times before though”

“Yes, and it was enough to make an impression. She says you're aggressively kind-hearted and an exceptional friend. You are absent-minded though.” Ran-hee proclaims

“Oh yeah, I get that a lot.” I respond “I am a little tired but thank you for the kind words though.”

Ran-hee nods then her tone shifts, “Since you know about my family’s condition I will warn you. She will expect you to go with her to the Elders’ assembly this weekend, and you best watch your back. The other packs may not take as kindly as my daughter’s hand is highly prized.” I nod at her warning. Then I realized the implication.

“Oh uh, Chae and I aren't uh.” I stammered. Ran-Hee laughed at my discomfort like a big catch watching its prey squirm before going in for the kill

“You know you are the first male friend my daughter has brought home singularly,” Ran-hee explained “so she must be comfortable with you. I'm curious what you think about my daughter.” realizing I had been pinned by a woman in Chaewon’s family for the second time today. I stayed silent in hopes of avoiding saying something silly but Chaewon's mom’s gaze was unrelenting. Thankfully as I was about to break Chae walked in.

“Oh, Chae your friend Sho was just telling me how he'd be happy to go with you to the Elders’ assembly.” Chae’s eyes grow bigger than I've ever seen and hugs me.

“Thank you,” Chae repeats while hugging me.

I see Chae’s mom shoot me a teasing smile before she mouths “Good luck” I loosen up in Chaewon’s grip. She in return hugs me tighter.

“So Chae what caused your visit?”

“Oh, Chae Chae you mentioned you had something to ask me before you left what was it,” Ran-hee said as I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, I was wondering if you knew anyone looking for a cameraman because Sho is looking so he can stay in Korea.” the two ladies began speaking in Korean faster than I could understand so I just stood there as Chaewon’s sapient teddy bear listening to the sounds of their voices. After Chae and I left back to her dorm. When we arrive she changes back into a crop top and sweatpants, I sit on the couch while she does this. When she finishes she walks back into the dorm living room. Her eyes are lidded as she approaches. Her pheromones are overwhelming as she sits next to me.

“Hey Chae is everything alright I ask.”

Chae smiles, “You're so sweet caring so much for me.” as she speaks her eyes flicker between a vibrant gold and a vibrant red. “You've been so supportive,” Chae adds as she begins to cling to my body as she does she looks up at my eyes.

“Hey Sho what happened to your eye,” Chae asked. She was the first to ask about it since it happened.

“Um remember that military sans frontier liberates situation a few years ago.”?”

“Yeah, some mercenaries took over California and turned it into a militant war state, but were defeated by a group of guerilla fighters who….oh my God you were a Guerilla fighter!” Chaewon concluded.

“Kind of.” I responded Chae scowled, “What do you mean kind of?”

“Well, I found the Phi Codex Nanite and pushed both Militias out of My home.

“Wait so you're not a nexo?”Chaewon asked

“Nope… I lie because no one believes me when I tell them the truth.” I explained

“But I believe you,” Chaewon said nestling closer

“Well you're the first,” I answered

Chaewon stopped getting closer when our heads touched. She smelled sweet like fruit. Her eyes locked with mine.

“Well, why would you lie? About that.” Chae asked. I nodded at Chae who smiled at me. Her eyes were bright red. She moved in closer. Any closer and we'd be kissing.

“Chae you're close,” I said

“I know but you're not telling me to move.” Chae chides

“Chae. I…” I stammered

“Can you stop thinking for a moment and just feel? I know you “turned your heart off but tell me what do you feel right now?” Chaewon said. Her pheromones overwhelmed me and I kissed her all my rational thoughts were gone. Chaewon returned the kiss with even more fervor. Her fire was only rising as she intensified the kiss. When she broke it a trail of saliva connected us. Chaewon licked her lips before saying “You're mine now.” she said with lidded crimson eyes and then her eyes went back to normal well the regular gold then brown, but her pheromones still bathed the entire room so I was panting as she broke from the kiss.

“Oh, Sho what's going on your breathing is so heavy. Still not fully recovered I kissed Chaewon again. She yelped in surprise this time before pushing me off.

“You what the heck dude, you can't just kiss me like that,” Chaewon yelled. As her pheromones dissipated I responded

“Chae you have been blasting me with mating pheromones for the past few hours.”

Chae rolled her eyes until she sniffed the air and then said “Oh god is that why it smells like…oh that's me.” she said as realization hit her. She looked at me ashamed. “I am so sorry I have been having “episodes”

“Of you blacking out and waking up moments later.” I finished

“Wait how did you know,” she asked

“Chae you're a true alpha,” I say

“No that's just a myth. I'm just a new omega variant” she said meekly

“No Chae. You are a true alpha.” I explain

“But then why do I have all the pheromones and abilities of others…”Chae started

I stopped her before she could get going then interjected “Chae I know it may seem far-fetched but can I ask that you trust me on this.”

“Okay fine. So what do we do now?” Chae asked

“Well, what do you want to do?” I asked Chae

“Can you keep it a secret during the assembly?” I nod but something is bothering me about our dynamic

“Hey, Chae do you have romantic feelings for me?”

“What no why would you think that we are friends,” Chae said stammering

“Chae” I repeated

Chaewon looked at me with misty-eyed tears beginning to well within her big brown eyes which made me feel guilty, “No I don't besides how can I feel any kind of way when you had feelings for Kkura, plus you're never around anymore.”

“Chaewon!” I exclaimed firmly which caused her to yelp and then break down into tears.

“Why did you have to have a crush on Sakura? why wasn't I good enough? Why did you leave me?” Chaewon pestered me with questions as the tears began flowing. She also began hitting me but they weren't hard. I wrap my arms around Chaewon. I hold her tight as she sobs. Something about this felt familiar, but I couldn't place it.

I look down into her big brown eyes. I hold her face softly then kiss her again. This one is certainly less aggressive the the pheromone-fueled one earlier and hopefully established how I felt about her. When our eyes opened and we broke this kiss she looked at me startled and then she regained composure.

“What's wrong?” I asked

“Nothing thought I saw something but probably just a trick of the light,” Chaewon answered putting me at ease.

I nodded and then asked her if she still wanted to date so there was no confusion about how I felt or where I stood whatsoever. Chae smiles and then nods quickly. I smile back we stand there awkwardly in this hug trying to figure out what to do next for a few minutes as I didn't expect this to happen. Eventually, we just sat down and cuddled. I know Skinship was a huge thing for Chaewon and Sakura so I let her indulge to the fullest. Thankfully she wasn't pheromone blasting me so nothing escalated

“Hey, whatever happened between you and Ahin? You went to that party with her, and we heard nothing else.

“Oh right, I forgot to tell y'all. She was dating the CEO of the company she models for.” I explained and Chaewon nodded “She just wanted to let her friend Kim Lip have a +1 for the party.” I added

Chaewon gave me a confused look“So what happened between you and her ?”

“Literally nothing. I tried to make sure she had a good time but the language barrier was a bit of an issue.” I answered along with a shrug.

“Yeah, you're Korean needs work.” Chaewon said smiling, “But it's okay though. I'll help you learn it in no time.” Chaewon smiled

A little while later we both fell asleep together on her dorm’s couch I woke up to a sudden gasp by Chae

“We should build a pair of two-headed giant commander decks,” she said,

I squinted “Chae that's the nerdiest and dorkiest thing you've ever said. Of course, let's do it.”I said as I watched Chae’s face turn from sad and defeated to jubilant and joyful.

“Okay let's start with themes. Do you have any ideas that aren't in the color combinations of Naya, Esper, Jund, Sultai, Jeskai, Mardu, and Abzan Grixis?”

“So you want complimentary Bant and Temur decks?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there are limited themes I could come up with; creature combo, creature feature, and Voltron maybe are what comes to mind. What did you have in mind, any commander preference?” I ask Chae

“What's Creature feature?” Chae asked confused.

“Creature feature is a deck centered around mainly one Creature type or subtype that is structured around the synergies of said creatures. Originally it was called “tribal” but that was deemed an obsolete term so they call it something else I'm just going to call it creature feature as that's easier to explain than having to go over the discussion which is the popular term now. ”

“Okay but how did you come up with the name “creature feature”” Chaewon asked curiously

“Well, love (Chaewon rolled her eyes at that sarcastically) around the 1950s or so there were these films in the US that were typically horror films centered around one Creature. These films were usually feature length so the Genre became known as Creature Features. I think it gets the principle across and rolls off the tongue a lot better than Typal Kindred or whatever the new term is.” I said

“Creature Feature. I like it” Chaewon said Smiling. I gave her a thumbs up and Chae lit up excitedly and then said, “Yeah let's do that.” I nod then get to work. I start building a dinosaur deck which Chae laughs at.

“So now we’ll have two dinosaur decks in the mix.”

“Let me guess Dexter is running the other?”

“You got it,” Chaewon said with a smile as we spent the rest of the day testing and adjusting to make sure our decks were a well-oiled machine together. She built Rigo Streetwise Mentor, and I built Owen and Blue. Surprisingly the decks worked well together. Mostly the support pieces but turns out my putting in last March of the ents and Ghalta stampede tyrant was also a big boon to her. Her big walls gave me the resources needed to have some truly explosive turns. She also loved my flicker shenanigans which helped her consistently push ahead since a bunch of jet creatures had impressive etbs. In the end, Chaewon smiled and then said, “Woo finally done.” I nodded and went back to the pizza that was still there

“Mm mashta,” Chaewon said as we finished the rest of the food and snacks. As we finished Chae got up and beckoned for me to follow. She pulled me into a comfortable hug (even though I was taller) and she said, “You know tomorrow you're going to have to fight in our rituals right?” I nod. Chae looks up at me and then says. I know it will be difficult but can you try not to hurt anyone?” I nodded and Chaewon smiled. After that, we got ready for the night. Chaewon insisted I sleep in her bed with her but also on “no funny business.”

“Well then don't Pheromone bomb me and we won't have issues.” I teased. Chaewon hit me lightly and said, “Yeah no teasing.” I nod and spoon her to sleep. I dream I was a dinosaur being chased by a large pale bear, and when the bear caught me it said

“You need to remember” but before I could do anything else I woke up to Chaewon ruffling up my hair.

“You ready?” she asked with a vibrant smile. I nod. As we got ready the other Fimmies entered the room. All but Kazuha were surprised to see me. Kazuha was the first. She walked in and said our greetings before she left. She asked me to keep Chaewon on time which I was more than happy to do. Next was Eunchae who needed eyeliner from Chaewon’s room. I handed it to her which caused her to yelp in surprise.

“Civy Oppa,” Eunchae said perplexed. I gave a silent wave. Which caused her to smile Mischeviously

“Unnie did you and Oppa…” Eunchae asked before trailing off. She didn’t say anything but the implication was there.

“Yah Manchae!” Chaewon yelled which caused the other Fimmies who hadn’t already been in the dorm to enter.

“Oppa?” Yunjin said as she came in. Sakura was the last to come in she saw me and then said “What?” After that Chaewon had me get in the shower while she explained everything to her members afterwards Sakura and Yunjin cornered me before leaving

“Oppa why did you kiss Chaewon yesterday?” Sakura asked

“The first time or the second time or the third time?” I asked.

“The first time duh,” Yunjin asked

“Because Chae has no control over her pheromones and she had to blast me with them throughout the day, but if you’re worried about that being the only reason it’s not. She asked me why I didn’t choose her when I first met you all. So I asked if she even still wanted to date me. She said yes. So I chose her.”

“Percival!” Sakura exclaimed. I knew it was serious because she made the effort to say my first name. “You can’t just go playing with her heart like that.”

“What?”

“You can’t be this dumb with how smart you are. you can’t use your Chae to get to me.” Sakura said. I was taken aback by that response so me having a response to that was not easy.

“I uh what?”

“Don’t try to deny it you haven’t reached out in almost 8 months and you magically want to date Chaewon now?”

“Um, Sakura what was the last message I texted you?” I asked

“That you needed time and space to work on yourself,” Sakura answered

I groaned and reached to my phone to see if I still had the messages. I did and handed my phone to Sakura

“Dear Kkura I’m good let’s hang out again sent October 27”

Yunjin looked at me and then at Sakura. “Um, Unnie why didn’t you tell us this?” She said confused

“I never got this message,” Sakura said confused

“Well, I hope I’m in the clear because we built matching decks for two-headed dragon. I’m committed to Chaewon now.” I replied to which Yunjin laughed and replied

“That’s so cute.” I gave Yunjin the thumbs up as she smiled. Chaewon eventually finds me and asks what we are talking about.

I grab her tight in a hug before saying, “Oh just telling them about our new decks.” Chaewon pouted before hitting me.

“Babe it’s supposed to be a secret.” She whined. I smiled

“Look honey it will be fine they don’t know anything else except that we built new decks.”

“Okay but no more saying anything else. Got it?”

“Of course love.”

With that weird situation over we left the dorm to meet up with Dexter and Connor. After that, we all arrived at the assembly location. It was a place on Jeju Island that was separate from public access so it would be quiet. Hopefully.

I open the door to the assembly for my friends which draws a lot of looks from them.

“That door can only be opened via the aura of a were person. how did you do that?” Dexter asked.

I shrugged and gestured for everyone to get inside.

As we walk in I see some familiar faces. Well familiar in that I've seen them on a screen it's all of Izone. I watch as both Chae and Sakura squeal before running to their friends. I smile until I hear an oddly familiar voice say “Showa?”

I turn to see Donna and several memories (many of them painful) flood back into my skull

“You did this to me!” I yell as my blood starts to boil and I take a step toward her. flames begin to burn holes in my clothes

“Turned me then left me to die,” I yelled as I took another step. The left side of my face began to bubble pop as my skin began melting off.

“They made me a monster hybridizing me with everything they could find.” another step as my bone extended outside of my regular skin and was replaced with new molten flesh.

“That wasn't even the worst part. they made me hunt others and kill and kill and kill.” my voice trailed off as my skin melted off in molten sludge and then the rest of my human body exploded like a volcano leaving my Dinosaur Dragon form

“Look at what they made me. Look at what you made me!” I growled as the air burned around me. Donna looked at me in terror. Before I could move 7 elders came in front of me

“Halt!” one demanded

“What pack are you with? Who is your alpha?” another asked. I chuckled and turned my head a full 108 down

“My Alpha is right there,” I said pointing to Donna however before I could announce that I didn't have a pack another familiar voice said,

“Stand down he's with me.” every turn around another” Donna approached. I knew this Donna as my boss Voruna.

the elders stood down and one of them said to Voruna, “You'd better keep your beta on a short leash.”

Voruna turned to the Elder and pointed to me, “You see his eyes. Do those look like the eyes of a beta to you?” she said coldly. “Don't forget your place I am still a primarch,” Voruna says. She then turns to me and chuckles. “I'm surprised to see you here Caliban, but it's good that you're here I need your help. So shift back.” Voruna says swiftly. My anger dissipates into the emotional equivalent of a groan. I shift back and turn back to my friends who were looking at me shocked, “Sorry guys duty calls.” I say as I follow her. Chaewon however wasn't pleased with that answer and ran to me.

“Wait Sho (rats she called me that in public) what just happened there?” She said standing in between Corina and I

“Chae it's a very long story.”

“Then shorten it,” Chaewon said unmoving her eyes went red and her pheromones began to flow. These weren't mating ones, however, but submission ones.

“Chae I.” I stammered as the Alpha in me was beginning to come out again at being challenged by a “lesser one, but my heart wanted to talk to her.

“Sorry Mrs Kim I need your boyfriend for a moment I promise I'll give him back to you, and I am in a bit of a hurry.”

Chaewon stood firm, a glimpse of her back to her Izone days as one of the tough-as-nails makes.

“Oh not intimidated? I like it. Okay, I'll throw you a proverbial bone. My sister Donna turned you boyfriend because he would become an ancient. However, before she could welcome him to the circle The Machinist found him. They had him do some very bad things without his consent, but thankfully it was to some very bad people. However, having an ancient unaccounted for was still a mess. A mess my sister made of course but being the kind older sister I am I found him and cleaned him up. Now I need to properly “pack him” As you can see he is an Alpha with no pack.” Chaewon’s eyes widened but she relented on the condition she could come with. Which led to everyone following. Voruna groaned but let everyone follow. Eventually, we came to an Alpha-only meeting. So everyone who wasn't an alpha had to hang back due to the “charm” on the outside. So needless to say Chae got a few stares when she galavanted in with me.

I get stares on the back end when we enter the meeting. I see Karina talking to a guy I don't recognize but they seem friendly. They approach Chae and I (Voruna left to ameliorate some other issues )

“Hi, Daewon. Hi Karina.” Chaewon says as they walk over

“Chae?” Karina says surprised Chaewon nods proudly

The two of them start speaking Korean faster than I can keep up. Daewon approaches me skeptically and says “So you Voruna’s newest clean-up project.” I shrug.

“You're pretty nonchalant for someone who almost everyone is going to be gunning for. I mean going after Chaewon whose alpha abilities despite being an omega make her highly sought after and being Voruna’s lapdog. Everyone is going to be itching to face you in the rituals.” Daewon says

I yawned disinterested and said, “Look boss I know you mean well but I'd just like to put some things into perspective. 1.) Okay so everyone gunning for me, as far as I can tell I'm the only ancient. 2.) I am used to fighting apexes no one else here has probably even seen one. 3.) I've been fighting alone for so long against impossible odds what's another set of em” Dawson smiled then said,

“I like you I hope you win. We need more revolutionary Alphas.” taken aback not expecting to agree with Daewon goes back to Karina when she says,

“Oh honey the meetings are about to start.” as the two of them walk away I point to Karina and Daewon

“Fiancee” she mouths. I nod in understanding. The meeting starts and I can feel all of the hostile eyes on me. I felt isolated Alone like when I was taken by the machinists. I was merely an object of malignant interest to these people. As my rage began to swell I felt a hand forcibly open mine and grip it. I look over to see Chaewon biting her nails nervously. She looked to me for security so I had to push my rage down and offer encouragement. I caressed her hand and Chaewon’s distressed frown became a hopeful smile.

“First order of business. We have a new Alpha to introduce today.” Voruna says. Which causes me to snap my attention to the center of the hall.

“Caliban why don't you introduce yourself to the council of Elders?”

I nod and say, “Hello My name is Percival Showa Anderson. I'm from California…” before I could say anything else a fist slammed on the table from one of the elders

“Why are we acknowledging this monster.” the elder said. I tried to hide my smirk. I reveled in being called that because if I was feared as a monster they'd be less courageous in facing me, and cowards often roamed in packs.

“Ask Donna she turned me,” I reply all eyes turn to the Daylight Primarch.

“Why Donna?” the same elder who's challenged me twice before asked.

“Because I saw he was going to be an ancient and we needed the power. I never expected that any of what happened would.” I look into the eyes of the daylight primarch and surprisingly see remorse and sadness. I swallowed hard as maybe I was too harsh on her earlier. I softened the menacing aura I brought into this and eased my mind. Leaning into Chaewon I smile at her and she does the same back. I can tell she's worried

“Don't worry it will be fine,” I say.

[iwanderthroughthesenights]

I am particularly intrigued by each of the bonus tracks because as we saw with Midnights, the fact that these songs usually remain mostly within the fandom because they're more shielded from the radar of the "general public/locals" gives her a lot of freedom to be even more honest and raw, and also to address topics that are more uncomfortable and/or controversial (see: all the tracks in the 3am edition).

We know The Black Dog is most likely referencing impending depression. I'm so curious to see if it'll talk about that period of all-consuming sadness that happened after the breakup and the rebound, or if it will actually be about a period where she was deeply depressed during the last years of their rs OR, which is what I feel is more likely for some reason, if there was a period where both Taylor and Joe were very depressed but together, bc of something that happened that they had to face together and were both deeply sad about. The death of a loved one, the loss of something, the end of a period of time where they were both happy in their rs and had the right balance, a disappointing outcome to something one or both of them worked really hard on, the crumbling of something they were expecting or looking forward to that ultimately couldn't happen. So many possibilities, these are just very general descriptions.

We know a big aspect of their dynamic was being sad together and reflecting about life, often through that sadness. In LPSS, when explaining hoax, Taylor talks about how she thinks a part of love is "who would you be sad with?". It's quite interesting how this is such a strong recurrent theme in the art she made with Joe as a muse. "I'm with you even if it makes me blue", "Don't want no other shade of blue but you, no other sadness in the world would do", "The rain is always gonna come if you stand in with me", "I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm, if your cascade ocean wave blues come", "Those Windemere peaks look like a perfect place to cry", "I want auroras and sad prose", "I wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed", "You don't really read into my melancholia", "Tears on the letter, I vowed not to cry anymore if we survived the Great War", "why don't you rain on my parade? Shred my evening gown, read my sentence out loud, cause I love this curse on our house", "how long could we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?".

[pursuitseternal]

“Recalling:” update to ETL Astarion x Tav(OC) in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x F!OC | E | 3.5K Dark Tragic Backstory

Summary: dawn before battle, Cordehlia ponders her past, recalling the monster she was… reassured by her companions that even monsters need someone to lead them, accept them, and in Astarion’s case, lust for her…

Dawn, Goblin Camp raid, Rescuing Halsin, Unaliving the Goblin leaders

CW: Violence, bloodshed, blood kink(umm vampire), trauma bonding with Karach and Astarion, Dark

Backstory for our F!OC, massive amounts of flirtation with the Vampire, effective use of the Tadpole as a way of communicating said Dark Backstory with everyone, NPC character death…

Previous chapter | ao3 link | Astarion Masterlist

Chapter 5: Recalling

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

Dawn kissed the woods, the soft light breaking, making the Emerald Glade really, truly verdant. Aptly named, Cordehlia thought to herself, sitting atop the knoll. She looked down into the sun. It had been decades since she had last stared into the sun, the dawn before battle.

But old habits die hard, as she knew. And a hundred years of shedding blood became more than muscle memory for her. A hundred years of the same pleading before her blade tasted flesh, begging for forgiveness, begging for mercy from the lives that would be taken today.

Pleading that when she falls to the slow embrace of death, that her judgment would be swift and just.

She could hear the rustling of her band awakening with the light. Strange, she pondered, musing how they all trusted her unendingly. Recalling all that she had done. Recalling all she had been. Foul and dark.

If they knew who walked among them… even the mortals, so young compared to her and the longevity of her sins… surely even they had heard tales…

Cordehlia took a deep breath, her mind turning quickly from those memories of battle. She tried to bury herself in that feeling of him…

That kiss, Gods had it felt good. Unchanged by the erosion of time, his fervor, his devotion. The pure flame that was Astarion’s soul, bright as the stars he was named for.

She could taste him, not as the vampire he became, but as… the one whose soul she had loved. It was magical, as if time itself stood still, being consumed by him, feeling his remembrance, the way his body transported her two-hundred years. It was… eerily the same. His hands… his taste… the little tangles of his tongue between her lips.

She closed her eyes. Gods, if she could give anything to reclaim that feeling, of being thrown back before… before all this darkness and blood. For both of them. Recalling what was once good about her…

Footsteps drawing up the hill made her almost leap from her skin, her fingers patting her cheeks, as if she could hide the blush that thinking of him called to her face. She didn’t want him to see her lusting after him so badly. Not yet, even though she suspected he would be more than pleased… perhaps pleasured even.

Gods, she swallowed at the thought.

Clearing her throat, she turned to smile at the uninvited company, but it wasn’t a handsome pale face leering down at her.

Karlach grinned, sparking brighter than the dawn. Her unabashedly joyful smile made her stomach sicken. “Seems I’m not the only soldier that needs a moment before battle, eh?”

“Seems that way,” she forced a smile, her hand patting the ground beside her a split second before Karlach helped herself to the company.

“You know, Cordehlia,” she spoke, drawing her knees into her chest. “I can see the way you love and hate the battle. Something you’re good at, maybe too good. But not something you chose for yourself, isn’t that it?”

“How…” the She-elf turned, every nerve in her body on fire to defend.

But Karlach just laughed quietly. “Because it’s a mirror to myself. I didn’t choose to become… what I am… Advocatus Diaboli, as Wyll was so quick to label me.”

She swallowed, voice still steady, even as Cordehlia could feel the pain flowing from her Tiefling companion. “I was also taken, not unlike your vampire boyfriend.”

Cordehlia groaned, but let the insinuation pass.

With a breath, she continued. “I was robbed of a future, imprisoned, experimented on… made into the person I am through no choice of my own.” Then, she turned those glowing eyes on the elf beside her. “But that doesn’t make me anything less than what I am. It doesn’t change my freedom now, you know, same as Astarion,” she nodded her head somberly, “same as you.”

Cordehlia scoffed. “I’m not free, however.”

The pain in her voice even pierced her own heart.

“I was never forced into being the dark thing I was… and I didn’t choose to stop being the creature I had become. I was forced to stop. I… I loved it. I lived for it, when I was in the deepest throes of that life. It was… thrilling. Addicting.” She breathed, bunching her own knees into her chest, same as her friend. “But I was brought before the High Council, deemed too dark for my own kind. I was forced to retire, to live peaceably alone. To atone for my sins and darkness…” She looked into Karach’s worried face. “You wonder why I’m not quick to condemn anyone as a monster? It’s because I would be their queen. I can’t condemn those who are less monstrous than I.”

Karlach said nothing, watching as Cordehlia turned her face into the light again. Watching those silver eyes flutter shut, her chest shaking with breaths as she struggled to continue. “They even told stories about me, to scare the young ones into submission, all along the Sword Coast, they still tell the fables about… what I was…”

A hot hand rested on the top of her knee. “If it helps, it is what you once was…” she grimaced, “once were.” She laughed at the correction. “And we monsters are glad for your company, your leadership, Cordehlia.”

The elf met her gaze then, as the tiefling’s hand slipped away. Her chin shook, eyes wet with unshed tears. Karlach just gave her a gentle, reassuring smile, “Hey, soldier, if anyone knows what it’s like to put yourself back together after being made a war machine, it’s me, okay?”

“Thank you,” she managed to reply.

“Now,” Karlach stood and smiled. “I’ve got your back, and you still got your soul, you hear me?” She waited for a teary breath and a nod. “Let’s go get a Druid who can get these things out of our brains and take out some Goblins, eh?”

Cordehlia managed a laugh, rising to her feet as well, hiding the sniffle she made as they walked back down to camp.

But her heart rapt harshly in her ribs to see the first face that sought her out as she made it back.

Astarion grinned his greeting, flashing those beautiful, terrifying fangs at her. “Morning, my sweet,” he bid, so happily. “I don’t know about you, but I had some of the most… delicious dreams…” That genteel grin twisted, desirous and bright. “Let’s just say there was a lot of pale skin, soft breasts and bright red hair everywhere I wanted it to be…”

Her stomach lurched. The rush of emotions from grief to lust, from self-loathing to desire… She placed a hand on her belly, her insides heaving at the all-too-rapid shift of her heart.

His eyes narrowed, scanning her blanching face before following the wake of the Tiefling. “What’s the matter?” he queried, harsh in tone. “Did Karlach do something to you?”

“No,” she took a breath, waiting for her body to return to her. “I’m fine.”

“You look it, darling.” He chuckled sarcastically, “Fine, I mean.”

“What? Not delicious?” she threw the taunt back. Her head clearing, her muscles easing.

“Always,” he growled, that sultry smirk instantly replacing any trace of concern. “For a moment I was worried that the idea of us fucking made your stomach sour,” he continued.

She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Once, it would have, you know,” she chimed, letting the barb catch him off guard.

He gasped in feigned injury, “Darling, I would be wounded,” he drew himself closer to her body, that slow, stealthy creep that made her shiver, “if it weren’t for the resounding past-tense of what you say…”

The implication hung in the air between them, in whatever minimal distance did remain between their bodies. And Codehlia let it, grinning, mouth twitching to think that it wasn’t inaccurate, his reading.

But she drew back a step. “You do know it’s morning, dawn before battle? We have much to accomplish before anyone can even dream of such delightful pursuits.”

“Yes yes,” Astarion flicked his wrist before tapping both hands on the sheathed daggers at his waist. “Infiltrate the nasty little Goblins, get the Druid, get these worms out of our heads…”

“Precisely,” she began to turn, but his cold, iron grip caught her hand from her side, pulling her after him, commandingly leading her back into his tent.

“I need to tell you,” he spoke quickly, quietly, once the flap fell behind her. “I’m not too fond of the idea of a Druid joining our ranks,” he grimaced. “They are loud and hot-blooded, and so… earthy.” His eyes skimmed over her body. “And they will be eager to mate with anything and everything they set eyes upon…”

“Jealous?” she grinned, folding her arms across her chest, an amused smile teasing her lips.

“Of course,” he replied coolly, eyes narrowing to that half-lidded stare that seemed to pierce right through the clothing she wore. “After all, I am just beginning to remember who I was… what we were… I would hate for some lusty wildform to waltz in here and ruin things.”

“Funny,” she continued to taunt. “You didn’t seem too worried about a human warlock the other night.”

“Please,” he shook his head, all wry-humored and sultry. “As if…” he gagged, “Wyll,” he spat the name in disgust, “could compare to my levels of charm and good looks.” He took a breath, his face softening in a seconds, crimson eyes wide as he looked down on her. “Which brings me to the next thing I wanted to tell you. I wanted to, to thank you for all our little understanding…”

Her brows furrowed. “Of letting you feed?”

“Yes, naturally,” he nodded. Sincere in every outward way. “You were my first you know…”

Her lips pressed firmly at his words, almost imperceptible, but he took note of the reaction. A little further hint to their past, perhaps, that he stashed away.

“You are my first living blood, first thinking blood. Drinking from one such as you was forbidden me. I was made to live on rats, mice, foul vermin, or starved until I was nearly too weak to be good for anything. That was my… reward… for the victims I would lure back for Cazador.” He spat the name. “A moldering rat as a treat for my obedience.” He huffed a disparaging laugh, scanning her questioning gaze. “I can see your thoughts, darling, why not just try to feed on my own? Well, as if I could disobey his command not to even try to sample something else.”

He looked so forlorn. As if even the words he shared couldn’t possibly describe what it was he endured. Suffered.

Unphased, he continued, “That’s the thing about vampire spawn, you know, they are compelled to obey, forced in their bodies to do… whatever is ordered of them.”

A moment passed between them before he looked up. Her eyes were soft, her face rife with concern. He was glad of it.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “For telling me.”

“I only wanted you to know my plight before we add another rutting male to our midst,” he crooned with a sneer. “I depend on you, you know, darling….”

Cordehlia gave a little hum, patting the chilled cheek of her rogue. “If you wanted to make certain I value you, Astarion, you don’t need to go to such lengths to convince me, you know.” She smiled, “A simple, please allow me to keep feeding on you, would suffice. Though your way with words is so skilled and eloquent.” Her brows raised as he began to smile too, “Even more than I recall.”

“Two hundred years of living on nothing but your wits and good looks makes you learn all things new,” he taunted in reply. Even as his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Is that why you pulled me in here alone, Astarion?” she pressed.

“Well…” he flashed that look again, the one rife with danger that made her belly flutter. “I wanted you to be my first thinking blood, you know… I wanted to know how you tasted.”

That last word sent her stomach fluttering again, her nerves burning.

“I wanted to thank you for such a favor, darling. And after the way you kissed me yesterday…”

“You kissed me, you mean?” she taunted, her face unmoving as she watched him take the barb in perfect stride. Making him smirk all the wider. All the hungrier.

“Regardless, you seemed to… enjoy it too. It just gave me ideas… of ways to thank you properly, you know.”

“Oh,” she grinned, innocent and bouncing on her toes. “You mean like fighting in battle today? Being a critical part of our party? Keeping me from losing all control on the battlefield?”

“And why would I do that?” he purred, letting his fingers stroke up the sheathed blade that hung at her side. “You are most attractive in battle from what I have seen. Magnificent, intelligent. Do not deny yourself that chance to shine, darling.” He leaned closer until his breath passed between her panting lips. “And besides, I’m certainly hoping that bloodlust from today becomes plain, old, carnal lust by nightfall.”

Her face is hardened, a distant fire behind her eyes. Her breathing is so faint, he had to lean in close to even hear it. “Take care, Ancunín,” she hissed. “You have yet to see the real monster that lurks beneath me in battle.”

“I hope she’s fearsome to behold,” he grinned, letting his hand wander up from her weapon, grazing her hip to tug her just that bit closer, to pull her against his body. “I’m sure she is nothing to be ashamed of, as one monster to another.”

She shivered under his touch. “You are not one, not compared to me.”

“Well, as you have said to me, darling, when you’re ready, I’ll listen. I’m all pointy ears, love.”

That made her huff a laugh, a slight smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

Nothing could come from her mouth. No words. No amount of gratitude, of awe for the way he didn’t push or recoil. His hand just pressed into her lower back, his lips waiting to see what she would do.

Hells take it if she didn’t give him a little sign of her thanks. She raised on her toes, pressing her lips to his.

Almost surprised, he accepted it, her quick little peck, letting her step away, out of the shadows of his tent.

—————

The goblin camp stank, just as they all had, Cordehlia wrinkled her nose.

At least, the Druid was freed. But victory was far from near. Halsin brimmed with gratitude, even as Astarion failed to hide his eyes rolls. “Funny way of showing thankfulness, giving us another mission,” he grumbled as they left the Druid behind. Three Goblin leaders to dispatch would be no meager task.

Cordehlia shushed him, but he only continued to hiss his complaints as they crept deeper into the camp. “I’ll try not to think of it as helping, mind you, just gaining some other opportunities to dispatch more of these Goblin trash…”

“How altruistic of you,” Gale let the sarcasm fly in reply.

Astarion turned that insincere smirk at the Wizard. “You all keep using that word to describe my choices. I’m beginning to think you’re the ones who don’t know its meaning….”

“Hush,” Cordehlia rounded on the pair of them, only making Kalrach snigger as well. “We must be cautious, these are no dumb Goblins. They think us True Souls. It will take cunning, especially against Drow warrior Minthara…”

As if on command, the entryway opened to a greet chamber, the dark skinned, ruthless Drow bellowing orders at the other end.

Her sharp gaze glanced quickly. Her smile sickeningly twisted. “Speak, are you here to join the battle?”

Cordehlia stepped with all the confidence centuries of bloodshed could give her. “Hail, True Soul,” the She-elf nodded her head. “We are sent to aid in the ravaging of the Grove.”

“Prove it,” Minthara snipped, her hand drawing her blade. “You are not Goblin nor Drow, and as such, I have no qualms with spilling your guts on the ground for fodder.”

“Very well,” Cordehlia replied, more exacting in her voice than even her foe.

She raised her hand, calling upon the worm…

The ground ran red. Blood. Elven and wizard and alien, it smelled delicious. Her feet squelched in it, the lives of her enemies drained by her hand. She resheathed her dagger, bright metal, etched with a signet near the tang.

A Raven, a black bird in a dive.

She began to brush the blood from her coal-black armor. The pattern of feathers collecting the crimson running down her body.

Cordehlia took a deep breath, looking at her field of glory one more time. For her people. For herself.

Everyone gasped as they returned to the caves, their consciousness all stunned as her band looked at Cordehlia, up and down. Their minds all linked by the worm, her vision in their heads too. The recalling of her past, dark and bloodied, as it broke upon them all.

“My my,” Minthara crooned, impressed as she resheathed her blade. “I know of that blade, that chilling reputation. The Absolute surely knows how to choose souls for her service. It has been ages since you have been seen, isn’t that right?”

“Half a century, by the reckoning of my people,” she replied, her tone distant. Harsh. “They would like to think I’m dead. Forgotten.”

“That will not be your fate with the Absolute, and not with me, my Lady Corvus,” Minthara bowed. Low, bending at the waist.

She could hear the way her band’s breath froze. But she couldn’t reply. Not yet. “My company of True Souls needs a moment of respite, if you will give it to us. Those damned Druids depleted our resources, but we know where they are. My scout will give you the location once we tend to our needs, Lady Minthara.”

“Of course,” smiled the Drow, dismissing them with a wave.

She held her head high, marching them down to the corner of the cavern. Of course, it was Gale who stared Cordehlia square in the eyes once they were alone. “The Lady Corvus, Bone Picker, most intelligent elven warrior of her kind, so ruthless in battle, every bone of her enemies was left bare.”

She shook her head. “You see now,” she sighed. Mouth twitching. Eyes cold. “You all pale in comparison to me, no one can match my monstrosity.”

“Ahem,” Astarion cleared his voice right beside her. “First of all, you say pale and monstrosity like they’re bad things….”

“Astarion!” Gale snipped to interrupt, but the Pale Elf just held up his hand to silence him.

“You don’t know half the things I’ve done… that perhaps any of us have done. And yet you don’t turn us away,” he continued. His voice was smooth, gentle, not dripping in seduction, but wrapped in comfort. “We won’t turn from you either, you know, whether you are Lady Corvus, or just Cordehlia.”

“That’s right, soldier,” Karlach was the first to pat her on the shoulder. Rough and steady. “Why, I’ve severed more heads than I’ve kissed faces.”

“I’ve damned a thousand souls for Cazador’s meals,” Astarion added, a smile on his face. “Bet I’ve done worse than you, Lady Corvus…”

“You wish to compare body count?” she gave a single, dark laugh.

“Well, we know whose hands are bloodier now at any rate,” he quipped.

“You mean face, I believe,” Karlach pointed as she guffawed.

“Shhh,” Cordehlia suddenly held up her hands. “We are supposed to be evil. Not some silly band of youths here to loot and pilfer.”

“Tch,” Astarion smirked. “You’re no fun if we can’t do that…”

Minthara did stride over, frowning at the sound laughter and merriment. “Well, it is curious to see such mirth in the warriors of Lady Corvus,” she hissed. “I’m surprised, given the tales of your deeds, your bloodshed.” Her thin lips quirked. “Have the decades of seclusion softened you? Does the Absolute know of your…”

Her breath left her body. The quick work of Cordehlia’s dagger shoved between her ribs. “The Absolute can rot, and so can these brainworms,” she hissed into Minthara’s dark, pointed ear.

Cordehlia’s eyes looked into the Drow’s, watching the light fade from them, a dark smile on her lips. Then, those silver eyes flashed at the rest of her party. “Get them,” she ordered, a nod of her head at the rest of the Goblin hoard.

Gale and Karlach snuck off, the wizard’s hands glowing already, the Tiefling’s ax ringing in her hand as she swung if off her back. But it was Astarion who lingered and grinned at her, watching as she dropped the body of their enemy at her feet. “With pleasure,” he purred, snatching her bloodied dagger in his hand. The Drow’s blood dripping down the bright blade, the etching of the Raven near the hilt darkened red.

He licked her blade clean, his eyes locked into hers, watching her chest heaving, her eyes hazy as she watched every little flick his pink tongue made along her weapon before he handed it back.

[deamare]

TOA Anniversary Munday

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is. Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing! Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: elysia, or alina

Pronouns: any

Birthday (no year): 10/04

Where are you from? What is your time zone? come on baby americaaaaaaaa (EST)

How long is your roleplay experience? long enough

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? it's just always been a thing for me honestly, my first time really delving into internet rp was through warrior cats and pokemon chat forums

How were you introduced to TOA? i found it through twitter at approximately 5 am the night before my first shift at a new job. my life was falling apart and all i knew was that maybe reserving sylvain would fix me

Do you have any pets? two cats! guinevere and percival :)

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) aesthetically it will always be spring but truthfully i love autumn-- rainy overcast weather, when it's still warm but the wind is cold... that's the shit

What is your IRL occupation? customer service (boo)

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? i'm a cosplayer, a dabbler in graphic design, and otherwise a pretty boring guy LMAO

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? league of legends, gesnhin impact and honkai: star rail, honkai impact 3rd, devil may cry, and a general smattering of other pvp and beautiful woman gacha games

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: flying & altaria, though it varies

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! i eat toaster strudels frozen

How did you get into Fire Emblem? saw one of the tellius games over someone's shoulder once, consumed fates and awakening via friends, and then watched 3h playthroughs until my ex gave me his switch to play it myself on.

What Fire Emblem games have you played? played? fatesawakening, 3h, engage, and sacstones. i'm much more amiable to watching other people play them, so i'm generally a consumer from a distance. i would not be a good tactician i fear

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: awakening (i think) and... thracia. if not then genealogy

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! thrasir, lucina, ishtar, corrin, seliph

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! im so serious i cant remember who came first anymore

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 GIVE IT UP FOR FRED

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: chrom, still chrom i think - Fates: niles, leo now - Three Houses: dimitri, i switched it up for sylvain a few times but still dimitri - Engage: ivy, though i did diamant later so

Favorite Fire Emblem class? bow knight or pegasus knight

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? i'm that one archer you get at the beginning that is probably getting benched by map 4

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? blue lions babey

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? boons: riding, bow banes: axe budding talent: sword

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? firene prob

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔 i say every letter

Current TOA muses: ishtar, lucina, f!corrin

Past TOA muses? (checks notes) eirika, ash (feh), thrasir, tailtiu, erinys, marisa, priscilla, nyna, marni, rinea, sylvain

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? sylvain. i've thought about it but he and i just have too much beef LMAO if i went back to 3h it would be for someone else

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? women.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? i'm not good at maintaining funny characters, but i think i can do anything decentlyish if i try

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? i love when a thread takes a good balance between character conversation and action. when we can keep a thread moving at a pace towards a goal, and seeing how muses interact with that urgency... yummy. i do also really enjoy when characters can Have A Conversation though

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? i like to take threads as they come and let the exciting things surprise me. that hits harder imo then "yeah i want to write this" so i don't think on it too hard

Favorite TOA-related memories? traitorpaw is my claim to fame you know it had to go here

Present or past tense? present

Normal size text, small text, no preference? idgaf but i use small text myself

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 croaks

[starogeorgina]

Broken bonds

Paring: Ser Harwin Strong/reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood and violence

1.05

“He’s very fond of you.”

Smiling, you turn your head back to face Ser Harwin, never taking your hand off of Varos' neck. Exhaling, you lean your head against your dragons in contentment, saying, “He’s fond of you as well; otherwise, you’d no longer be here, Ser Harwin.”

Harwin tries his best to hold back the grin growing on his face. Although you had started to call him only by his first name in private, he found it amusing when you called him Ser when others were around. A few of the knights and servants had gathered outside to watch as Daemon returned with Caraxes. He had suddenly gone to an undisclosed location; you didn’t ask why he had to leave so urgently, as you had learned over the years when it came to your uncle Daemon that ignorance was bliss. Although you did enjoy spending the last few days with your sworn protector.

“Princess,” Ser Harwin says, leaning in closer to you, causing goosebumps to spread like wildfire across your body. “I feel it’s my duty to tell you that you’ve got sand on your face.”

You rub at your cheek, trying to get it off, but when you fail to do so, Harwin lets out a soft chuckle and brushes the pad of his thumb across your other cheek, brushing it off gently. You momentarily feel lost in his soft touch, your eyes drawn to his lips, until a feeling of dread consumes you, which Harwin notices.

His facial expression hardens. “Princess, what is wrong?” When you don’t answer, his hand settles on your shoulder, his voice softer. “Vaella?”

“I’m not sure.” Your eyes sweep over the beach until they land on knights patiently awaiting orders from your uncle as Caraxes lands on the ground. You stride towards them, the knights bowing when you stand before them. You address Ser Albert, the longest-standing guard on Dragonstone. “Have your best men guard whatever caves Varos and Caraxes decide to resign in. I’m to be immediately notified if anyone aside from my uncle tries to get near them.”

Ser Albert nods and says, “Very well, princess, I will make quick work of dividing my men into separate groups, one to watch over each dragon, day and night.”

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

“Allow me to volunteer,” Ser Harwin says, stepping forward. “I will join the night team watching over Varos.”

It meant a great deal to you that Harwin would offer his services without even asking you the reasons behind them, but you did worry. Daemon had briefly explained dragon dreaming to Harwin, so you assumed that was why he was trusting you so easily.

Ser Albert goes to agree, but you bet him to it. “A very kind offer; however, I do think it’s a lot for one man to be awake day and night. I do not wish for you to grow ill with exhaustion.”

“Your dragon is an extension of you, princess; I wouldn’t be fulfilling my oath if I didn’t protect you both.”

“If you insist,” you say, running your fingers through the ends of your long hair, which was becoming tangled due to strong winds and sand sticking to it. You were hesitant to let him go but agreed, “But that means you’ve finished for the rest of the day.”

His eyes burn into you. “I am-”

“My sworn protector, I know. But only a well-rested knight can watch over a dragon,” you muse. “Besides, I will be perfectly safe with my uncle while you rest.”

—

Scrunching up your nose, you sit up in bed, the faint smell of smoke tickling your nostrils. Your hair was freshly washed, and your bath was scented with lavender oil, so judging by how strong the smell was, you knew a fire must have been close by.

You reach for a robe when a soft knock comes at the door, along with an announcement that your uncle is here to see you. You call for the door to be opened, and you see Daemon standing with two knights on either side of him; he looks slightly unnerved. “I’m sorry to wake you at this time, but it’s a matter of urgency.”

He moves to allow a servant with candles to enter the bedchamber you were currently staying in. “What is it, uncle?”

“It's Ser Harwin; he's been attacked. An assassin was sent to kill him.”

You feel breathless and frozen where you stand as you watch your uncle step closer to you as you struggle to process the news he’s just shared. When Daemon places his hand on your shoulder, you notice the bruise starting to swell on his knuckles and the fresh blood on his sleeve and fear the worst.

“Is he dead?”

“No, he’s alive,” your uncle confirms. “But weak. The maester said the knife missed his spleen by mere centimeters; however, he is certain Ser Harwin will make a full recovery.”

You had assumed the feeling of dread you felt was due to someone wanting to hurt your dragon; oh, how wrong you were. A soft sob escaped your lips, which you poorly tried to disguise with a cough. “What happened?”

Daemon motions for you to sit as he pours two cups of wine; you had been so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t even noticed it being brought in. “A fire was started as a distraction; it was near the caves the dragons slept in, causing most of the men to abandon their posts to try and put it out. Only four men remained outside of the cave Varos was in; three of them died, and Ser Harwin was wounded.”

You downed your drink, hating the way it burned the back of your throat. “Do you know who was behind the attack?”

“A man named Arthur Weststar.”

Guilt plagues your mind; you should have questioned why your husband's ally was on the island. This was your fault. Your hand rests on your chest as your heart beats rapidly against it. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“His motives currently remain unclear.”

“I assume Arthur has been dealt with?” You ask, feeling your initial shock turn to grief.

“My men have been questioning him since it happened. I have also spoken with him myself. Once I have sufficient answers, he will be executed.”

Through bloodshot eyes, you give your uncle a knowing look and say, “I want him brought to the courtyard at first light.”

You go to stand, but your uncle grabs your wrist, keeping you in place. “Vaella, my dear niece, I have already said it before; you don’t have the heart for war or killing.

“Uncle!” You scold him, snapping your wrist away from his grip. “This ‘man’ has attempted to kill a sworn protector of a Targaryen princess; he has declared war upon our house and will receive a Targaryen punishment.”

“If you personally execute him, then the Hightowers will have an excuse-”

“Fuck the Hightowers!” You seethed before storming outside to prepare Varos for the sun rising.

—

Dressed in a dark crimson gown with black flames sewn into it that resembled the one you wore during the battle of the step stones, you remain grim-faced as Arthur Weststar is brought before you in the courtyard. His face was bloodied and bruised, but that was little to nothing to hide his smugness.

When his chains are secure, the knights who brought him out step out of the way just as Varos roars loudly, landing beside you, his wings spreading and almost knocking into a crowd of onlookers. Arthur’s eyes widen in fear momentarily before he lets out a deep laugh. Daemon had received some information from Arthur, but he wasn’t sure how much of it was factual.

Glancing to the side, you make eye contact with your uncle Daemon, who gives you a small nod of approval. You turn back to face Arthur. “Arthur Weststar, in the name of King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I hereby sentence you to death on the charges of being a traitor to House Targaryen.”

“Please, my princess, forgive me,” he says mockingly.

“Dracarys.”

The traitor was bathed in a blast of flames, and his screams of pain would haunt anyone who heard them. Varos’s jaws closed around him before the dragon spat his body out in two halves. The scene was gruesome to see, with blood spatters decorating the cobblestones where the body landed.

You’re stunned as the knights who follow your uncle bow down to you. Your uncle Daemon placed his hand on your back and quietly said, “Men will always follow strength; you’ve just given them another reason to follow our house.”

—

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” Harwin teased before sitting up, letting out a grunt as his hand moved to his bandaged-up wound.

“Not long.” You smiled. You had noticed his eye fluttering some time ago but chose not to say anything so he wouldn’t feel obligated to get up. “When did you wake up?”

“When your nose was buried in a book, you looked so content that I didn’t want to disturb you.”

A blush creeps into your cheeks. The maester tried to refuse you entry to the room Harwin was resting in, but you ignored him and barged in regardless. Hearing what had happened to the knight felt like living a nightmare from which you were desperate to wake up. The fear of losing him was worse than any dream you could have foreseen. Harwin looks up at you, smiling that wholeheartedly kind smile of his. The look on his face was reassurance that everything would be okay. Despite not knowing him very well, your sworn protector had become your closest confidante.

He takes your hand and gently says, “Prince Daemon visited me before you arrived; I know what you did to the man who tried to kill me.” He kisses the back of your hand. “I will forever be in your awe of you, princess, and in your debt.”

You chuckle at his words, linking his fingers with yours and joking, “Perhaps I will hold you to that debt one day, Harwin.”

A comfortable silence fills the room as you shyly look down at the floor and then back up at him, wondering what it was he discussed with your uncle, but those thoughts soon disappeared when you saw a hint of a smile on his face. Titling your head to the side, you draw him in with your lilac eyes, leaning his head upright. Harwin lays his lips on yours.

[prototypelq]

vergil for the ask game?

Vergy!

thank you and @river-muse for asking about the series #1 Motivated Loser!)))

favourite thing about them

First place - his inner softness. Vergil is very much his momma's boy, he is emotional, touchy, and he loves with his whole heart, he loves so much that he is scared of the feeling consuming him whole. I thrive on seeing him simply be the older brother, father (and adopted uncle) figure that he wishes to be.

Honourable mention: just how Iconic he is. Vergil is THE anime katana wielder, he is THE Storm That Is Approaching, he is THE Rival Videogame Boss, he will kick your ass into Easy mode without breaking a sweat. Dante is an iconic protagonist for sure, but Vergil is one of THE Videogame Bosses Of All Time and that position is absolutely deserved. And, y'know. He is super fun to fight.

least favourite thing about them

V(ergil). I appreciate all the character development we got out of that time, but I also firmly believe it could have been achieved in other ways, plus V(ergil) just makes the story completely unrelatable. Dante faces human trauma and human struggles. Vergil faces those same problems, however, his path through them is an emotional mess human (and fans') experience cannot account for. For me, that dampens the emotional investment in the story, especially considering how much simpler, but no less impactful in Dante's in comparison to Vergil.

DisHonourable mention: 'Dreams of a black throne I keep on repeat' and 'Call me your majesty' lines from BTL and Fire Inside respectfully. None of those lines fit Vergil at all, and they only further the ginormous amount of misconceptions about him.

(I do adore the demonic pet therapy tho, it was adorable)

favourite line

'We've got plenty of time' (watch me bawl till final stage of dehydration to this)

brOTP

I mean, it's in the name. Sparda Loser Twins, my beloved. I also completely support every opinion that Vergil will get along with Trish, Lady, Nico and Patty just fine.

OTP

I admit, I am intrigued by Vergil/Lady, I think they can have something good together. They both seek challenge, and could provide it for each other (by challenge I also mean just generally new experiences, I don't mean they have to fistfight each arguement). I can see them together in some post-dmc3 AU scenario, but also. Surprisingly. Post-dmc5. Cause Lady very much needs to retire if she wants to live any longer than she has, and Vergil has known nothing but violence for his entire adult life (which is also not much). Post-dmc5 both need to learn how to handle peace times, and this parallel is what I can see driving them together in this setup. Again, I think they can have something nice, also probably much sweeter than in post-dmc3 version.

nOTP fucking incest

random headcanon

Vergil is a freakin romantic to the core. He likes reading, he would enjoy himself in an art gallery, I think he would also like visiting theater and/or musicals. This man forced himself to weaponise his nerdiness and I'd love to see him slowly, badly, but surely, letting go and just enjoying himself and different hobbies. Also, just a totally random thing - I think he'd enjoy pottery (after he breaks a few dozen mishapen figures first, of course)

unpopular opinion

I doubt I can come up with something more unpopular than my previous rant about V(ergil)

song i associate with them

I have a few actually! Vergil would love Bring Me To Life and I Am Right About This. I can also see him enjoying Break The Silence.

This track is an absolute BLAST, and I have a concrete vision that Vergil would like to learn and play it. This vision was extended by the brainrot into Dante hearing the track, loving it, then bringing himself and Nero along to play the song (just don't ask me how, I have counted at least four different instruments, and it either means Dante and Nero have to switch drums and base guitar mid-song, or that Vergil and Dante have to switch on the guitars). This song is just so beautiful, and I think the losers will have an amazing time playing it together.

Musical Spardas, one of my most critical of weaknesses.

also I wish there was a way to mod Kitsune Dance to be the M19 bossfight music. beautiful song, it has very distinct musical phases which would easily match the fight escalation, and it just sound much more fitting for Vergil than the in-game track.

favourite picture of them

this is one of those pics where the context of the original shot was painful, but the resulting image looks wholesome as hell and I love it. (pls share source if you know it)

[cleomigadon]

Durgeira~

Is there already a ship name for Jaheira x Durge? I couldn't find anything. So I guess… OneSided!Durgeira. It's got a nice ring to it. Really, is this even a thing? I was looking hard for content to consume, but it's as sparse as a mimic's treasure chest. Very disappointed at the lack of Ja-Durgenauts content.

***

As Jaheira watched, she couldn't help but feel captivated by the sight of Raven sitting by the firepit, with the dancing flames casting a subtle, enchanting glow on his face. The companions were resting one last time before going to Moonrise Towers to get more information about the Nightsong - the relict that made Ketheric Thorm invincible…

Raven remained strangely silent, and she could tell he was distraught. She made her way towards the fire.

Although she had suspicions about him, she decided to exercise patience and give him the benefit of the doubt. However, she recognized the telltale signs - the predatory grace in his movements, the palpable aura that emanated from him, screaming what she had long dreaded... that he was indeed a Bhaalspawn. This shouldn't be any worse or any less unsettling than knowing he was a murderer or thief or any other dark secrets his background may have concealed. But this would open wounds of hers, raw and tender as if they had been inflicted only yesterday or perhaps just hours ago. The passage of time didn't diminish the personal nature of her ordeal. The mere thought of Imoen, uncertain of her fate, caused her heart to constrict with a mixture of sorrow and anger.

The hour was late. The backyard was vacant since most people were out or asleep upstairs.

"Penny for your thoughts, Raven?" she whispered as she came to sit beside him. "Is there something troubling you, my friend?" She nudged him playfully on the arm.

Raven stirred and looked at her. There was a glimmer of something behind those ice-blue eyes, but it passed before she could say anything more.

The corner of his mouth twitched, and Jaheira realized he was suppressing a grin. "Oh, so we're back to being friends?" he mused. "I've noticed the way you stare at me, Jaheira. You see me as a threat."

There was something off about his gaze. However, there was no doubt about it this time: his Bhaalspawn instinct was kicking in.

Jaheira shifted slightly. "Yes," she admitted.

Raven chuckled softly. His gaze narrowed just a bit. He leaned in closer.

"I'm curious. What do you know about me?"

Jaheira hesitated. She wondered how much she should reveal. "Well," she said finally, "as I mentioned, your path was unknown. But your appearance alone speaks volumes about who and what you are. The sheer magnetism is unsettling. I've only encountered it years ago." Her tone was cautious. "Raven... It's not just your combat skills that remind me of the darkness I once encountered. It's something more. I feel a god's essence radiating from you. Your possible lineage makes it difficult for me not to detect this bond."

His lips twisted into a scowl. "Do you know who I am or was?"

"A little bit," Jaheira admitted. "It's true, there were always rumors, especially in the North. But that was all they were. Regarding the Dread Lord... concerning the offspring of Bhaal, born from his own bloodshed. Despite that... It was a major blunder for Bhaal, the force that thrives on conflict, to bring you into existence. The process of breeding such a gorgeous... or, rather, aberration. Formed to die and be his host."

"Do you truly believe that my existence and demise are nothing more than a design of the blood god?" he asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and disbelief.

Jaheira waved her hand dismissively. "If he is the one who brought you into existence, he did a woeful job of trying to shape you to resemble him. It's hard to imagine your arrival here being anything other than good, especially considering your tremendous impact on the grove. Am I mistaken?"

"Not necessarily."

The half-elf gave a suspicious look. "And yet... wherever you go, whispers of destruction linger in the air. That many have died in your name. You are to be separated from such deeds as you lost all memories, but what do you say, no feel about that? That you are a child of Bhaal?"

"Why are you asking? Are you trying to test me? Let's see if I can hold up under your questioning."

"Hmmm." With a low hum, she fixated on Raven, her mind churning as she processed his answer. With an even and soft voice, she continued to search for something, her words hanging in the air. "Tell me, relying on instinct rather than recollection - do you hold affection for your father, cup?"

He maintained his composure and remained utterly still.

Jaheira grinned, giving reassurance. "Just so you know, there's no right or wrong answer."

Silence. Jaheira continued. "Ever wonder why he lets you live?"

With a slight movement of his head, his piercing eyes tracked her. "I can not know why," he replied, his brows furrowing slightly. Nothing happened for a moment, and then there was a sudden movement. He inched closer.

Her brown orbs went wide.

With a firm grip, Raven lifted the arm of the white-haired half-elf higher and higher until the underside of her arm was fully exposed, displaying every inch and freckle. And also a scar hiding there.

Jaheira couldn't avert her gaze. She felt stunned and uncomfortable, yet curiosity overruled her prudence.

It wasn't just her reaction and Raven's persistent pressure at her arm that caused it; it was her will and curiosity getting the better of her.

"What's this about, cup?"

His eyes took the shape of slits. "I've noticed you tend to touch that scar whenever you gaze at me."

Jaheira flinched. This wound was earned in the battle against Sarevok… … the Bhaalspawn. What did it say about her state of mind when she thought about this bastard so many years after his demise, his death?

She groaned, and a sharp pain flashed over her whole body when Raven pinned her hand above her head.

As he inched closer, a distinct scent reached her nose, instantly recognizable. She felt him. It was like he didn't even pursue someone and captivated them nonetheless. He smelled divine.

Jaheira clenched her fists. "Cup, I am old enough to have seen generations come and go before you were even born. It's not nice to tease me. And this scar, a jagged reminder of a painful past. Listen well: Long ago, a BHAALSPAWN tore into my flesh!"

He clicked his tongue. "Seeing you squirm is amusing, Granny." Then he let go of her, causing her to lean back so forcefully that she nearly lost her balance. He laughed.

That part where he called her Granny was totally on them, as was her calling him a cup.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Raven flashed a wide, boyish grin. At that moment, Jaheira felt an iron fist tightening within her soft gut, causing her to feel as if she were crumbling apart in the blink of an eye. She felt a wave of nausea wash over her, her body betraying her at that moment.

If he knew, he played dumb.

She had let herself become infatuated with the cup. It was weird. Similar to a vacuum. There was a massive emptiness. It didn't matter how she felt. It was a severe violation of responsibility. A mistake. It could never occur... because there was a certain doom, yes, doom looming ahead. Because all Bhaalspawn…

..were fated to die.

***

[cardiac-agreste]

How has the MLB fandom personally affected your day-to-day life, and what were the major things you used to do, in the fandom in your first year, that you no longer do.

I have way less free time thanks to the MLB fandom! And I wrote a novel! Yes, it's unpublishable as it is fanfiction, but I WROTE A NOVEL! Something I'd decided I wanted to do before I turned 40. And people like it?? SPLENDIFEROUS.

The big thing I used to do my first year that I (almost) no longer do is participate on the MLB subreddit, which is extremely toxic IMO. Just an absolute shit experience if you like the show. It often felt like I was one of the few people there who didn't hate it. It was not a happy time and place to be a fan!

I am there way less now. I'm so busy writing my fanfiction (like A Small but Stubborn Fire) that I can barely keep up with reading the fics I like (shout out @uptoolateart @wehadabondingmoment @nemaliwrites @raspberrycatapult @wackus-bonkus-maximus @monpetitchattriste @pisoprano @wield-the-mighty-pen @sing-in-me-oh-muse AND SO MANY MORE(seriously see attached screenshot how HUGE my backlog of subscribed fic chapters I have to catch up on!), let alone go get flamed on Reddit for daring to suggest that Marinette is fundamentally a good person.

For your reading "enjoyment," my autobiography

No one actually cares, but I'm on roll.

I was a huge anime fan in the 90s and early 00s. But then I moved to Japan and realized most anime is crap (just like most of any country's TV output is crap). But subtitles often make things sound more profound than the original. Fortunately yet unfortunately, I stopped needing them. (Plus the novelty of it that went away once I was in-country.)

So for about 10–15 years, I didn't watch any anime. Maybe a Ghibli or Satoshi Kon movie now and then.

Then sometime around the pandemic, maybe a bit before, I gave Naruto a go on Netflix after I'd seen a gazillion memes of geeks running strangely in parks. NFLX only had the first half, not Shippuden, so there was no closure for me. I decided to go to the fanfiction world after DECADES of not reading fanfiction. Like, I left the fanfiction world when I was reading Ranma 1/2, so the late 90s?

Anyway, there weren't websites for fanfiction back then. We used USENET. RAAC (rec.arts.anime.creative), specifically.

So I had to legit google to see where you went for fanfiction these days since, as you might have noticed, USENET is nigh on dead now, right? Gen Z out here asking "what is a usenet"

I discovered FFN and eventually Ao3. I kinda wore myself out of Naruto and decided to check out MLB fanfiction since I'd been watching it with my kids and I think we were waiting for the second half of S3 to show up on Netflix.

FUCKING HOOKED. CUE THE HYPERFIXATION.

So my first year deep in the fandom I was reading fanfiction constantly. Just a ridiculous amount. I think I might get the silver medal for amount consumed.

Anyway I'm getting tired of writing about myself (kind of a shocker actually), which means NO ONE is reading this far into what I've written. Point is, I got persuaded through some conversations to submit for the @mlbigbang and I wrote around 75K words and here I am.

FYI this is not reflective of the quality of my writing seriously go read my story, I will give you a refund if you don't like it

EDIT I FORGOT THE SCREENSHOT

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

To the chief Musician, even to Jeduthun, A Psalm of David.

1 I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue: I will keep my mouth with a bridle, while the wicked is before me. 2 I was dumb with silence, I held my peace, even from good; and my sorrow was stirred. 3 My heart was hot within me, while I was musing the fire burned: then spake I with my tongue, 4 Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is; that I may know how frail I am. 5 Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee: verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity. Selah. 6 Surely every man walketh in a vain shew: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.

7 And now, Lord, what wait I for? my hope is in thee. 8 Deliver me from all my transgressions: make me not the reproach of the foolish. 9 I was dumb, I opened not my mouth; because thou didst it. 10 Remove thy stroke away from me: I am consumed by the blow of thine hand. 11 When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth: surely every man is vanity. Selah.

12 Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear unto my cry; hold not thy peace at my tears: for I am a stranger with thee, and a sojourner, as all my fathers were. 13 O spare me, that I may recover strength, before I go hence, and be no more. — Psalm 39 | Authorized King James Version (AKJV) The Holy Bible: Authorized King James Version; Cambridge University Press, the Crown’s patentee in the UK. All rights reserved. Cross References: Exodus 9:3; 2 Samuel 16:10; Job 2:10; Job 6:11; Job 7:19; Job 9:34; Job 11:12; Psalm 32:3-4; Psalm 38:13; Psalm 38:15; Psalm 44:13; Psalm 51:9; Isaiah 38:16; Jeremiah 20:9; Matthew 6:27; Luke 12:20; Luke 24:32; 1 Corinthians 7:31; Hebrews 6:19; Hebrews 11:13; James 1:26; James 3:2; 1 Peter 2:11; 2 Peter 2:16