#Chapter 10

[damn-stark]

Chapter 10 Past the point of no return

Chapter 10 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- I really hope you guys like it! Thank you for tagging along and or coming back :) I love you all

Warning- fluff?, ANGST, VIOLENCE, DEATH, spoilers for season 2, Remember this is a rewrite not an AU, so the major stuff that happens in the show will happen here :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader (platonic of course :), OC x Fem!reader

Episode- 2x02

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

*25 YEARS AGO*

Without waiting for an answer, the door creaks open, and in slips a tiny figure that casts a mighty shadow over the bed while the barely conscious man struggles to see through the darkness of his room.

“Daddy,” you whisper shakily and stay under the moonlight peeking through the window to avoid being taken by the monster lurking in the shadows. “I had a bad dream, can I sleep with you?”

There’s no use arguing or trying to reassure you, you would either crawl into his bed or go crawl into Sarah’s bed. No matter how many times he’s told you they’re only dreams, you still mistake them as real and you are a rather fearful child, so he just gives in.

“Quickly,” he mumbles and lays his head back on the bed. “Or the monster is gonna get ya.”

Your eyes widen and without needing to be told twice, you scurry over and hide under your dad's blankets.

“You didn’t close the door,” he grumbles with his eyes closed and you peek one eye out to look at the hall hiding the monster that visited your dreams.

“Daddy I dreamt a big moth came and picked us up to eat us,” you share and turn to solely look at him as if the barely visible sight of his face was your sole savior.

“I told you not to watch that movie with your sister,” he reminds you sternly before he can’t help himself; he spoils you by wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close so your face is against his chest, letting you find comfort in his slow beating heart.

“Now go to sleep. No moth monster is comin’ to eat us,” he assures you and with that alone, you let out a relieved breath and nuzzle yourself against him to use his beating heart as your lullaby and fall back asleep in his arms.

——

*NOW*

“Ah. Ah. Open your mouth Teddy,” you try to get your son to cooperate, but no matter how many funny faces you do he’s quite grumpy in the mornings so he’s hard to deal with.

“Mornin’ Sunny, Apollo, Teddy. Brother,” your uncle greets as he and his family walk over and join you around the table in the restaurant. “Why are you here so early I thought you’d be hungover”

“Ha,” you feign a laugh and keep trying to feed your son, but he keeps finding his wooden horse more interesting. “Dad said getting hungover is a sign of old age, me and Apollo are still young and thrivin’.” You say smugly and flash him a cocky smile but lose your smile all too quickly when your uncle steals a sausage off your plate—“That’s mine old man.”

“Not anymore,” he quips and takes a big bite from the sausage, making you roll your eyes and respond to his question instead. “We decided to grab breakfast here since you told us you wanted to have an early meeting, and since I have early patrol we thought why not,” you share as you watch Maria and Benji walk away to grab their hot breakfast plates. “And since we found my dad here, we decided to join him.”

You offer your uncle a genuine smile and focus back on trying to feed Teddy his blended fruit and cereal, but he keeps turning his head away.

“I’m about to head out,” your dad interjects as he drinks his last sips of coffee. “Is that something I should still do? Maybe I should stay here,” he suggests since they put the town on alert for a reason you have yet to know.

“No, I prefer you go to your patrol,” your uncle lets your dad know before he leans forward so everyone around the table will hear. “Last night Kylie and Max found a pile of dead infected near Seven Cabins. Wouldn’t have been a problem but turns out they were hiding 30 live ones underneath.”

Well, there’s the answer to your question and the foil to your plans.

“If that’s so maybe the patrol groups should be bigger,” Apollo suggests as you share a worried look. “Going out in pairs is perhaps too dangerous.”

Your uncle sighs and sits back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, I thought about it, but the patrol groups will be avoiding the Seven Cabins area. Their routes shouldn’t be infested. It’s that growing storm that worries me.”

“Ellie is going to join me and Jesse,” you mention and put Teddy’s food down to pass your husband a reassuring look. “Three is better than two, plus if that storm gets any bigger then we know where to lay low until it passes or gets small again. Plus we need as many bodies here if anything does happen, and we can’t risk not going out either.”

“Sunny is right. The patrol groups will go out. Just take more precaution than usual,” your uncle interjects, making you reach over to give Apollo’s hand a gentle and assuring squeeze.

“Who’s staying with Teddy?” Your dad asks with concern. “When I come back I can still take him. Keep home where it’s safe, but what about now?”

“I changed my shift,” Apollo tells your dad. “I’ll have Teddy with me while she’s out on patrol. It’s better being safe than sorry.”

You nod in agreement and your dad sighs with relief before he parts his lips with the intention of saying something. Albeit before he can share what he wanted Jesse walks over and joins the table at the same time Maria and Benji return with their plates of food.

“Good morning everyone,” Jesse greets the group, earning warm smiles from everyone except your dad who just offers him a stiff wave.

“Mornin’ Jesse, ready to go?” You ask as you see he’s in his jacket and carrying his backpack of supplies already.

You have your stuff with you but your jacket is hanging on your chair and your backpack is by your feet.

“Almost, we’re just missing Ellie,” he says as he looks around the table. “Is she not here?”

Your dad shakes his head and responds for everyone. “No. I wanted her to come with me on patrol but I decided to let her sleep in instead.”

Your gaze lingers on your dad as you feel quite surprised that he’d want to take Ellie. It’s just he knows she’s trying to avoid him so he usually just rides with someone else. You have to wonder what made him so daring as to want to patrol with her.

“Oh, okay.” Jesse nods whilst your dad looks at the clock on the wall across from the table, and then gets up abruptly.

“I’m going to head out now. Be careful everyone.” He says simply and starts to walk around the table with the empty cup he’s going to discard on his way out.

“Be careful,” you tell him as you follow him with your eyes.

“You too,” he says back and caresses Teddy’s head as he passes by him. “Talk through the radio if you need help. We’ll try and get there as soon as possible.”

You nod in comprehension and before he walks away completely you face Teddy to address him. “Wave goodbye to your grandpa, Teddy. Say Bye-Bye,” you try to teach him while also slowly opening and closing your hand. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye, Teddy,” your dad stops to try and get a response.

Thankfully, your son raises one hand and mirrors your actions by opening and closing his hand.

“Bah,” he tries his best to say what you did, earning a grin from your dad and a laugh from everyone else.

“Good job buddy,” Apollo praises him.

“Bye Teddy,” your dad says one more time. “I’ll see ya later, cowboy.”

Teddy waves his hand wildly now that he started and doesn’t stop until he no longer sees your dad. After that, he drops his hand and pouts his bottom lip as his eyes fill with tears.

“It’s okay, look,” you try to distract him so he doesn’t cry for your dad by trying to offer him a small spoonful of food, but when he meets your eyes he keeps swerving every attempt, making you sigh and making Benji giggle as he watches every attempt with amusement.

“Still having a hard time,” Maria asks from across the table.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Mornings are still a fuss.” You say and put his food down to continue eating yours. All while Benji walks over and offers Teddy a spoonful of his soft food and actually gets Teddy to eat his food with glee.

“Of course,” you retort lightheartedly and scrunch your nose at your son.

Benji tries to offer him another spoonful of food but he’s stopped by his dad. “No more Benji, he has to eat his own food.”

Said boy walks back in defeat and plops himself back in his own seat, whilst Jesse takes your dad's seat while there’s still plenty of time left before you have to leave.

“What happened last night after I left?” Jesse asks, causing you and Apollo to share panicked and knowing looks.

You almost don’t want to share that Dina and Ellie kissed, but if you tell him that your dad shoved Seth, then you’ll have to tell him why he did. It’s just…it’s too complicated.

Why do they all have to kiss each other? It’s a good thing your friend group wasn’t so complicated.

“Well,” Apollo sighs as he finishes his breakfast and tries to get Teddy to eat in your stead. “There was quite a commotion actually.”

Jesse’s interest piques and Apollo leans in closer to share quieter since Seth is in the same room. “Ellie almost fought Seth, but ultimately got interrupted by Joel when he came in and shoved the old man to the floor.”

“No way,” Jesse gasps as he holds on to every word. “Why? What happened?”

Once again you and Apollo share a look before you interject this time. “Seth reacted badly to Ellie and…Dina kissing. I’m sorry Jesse.”

Said man seems to grow uninterested now and instead seems to be in his own mind for a moment.

“We shouldn’t gossip in public,” Maria warns the group of you, so you sit back and continue to eat your food while Apollo waits a moment.

“Are Dina and Ellie okay?” Jesse asks now with no sign of a grudge or anger, which you admire. You don’t think you would be as comfortable if you heard that one of your best friends kissed your ex, but that’s just you, so it’s a good thing that didn’t happen to you.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “Everyone is fine. Seth was just embarrassed. That’s all.”

Jesse hums.

“You should eat Jesse,” Maria tells him. “With this brewing storm, we don’t know if you’ll be out long. We’re hoping you won’t, but we never know. So eat and then if you could go get Ellie for me and tell her I need to talk to her before you leave, I would appreciate it.”

Without a fault Jesse nods and accepts Maria’s favor before he listens to her suggestion and goes to grab his breakfast, letting you comment on the messy relationship part.

“He’s a very good guy, I don’t think I could be so easily okay with my friend if they kissed my ex.”

“What did I just say,” Maria whispers her warning, but Apollo still chimes in nevertheless.

“Me neither.”

You look at him and find his gaze. “Oh?” You question teasingly with a questioning look.

“Oh.” He teases back before he leans in towards you. “It's a good thing we didn’t have to deal with that.”

You snicker. “You said it.”

He smiles with amusement and then strokes your chin, ending that conversation there since Jesse comes back and neither of you want to tease him. He’s too good for either of you to pick on him about that matter, so you let him be and instead focus on other unimportant matters that take up the time while you eat. Eventually, he leaves to do as Maria told him and you don’t waste a second of your time.

Breakfasts with your family aren’t uncommon but it’s the thought of mortal danger lurking nearby that makes you try and cherish this morning more than others, fearing in the back of your minds that it could be your last.

“You should take Hermes,” Apollo suggests, taking your attention away from an old couple carrying your son after they said he reminded them of their late son when he was a baby.

“With these infected under the snow she’ll sniff out any danger before you can be surprised by it,” Apollo adds, letting you know he hasn’t had a moment's peace since he was told the news and remembered you had to go out today.

“What about you and Teddy? You’ll need her with you too,” you argue softly, but he quickly rebuttals.

“I’d feel more comfortable if I knew she was with you and the others, so take her with you.”

Finding no stronger argument to use without ending up going back and forth, you offer your husband some peace of mind and give in. “Okay, I’ll take her…is that why you brought her with us?”

He chuckles softly and admits his intentions, making you smile with amusement before your attention drifts to the old couple as they hand you back your baby as your Uncle Tommy gets up on a sturdy chair to steal everyone’s attention and start the meeting.

“Now you're all probably wondering why we’re here after rumors have started spreading, so as to stop misinformation from spreading…yes, Kylie and Max ran into a group of infected that came out of a pile of their own dead and snow,” he pauses to let the people collect their thoughts amongst themselves.

Once the room silences again he continues. “We can’t be sure how many more there are, but we know we can’t ignore them. That’s why the town is on alert. Now, the most likely outcome is none of this is necessary, okay?”

You really hope so. You’ll have a knot in your stomach the entire time you’re out and unsure of your family’s well-being.

“You wanna remind me next week how I made y’all go through all this crap for no reason?” Your uncle continues to say. “Nothin’ will make me happier. But you know the drill. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best. Now half y’all is hung over and want me to shut up. But, uh,” he pauses briefly as you and the crowd laugh in response to his remark.

“I’ma go through this anyway ‘cause it’s been a minute. If you see flares, if you hear bells, stop what you’re doin’. You follow the plan. What’s the plan? Vanessa, what’s the plan?” You catch him pick on someone in front of the crowd.

“We go to the forest?” The little girl answers cluelessly, making people laugh and your uncle smile.

“To the forest?” Your uncle retorts. “Do not go to the forest, sweetheart. Be such a bad idea. Now, young ones, old ones, right quick into basements and cellars. You lock the doors, you reinforce, shelter in place ‘til we tell you it’s safe to come out. Now for the rest of us, where do we go?”

“Up,” the crowd says altogether.

Your uncle nods. “Up, that’s right,” he agrees. “Rooftops, second floors. What do we bring?”

“Guns!”

“That means—”

Before you can finish hearing what your uncle is going to say your attention is stolen by the sound of Ellie’s voice. “You wanted to—“

Before she can finish albeit, you see that Maria cuts her off to shush her so she can listen to your uncle. You however, make it hard for Ellie since you lean forward with your child in arms and wave his little hand at her whilst you offer her a warm smile.

Ellie smiles and waves at Teddy, but when she meets your gaze her smile fades slightly and she offers you a greeting nod, letting you then continue listening to your uncle.

“….Keep ‘em on you. Safeties. Please. Somebody shot themselves in the leg last week.”

“Earl!” Apollo and the rest of the crowd reveal with teasing laughs.

“Alright,” your uncle nods with a smile. “Don’t be Earl. Now, bigger weapons,” he moves on. “Security team will handle those. For the rest of you, if there’s a breach…god forbid, stay off the Main Street. Last place you wanna be, trust me on that one.”

You sigh with worry and hold onto Theo just a little tighter.

“Any questions?” Your uncle asks the crowd and waits. When he sees and hears nothing he finally finishes the meeting. “Alright then. Get with your group leaders. Spread the word to your neighbors. Let’s get everyone in the loop.”

“Go hug daddy,” you hear Maria tell Benji, and as a result, he’s quick to slide off the bar table. “Tell him he did good.”

Once Benji passes by you you address Maria before she can take Ellie with her. “I’m leaving soon. I hope nothing bad happens but either way, take care.”

Maria nods in comprehension. “Keep your ear open for any updates and be careful.”

“Of course,” you assure her and offer her a smile before you look at your partners. “I’ll meet you guys outside.”

Ellie nods while Jesse offers you a verbal response. “Yep.”

Without another word you and Apollo start to head out, but before you can make it outside, as you’re in the middle of the restaurant you throw up your hand and blurt out. “Bye Uncle Tommy!”

“Bye Sunny! Take care ya hear?!” He yells back and you throw a thumbs up before you finally make it outside without any more interruptions, catching your dog Hermes walking over to join you after she patiently waited for you to come out again.

“Hey, girl,” you greet her and crouch to pet her head. “I hope you ate all your breakfast we’re going out today. How does that sound?”

Hermes lifts her ears and tilts her head before she walks around you to rub herself against you wanting to be pet.

“Well, only ‘cause you’re so cute,” you tell her and gently scratch her side for just a little bit because time is something you don’t have anymore.

“Here,” Apollo interjects as you’re standing back up and when you face him you see him holding onto his old Firefly pendant. “My dad found it the other day stashed away somewhere. I know you fidget when you get nervous, so another pendant to add to your chain,” he says and closes the small gap between you to hang the metal chain around your neck, causing an immediate awe-struck smile to appear on your lips.

“Are you sure it’s not so I have you around my neck,” you poke fun and lean your face closer to his while Teddy grabs the pendant and studies it with fascination.

“Well,” he scoffs lightheartedly. “That’s exactly it. Actually.”

You giggle and press a small peck on his lips before you just wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a tight embrace.

“Be careful please,” you whisper nervously now.

You had been nervous ever since you heard the news about the Town being on alert, but you’ve been trying to put on a brave face as you told yourself over and over again that nothing is going to happen. Yet now that you’re so close to leaving, you’re so scared that something will happen while you’re away.

“I will be,” Apollo assures you as he rests his chin on the top of your head and rubs your back. “We’ll be okay. Don’t worry too much about us.

You let out a shaky breath and hug him tighter.

“You be careful out there too,” he says against your head as he presses a kiss on it. “If things get bad here and there, don't rush home. Don’t risk your life. Put yourself first and once the storm has passed come home. Otherwise don’t risk it. You know I can protect Teddy and myself.”

You want to fight him because even now every muscle in your body wants you to risk your life to come to their side if anything bad does happen, but you need to believe that this town won’t crumble.

“We’ve been through hell, it’s not anything I’m not used to. And you…you’re the strongest person I know,” he speaks sweetly, and with every word a part of you feels relieved while another feels more worried—“We’ll see each other again.”

You pull away and he brings his hand down to cup your cheek and offer you a charming smile before he leans in and steals a short yet passionate kiss.

“I love you,” you tell him words you’ll never tire of repeating.

“I love you too,” he redirects without hesitation.

You take in his words and keep them close to your heart as a form of comfort when you’re out.

“I love you to my Theo,” you now direct at your son who's distracted by trying to eat your pendant and making noise with the chain. “You be good and brave, okay?” You ask rhetorically before you press him against you and snuggle him for a good and long moment until you see Ellie and Jesse coming your way.

“Apollo!” Ellie exclaims before she runs over. “You’re not joining us?” She asks simply because he’s lenient with her when they happen to go on patrols together. It can be a real pain in the ass, but it’s also sweet that she ended up liking him after she told you not to give up your freedom for a man.

“Not today,” he lets her down. “I will soon though. I’m missing the action.”

“Yeah, you are,” she laughs

“Ah yes the action that comes after not following rules,” you quip and put your hand up so Jesse can give you a high five.

“You know what? The last time you guys lost the game, so it sounds like you’re both just sore losers,” Ellie remarks smugly. “So I’m choosing not to listen.”

Apollo clicks his tongue and shrugs with the same air of smugness Ellie was imbued with.

“Whatever, let’s go now, shall we?”

“Please!” Jesse agrees and with that, you set off to the stables where your horses are already waiting all saddled and everything. The only thing that’s missing is you to climb on, but first, you hug Teddy one last time, and then you throw your arms around Apollo to breathe in his scent and appreciate his warmth as if you’ll be leaving for months when it’s only a couple hours out of the day.

“I love you. Take care, okay?” He repeats as he holds you just as tight.

“I love you. You take care too.”

You draw in a heavy breath and linger in his embrace for a moment longer until you force yourself away to hand Teddy to Apollo. Albeit rather than mounting the horse right away you hold Apollo's gaze for a second longer before you finally climb on your horse.

“You take care of them, Hermes,” Apollo orders your dog and she watches him seriously for a moment as if locking on to her task before she runs off and waits in front of the gates.

“Say bye to your mommy,” you hear Apollo tell Teddy, and when you look over you see him trying to get Teddy to wave. “Bye-bye Mommy!”

Teddy watches Apollo’s hand and then looks over at you on top of your horse and doesn’t do anything for a few seconds. Albeit before you can walk away he opens and closes his hand as he tries his best to offer you a goodbye. “Bah!”

You grin and wave at him. “Bye-bye, baby!”

He waves his hand frantically and shows off his bottom teeth with a smile, causing Apollo to smile in adoration, and letting that perfect and beautiful moment be the last image you choose to hang onto before you turn your horse and walk toward the gate.

No matter if Apollo’s worried face, and Teddy’s sad face as those gates open and welcome the sight of a dangerous horizon hurt your heart, you still cling to that perfect image of them.

“Bye,” you wave at them one last time and watch Apollo wave back before you draw in a deep breath and look ahead, noticing Hermes excitedly run past the gates first before Ellie and Jesse follow, leaving you behind to draw out a deep breath and then follow.

As to if that breath was relieving? It wasn’t. In fact that knot in your stomach grows in size as those gates close behind you, cutting off the connection to your family.

You know you won’t feel better until the town is no longer on alert, so until then you’ll live with that knot.

“Are we worrying about that?” You hear Ellie ask and when you follow her line of gaze, past Hermes is a dark storm in the distant mountains.

“Nah, it’ll just be up in the mountains,” Jesse offers Ellie some consolation.

“Fucking hope so,” Ellie retorts. “Ten seconds in, I already can’t feel my ass.”

“What ass?” You quip and slowly churn your head with a smirk, meeting her squinted gaze immediately before receiving the middle finger.

“That’s why she can’t feel it…because she’s got none,” Jesse joins, making you snort and making Ellie look offended.

“What? Why are you ganging up on me about my ass? And aren't you supposed to have a stick up your ass when we’re out here,” Ellie snaps at Jesse, so he slowly glances at her and shakes his head.

“I can take things lightly when my partners listen and follow the rules,” he counterattacks, making you only laugh harder.

“When my partners listen and follow the rules,” Ellie mocks him in a deep voice before she snaps her head toward you and points her finger at you. “Aren’t you supposed to be sulking?”

“Hey!” You and Jesse both remark in sync.

“Not cool,” Jesse interjects while your smile completely falls.

“Right,” Ellie sighs as she sees the error of her ways right off the bat. “Sorry. Sorry.”

You didn’t actually get offended by her comment but you still appreciate her apology.

“For whatever it is worth…I'm sure when we make it home, the town will just be more reinforced,” Ellie offers some consolation. “I’m sure only that storm will be the most of our worries.”

You look over at the storm and nod slowly. “Yeah, it’s just…the news has me all nervous. That’s all.” You say and lead the group into a silence that turns out to be quite the companion.

Having Hermes leading the patrol is of immense help, she is able to take some stress off all three of you since she has the advantage of smelling the infected before you can see them, but the further you walk the darker the sky is until thick grey and white clouds completely cover the sky. The howling winds turn from cold to icy, and the snow goes from graceful to feeling like it’s attacking you.

Even so, you keep going on and finally break the silence. “So…my dad wanted to take you with him on patrol,” you say loud enough so you can be heard over the wind and over your scarf masking your mouth and nose. “Why is that so? He’s been good at giving you your space when it comes to partnering up for patrols.”

You glance at Ellie and wait for her to respond or at least spare you a glance, but her eyes are locked ahead, and Jesse actually answers.

“Don’t, I tried. She says no one should worry about her and Joel.”

You nod slowly. “Oh! Okay…” You trail off and steal one last glance at her because you know you’ll get some kind of response later on when Jesse is not around. As to what you’ll talk about now?

You can’t mention her kiss with Dina with Jesse around, that’d be weird, but the silence will only have you thinking about this cold more than you already are, so you share something that comes to mind.

“Apollo and I decided last night that we want to try for a second baby.”

Jesse and Ellie glance at you and they both offer you a nod that says good for you but their smiles vary, whereas Jesse offers you a sweet and proud smile, Ellie offers you a small and tight-lipped awkward smile that you know is far from sarcastic and filled with genuine joy. It’s just awkward.

“We both want Teddy to at least have one sibling,” you add. “We both have siblings and we want Teddy to have that same connection too.”

“That’s good!” Jesse says. “I would have loved to have a brother. I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thank you, Jesse.”

“I’m sure you will get what you want,” Ellie offers her kind words. “But if you do have a second kid I think I’m going to start charging you for babysitting.”

“Ha!” You laugh mockingly.

“I mean Teddy loves me,” Ellie argues. “And I’m great. There’s no one better than me.”

You flash her a happy look but nothing else because then a voice breaks through your radios. “Cottonwood patrol…”

“Hold that thought,” you direct at Ellie before you pull your scarf off your face and look at Jesse. “You make any of that?”

Jesse shakes his head and chooses to talk through the walkie for the both of you. “What? Repeat.”

You bring your radio closer to your ear in hopes you can hear better this time.

“Cottonwood patrol, return to Jackson ASAP.”

You swallow thickly and thoughtfully glance down at your hand grabbing your reign while Jesse answers back. “Yeah, alright but I think we’re too far out to make it back.”

You then look back at the path you came from before looking at a different path and finally over at Hermes sticking closer by now.

“I know a spot, we can hole up there,” Jesse lets Amy know through the radio.

“Copy. Shelter in place until we contact you. Stay warm.”

“Yeah, you too, over!”

“What spot?!” Ellie asks after Jesse puts his radio away.

“This way!” He says without giving anything away and leads the group into a trot. Well just Ellie and his horse, you have your horse fall behind as you can’t help but think about one person out on patrol too through this terrible blizzard.

Your dad and Dina will most likely not try to go back to Jackson with the storm being this out of control, but there’s also hardly any places warm enough for them to stay at to wait out the storm, and only a few people know about Eugene’s 7/11 hideout.

If you guide them here it won’t take too long. You know your way around without fear of getting lost, and with the reports of an increase in infected around the area, it will be better to be in a bigger group and have more guns. Moreover, if something dangerous does wind up at Jackson then it will be better if you arrive together when you go back home, it’ll help with potential plans.

Plus it’s doubtful your dad's radio works so high up where they are which means they most likely didn’t get the news to go back home or find shelter…

You should go get them—no you will. It’s better to be together than apart, and it’s better to be at a lower altitude to catch any incoming news.

“Jesse! Ellie!” You call out for them over the wind before you make your horse run to fall at their side and gain their immediate attention—“I’m going to go get Dina and my dad to bring them down here! They’re still out there it's impossible to get any signal with this storm and them being higher up. Plus it’ll be safer in numbers just in case anything happens!”

Ellie’s eyebrows knit and Jesse doesn’t try to stop you, he just questions one thing. “Are you sure? It’s hell out here!”

You nod. “I know my way around and I have Hermes! We’ll be back quick!”

“I’m going!” Ellie exclaims and you quickly shake your head.

“No! Don’t leave Jesse alone! Stay! I’ll be okay! I’ll bring them over here!”

“Wait! Do you know where we’re going?!” She asks.

You nod. “Yes! Go! I’ll be right back!”

Ellie seems hesitant and like she wants to disobey, but Jesse agreeing seems to change her mind. “Okay! Be careful!”

“You too!” You say back and then look at your dog. “Hermes, follow me to Copper Mine, girl!!”

Said dog barks and quickly changes course along with you, not daring to miss a beat as she continues to navigate with you at a quicker speed. Almost becoming one as you travel through strong winds and over the growing blankets of snow. Except she has killer instincts you don't which keep her completely in tune with her surroundings in a way you never could.

It’s why you love having dogs. Like Austin, your previous dog that didn’t make it back home, Hermes is reliable and loyal, not daring to leave as it all may seem terrifying and you get further away from home.

You only hope you can lead her to your dad and Dina and not have a failed mission. What would you do then?

You’ll be stuck in the same dilemma you want to help your dad from…

No! You can’t think that way! You can’t get in your head in general, home will be there when you get back. Apollo and Theo will be safe, so will your uncle, Maria, and Benji, and this storm will pass.

Yes, that’s what you need to focus on.

You can’t let the knot in your stomach grow or it will consume you.

Thus with a deep breath and after tucking your flying pendant under your jacket you nudge your horse to run faster, resulting in almost catching up to Hermes, but not quite, and then not at all when she strains every muscle to sprint away.

“Hermes!” You yell out. “Wait!”

You lose sight of her, so you have your horse sprint after her.

The falling snow hides her tracks, making it difficult to follow her every step, but then through the wind, you hear her bark again and again, louder and louder until you find her after she’s come to a stop just at the foot of a hill and a mystery girl.

Yes, it’s no illusion, it’s a real girl. Not infected. A human girl standing on top of a dangerous field of dead infected like a freighted animal stuck on a frozen pond cautiously yearning for help, but waiting to see if you’re friend or foe.

“Hermes,” you whisper sharply and snap your eyes to your dog. “Quiet.”

Said dog immediately goes quiet and stays put, darting her eyes from the field of dead infected and to the girl you don’t hesitate helping. How could you when you see her stuck in such a dilemma?

“Slow,” you warn her and immediately offer her your hand to let her know you’re a friend. “Infected,” you warn her of what you heard just this morning. “Under there.” You point and move your other hand to grab your revolver. “Come slowly.”

The mystery girl's eyes fall to the ground to inspect the field of corpses for a moment too long.

“Hurry,” you press as quietly but as loud as you can be, making the girl's eyes finally fly to you before she does as you said, moving slowly towards you in hopes she didn’t already alert the infected of her presence.

“It’s ok,” you assure her. “I got your back.”

The girl watches where she steps and makes sure that something doesn’t pop out of the snow and takes her down with them, while also looking up at you in hopes you won't suddenly vanish like a dream and if she’s any closer.

Thankfully, she makes it more than halfway, but unluckily she was not undetected. From one moment to another, the ground beneath her begins to sink, causing Hermes to start barking, giving warning of the approaching infected and hurrying the mystery girl she found.

“Just run,” you bellow and wave her over before looking at the sinking field of snow and at the dead with horror. “Run Hermes. Ahead!”

Without being told where to go now, your dog doesn’t hesitate, she turns and sprints away, leaving you behind like you told her to so she can be ahead of the incoming herd, while the girl gets closer, but all too quickly like a breaking ice lake, the blanket of corpses completely breaks apart and outcome living infected.

“You’re gonna have to jump on! I got you!” You yell and hurry her up with more urgency until she finally reaches your horse and trusts you by giving you her hand and letting you help her as she jumps on.

Before you can check if she’s secure as the ground looks like a sea of infected, you urge your horse forward and she quickly breaks into a sprint after Hermes’ trail.

“There’s an old mining place up ahead!” You let the girl know louder than before because the sound of the infected grows louder than the howling wind as you hear what could be more than twenty of them rise from the ground and run after you ravenously.

Luckily, the mining place is close, you’re able to reach it rather quickly, but since you can't follow the path to the gate you end up approaching the wall and find Hermes too, but she’s smaller than a horse and she doesn’t wait. She goes ahead to try and find a way in without you, leaving you to try and navigate through the thick of the woods to reach the gate or find another way in.

You could’ve gone around but the herd of infected is coming at you too fast, they’ll cut you off way before you can even circle to the gate. Moreover, cutting the woods will slow you down and the infected will be able to surround you, so there’s no other choice. You have to climb up the wall, and luckily, you come across the wall with the fire escape.

“We’re going have to jump and climb over!” You let the girl know. “There’s no other way around unless we want to get surrounded by those infected! Do you understand?!”

You look back at the girl to get your answer some way or the other, but you see her looking back at the quickly approaching herd.

“Girl! Do you understand!”

The girl's eyes snap to you and with her lips slightly parted in disbelief she nods.

“Okay, now!” You order and swing your leg over to jump off. The girl quickly follows suit so you’re able to smack your horse's side—“Go girl! Run off!”

With fear and a task, your horse runs off through the forest, letting you lead the girl to the fire escape, and be the first to use the wall as an advantage to kick off the wall and gain momentum to jump and grab that last step. Thereafter, without looking back, but hearing the ravenous herd you quickly ascend the stairs in a panic. When you reach the top you finally let yourself peek down and other than seeing the girl climbing up fast, you also see the infected finally catch up and throw themselves against the wall in desperate attempts to reach you.

“Give me your hand!” You yell at the girl and throw your hand down.

The girl looks up to see where your hand is before she turns her head away from the falling snow hitting her face, and hops to be able to get ahold of your hand so you can help her up.

Albeit, when you’re pulling her up, suddenly you feel a tug, causing you to slip and causing the girl to sink towards that hungry herd.

“I can’t reach my gun! Get it off!” You exclaim and drag yourself back, but the force of the infected is strong and it manages to drag the girl down more, causing you to go forward as you refuse to let go. Which, you could've and you would have been able to escape, but even if you don’t know her, leaving her to die would weigh on your consciousness, so you keep pulling until finally she manages to get herself free and lets you pull her over the wall with ease.

When you land on the floor on the other side, you continue to run because you know that the herd will try to find a way in one way or another, and where you are now is a dead end.

“No use trying to find a way in through those buildings,” you tell the girl and continue to lead the way while stealing some glances at her. “Just follow me.”

The girl glances at the quiet buildings as she most likely doubts you, but she follows you around the corner regardless, and you come across a narrow path in between a wired fence and the side of a building.

It’s a real fucking ballsy risk going through that with the infected finding their way around, but fuck it you have no other choice, so you lead the charge without looking back even if you hear the approaching herd. You just make sure the girl is behind you and push your way through with your breaths growing heavy as your heart only seems to race faster. It was already pounding when you thought you were simply coming to find your dad, but now your chest hurts with how fast it’s running with fear, and determination not to die.

Moreover, that already overworking heart jumps when the infected find their way around and throw themselves against the fence, managing to bend it with the strength of their piling bodies, and forcing you on your hands and knees as the weak fence folds over you and the girl.

Now besides trying to outrun them, you’re forced to try and avoid their reaching hands trying to grab what they can. Which is hard to do when the fence is squeezing you further as they keep pushing and piling on.

It almost seems like they’re going to manage to grab you and the girl as the fence falls over you, but before any of them can manage to catch you, you make it across to the open space.

Yet when you shove yourself to your feet, suddenly something grabs a hold of the back of your jacket and yanks you back.

You scream out and reach for your gun, but when you face your attacker, you see your dad.

“Inside now!” He bellows.

You shake off your surprise and relief and argue. “No! Wait! A girl…” you trail off as the person you’re talking about finally makes it to the open space. However, after her is an infected that quickly tackles her to the ground when she tries to push herself to her feet, causing you to raise your gun to kill the runner, but your dad is quicker and beats you to it, letting the girl crawl back with shock.

“Give me your hand!” Your dad tells her as she keeps backing away from the infected. “Give me your hand!” He insists louder and manages to snap her out of whatever stupor she was stuck in.

“Can you run?” He asks the girl after he helps her up.

“Yeah,” the girl says between pants.

“Run! That way!” He exclaims and turns her around, making you finally turn to round another corner and run inside where you know he came from, and where you hope Dina is, but you don’t take your time to check. You wave the girl in and then after when your dad runs in and closes the door, you help him find something to barricade the door to hold back the infected for at least a few minutes.

“Joel?” You feel relief when you hear Dina from the ground. “Joel?!”

“Up here,” your dad says after the second call. “I’m comin’. I’m comin’.”

“This, this,” you say as you find a thick slab of wood.

“Apollo?!” You hear Dina shout your husband's name.

“No!” You correct her. “It’s me! It’s me!”

“I got it, I got it,” your dad says in a panic before adding something else. “Your horse and your dog are down there,” your dad assures you as he snatches the slab of wood from your hand, letting you then turn to do as he said.

However, first, you finally address the girl as you find her sitting against a pillar not far from the door.

“You good?” You ask her with genuine concern, noticing that she still looks frazzled, so you press again. “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good!” She finally answers still between pants.

“Any bites?”

She shakes her head so you wave her over.

“Okay, good, come with us. We can help you.”

The girl doesn't move but the force against the door sounds louder so as your dad passes by he interjects with urgency. “Now!”

You reach over for the girl's arm and help her to her feet before you pull her with you as you run to the stairs.

“Hey, are you okay?” You hear your dad ask behind you after he fell behind on purpose. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” you assure him as you let the girl go as you descend to the second floor. “I’m okay. I’ll explain everythin’ later. Just know I’m here for you.”

Before he can answer Dina calls out your name with surprise even after you made yourself known.

“I’ll explain later,” you repeat yourself and muster a relieved smile when you see that Hermes and your horse managed to find their way around without getting hurt or caught by the infected.

“What do we do?” Dina asks your dad now as she hears the infected trying to get in.

“Good girls,” you praise your horse and Hermes as you reach them. “You did good.” You offer them a smile.

“We leave!” Your dad shouts without thinking too much about it.

“Back to Jackson?!” Dina quips as your dad reaches his horse. “It’s too far! We’ll freeze before we get halfway.”

“I’m aware,” your dad says as he mounts his horse.

“Where the fuck did they even come from?” Dina quips. “Where did you come from?” She directs at the girl now.

“The mountain,” the girl deadpans.

“I helped her,” you explain as you jump on your horse. “And the infected came from under the snow and a pile of their dead. What Max and Kylie said is true.”

Dina bats her lashes with shock before all your attention flies to the banging and shrieking that grows louder.

“Hermes,” you grab your dog's attention. “On girl.”

With some hesitation your dog backpedals before she hops on your lap, making your horse walk back as she’s caught off guard.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” you try to calm her down.

“Okay, guys,” Dina interjects, directing her comment at you and your dad. “If we stay here, we die. If we go out there, we die.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m thinkin’!” Your dad snaps.

“Where were you?” Dina now directs at you.

“I was with Jesse and Ellie, but my plan to get you two to join us at the 7/11 won’t work now with the damn infected. They’ll swarm us there in seconds.”

“The lodge,” the girl cuts in, making you and Dina both look at her right away—“My friends are holed up in a lodge halfway up the mountain. Not far. If the infected are down here, maybe there aren’t any more up there.”

“Yes!” You agree right away. “We’ll be at an advantage in that lodge. That can work!”

Your dad's eyes linger on you before he looks back at the infected still trying to force themselves in, and then lastly he faces the girl with the plan. “Fuck it, it’s all we got. Are your friends armed?”

The girl nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. We're gonna need ‘em. Get on.”

The girl looks over at you and sees that you’re carrying your dog now so she has no choice but to ride with your dad.

Thus right in the nick of time as the infected finally barge in, the girl mounts the horse with your dad, letting you all depart and run back out to the cold with no other option. It’s either get chased through the storm or stay here and die.

Which doesn't sound good, both options are quite morbid, but you have a better chance at surviving running to that lodge. The high ground will let you get a view of every infected that will go after you which is something that wouldn’t even be possible if you met up with Ellie and Jesse.

It is true that perhaps the ammo won’t be enough, even if you join forces with the girl's friends, but when you're at that lodge you can ask for help from Jackson, or even Ellie and Jesse. You just need to make it there.

You cut through the storm as fast as your horses can take you. You avoid thinking of the worst, but when you steal a glimpse back, or when you focus on the sound of the infected, it sounds like more than you’ve ever faced before and your hope threatens to dwindle.

How is it even possible that so many have been hiding around Jackson? Has every patrol been for nothing? Was your plan to lead them away even going to work if you were able to go through with it?

What if they change their course to home?

But how would they, right? As long as you’re not leading them there they won’t think of running toward Jackson, right?

Right!

Right.

Right…

After a while of running, that intense and annoying sound of the infected no longer seems to infiltrate your ears. All you hear is that same howling of the wind, so you look back to try and see if you can still catch a glimpse, but the snow clouds your views, forcing you to only see screens of white.

It’s not until your dad brings everyone to a stop at an overlook near the lodge that you see that your fear has come true…

The gate blocking the dangers of the world from your home and your family is burning. That’s why…that’s why you stopped hearing the infected.

“What?” Dina gasps before she sees it too. The fire. “Oh god.”

“Daddy,” you whisper with concern and fear creeping up trying to poison your thoughts, but you don’t let yourself focus on it. You push it away and in doing so, as you’re lost in your mind you miss the way the girl's eyes bounce between you and your dad with surprise.

“They’ll be okay,” your dad quickly throws back at you to try and assure your already weeping heart—“but I have to go back.”

“We won’t make it,” Dina shouts what you know well enough.

“If I don’t make it, I don’t make it.”

“We have to go,” you support his decision as you think about your son Theo, your husband Apollo, and your Uncle and his family. “We have to help. They need us. Teddy—”

“No, you and Dina go to the lodge and get the reinforcements,” your dad barks back as he looks over at you to try and offer some consolation.

“We’re almost there!” The girl interrupts before anyone can make up their minds. “The lodge is just up ahead. It’s like a minute.”

You look at the girl and then look back at Jackson in the distance.

Maybe she’s right, but your family is there and you can’t see any waves of infected, which means they’re inside.

“But,” you protest and keep looking at the town imagining your family.

“We can help,” the girl keeps insisting. “We got blankets. Ammo! My friends can help you get back. We can fight.”

You look away from Jackson and meet her persistent gaze.

“You helped me,” she says as she sees the worry and distress written clearly on your face. “Let me help you. I owe you that.”

You hold her gaze for a moment and she nods to press what she said. Yet no matter how kind her words are she’s not the one who wins you over. It’s your dad.

“There’s no other choice. We need more guns if we want to go,” your dad tries his own way to reassure you as he makes up his mind. “Teddy and Apollo will be fine. You have to put yourself first in order to help them though.”

He’s right…thus you nod to let them know you finally agree.

“Fast!” Your dad exclaims and makes his horse break into a run to lead you and Dina to the lodge.

A great and deep concern still nags at your heart, but you choose to trust the girl.

You honestly didn’t expect anything in return for saving her, but you still appreciate her offer, and charge toward the lodge with that gesture warming a piece of your worried heart.

Eventually, when you reach the lodge the girl's friends are outside, seeming to have been guarding or looking for her, whatever it was, when they spot all the horses charging their way, they don’t greet you with guns.

Perhaps it was only because the girl is easy to spot riding with your dad, but either way, they help dismount your horses before the girl could even tell them.

The girl that helped you even pets Hermes when she jumps off you, further spreading that warmth in your heart.

“Inside!” You hear the girl say. “Inside!”

You watch the girl be led away by a tall guy and then catch the others tying the horses to the broken gate before you lastly notice your dad reach Dina’s side as she’s slumped over cradling her shivering body. Hence, you quickly run to her and mirror your dad's gesture by wrapping your arms around her as well to pass her as much warmth as you can offer.

“Inside Hermes. Quickly,” you order your dog and watch her quickly run off to get out of the cold. After that you turn to face Dina, seeing how much she’s suffering.

“Oh god Dina,” you gasp with worry and rub her arm harder to try and pass her more warmth.

“Are you okay?” Your dad asks you as he leans forward to try and study you.

“Yeah,” you assure him. “I’m fine. Dina though,” you mention and let her go to slip your scarf off your neck and wrap it around her. “Just remember not to close your eyes okay?”

Dina nods almost weakly and you go back to hugging her.

Once you’re inside your dad takes his coat off and hangs it around Dina to try and get her warmer, whilst your bare neck that was already being pinched by the cold, stings less, but with your entire body suffering because of the chilling cold you hardly feel content. It’s only once you’re taken to a room upstairs with a burning chimney that the coldness trying to freeze your body begins to melt away.

If only you could say the same for Dina who finds no relief even inside. Not yet at least. Hermes on the other hand curls herself up in a spot in front of the fire.

“Stay by the fire I’m going to try and contact Jackson,” your dad directs at you as he departs your side to head to the big windows.

“Okay. If you can’t reach them try Ellie and Jesse. Maybe they can relay the message for you,” you let him know, making him peer over at you and offer you a comprehensive nod. After that, you then focus back on Dina to try and make her feel warmer.

“You’ll feel better soon,” you try to assure her as you grab her hands and rub them to pass her friction.

However, she then pulls away to try and take her coat off.

“No, no, no, uh let’s keep your coat on, alright?” You hear someone stop her before you can and when you look over you see that one of the girl's friends is no longer hiding under her hood, in fact, she looks familiar.

Have you seen her before?

“It’s okay,” the girl you don’t know if you remember tells Dina as she reaches her other side. “I think I see just a little frostbite on your wrist.”

You gasp and lean forward to probe. “Can you help her?”

The girl meets your gaze and her eyes linger on you before she quickly darts her eyes away and nods. “Yeah…it’s not too bad. I’m gonna take a look.”

You nod and loosen your grip around Dina’s arm to let the girl take her glove off.

“Easy,” the girl says as she reveals the large black and blue spot that had already spread on Dina’s wrist— “we’re gonna raise your body temperature up slowly, okay?”

“What’s the…who are you?” Dina asks shakily and when you look at her you see her eyes focused past the girl, so you follow her line of gaze and catch a backpack with a yellow patch that has a wolf and three words inscribed on it, ‘W.L.F’.

Wolf?

You recognize that insignia. It’s from Washington. A libertarian group near Seattle. Yeah. You heard about it when you were a Firefly because Marlene would talk about it—Or rave about it.

“Hang on. I gotta jump on this, or you’re gonna lose skin,” the girl doesn’t answer Dina as she continues to help her.

“Okay everybody grab blankets, ammo, whatever weapons you have. We’re headin’ out in three minutes,” your dad announces without discussing it with the others you don’t know.

“You’re all a long ways from Washington,” you break your silence and let Dina go to turn and face the room, seeing all eyes fall on you, and hearing a silence pass where the tall guy and a slightly shorter guy with dark hair pass each other looks. While a black girl next to your dad looks at you surprised.

“WLF,” you point to the backpack. “Washington Liberation Front.”

Again there’s more silence before the girl you came with nods and finally offers you something. “Yeah…you know them?” She asks with her eyebrows knitted together.

“Well,” you sigh. “I never met one, but I’ve heard about them. Yes, a long time ago.”

The girl swallows thickly and nods before she blinks rapidly and suddenly changes the subject. “Uh, sorry, I’m-I’m Abby. I didn’t have the chance to tell you.”

You offer her a half smile still full of sweetness.

“Nora,” she continues and points at the tall black girl next to your dad before she points at the guys by the entrance. “Manny, Owen, and Mel,” she lastly points at the girl tending to Dina, and again you can't remember where you know her from. It’s killing you now.

“Jackson,” your dad says through the radio as he turns away without caring about what was said. “Come in. Tommy, come in. Do you copy?”

“Her name's Dina,” Abby lets Mel know who she’s helping before she points at you and says your name which you didn’t give her, but Dina did say it so that’s where she got it from.

“Jackson, come in,” you hear your dad try again as he wanders away from his spot. “Jackson!”

“And he,” Abby continues. “Is Joel.”

“Hey, Jackson, do you copy?” You focus on your dad not giving up trying to contact home, missing the silence that passes after Abby shares all your names.

“Does anyone copy? Any patrols, anyone?”

It’s quiet from the other end and quiet where you are, so you just focus on the hope and desperation you feel to be answered by anyone at home so they can let you know if they’re all alive. It’s why you get surprised by the sudden arm that wraps around your throat and squeezes tightly as they also press the cold head of a gun against the side of your head, warning you to keep still and keep from fighting.

However, even then your focus firstly drives to Dina as you’re hit with concern, catching her also being held at gunpoint by the guy Manny. Nora is behind them and Mel is still by the fire, so it means you’re being held by Owen. You can feel him towering over you. Which leaves Abby still by the fire and your dad unaware.

Thus, you call out quickly as Hermes jumps from her spot and begins to bark viciously.

“Dad. Dad, Dad!”

Said man stops talking to the radio and snaps around seeing Dina be threatened first before his eyes land on you and widen before he tries to reach for his gun.

Albeit he immediately gets stopped. “No,” Nora warns and when your eyes drift over you see her pointing a rifle at your dad.

“The dog!” Abby sneers as Hermes goes wild, but doesn’t attack because you haven’t commanded her yet. If they were infected she would’ve already ended them, but since they’re living humans she waits for her signal.

“Tell it to go outside!” Abby orders. “Or I will shoot it.”

“Hermes,” you call out loudly and grab Owen‘s arm in an attempt to pull him off, but his grip is strong, so you don’t have a choice. “Outside. Go outside.”

Hermes doesn’t listen; she keeps barking as she backs away to try and be at your dad's side.

“Now!” Abby bellows.

“Hermes!” You yell. “Outside! Now!”

The dog goes quiet and then breaks into a run to leave the room, letting Abby approach the door to slam it shut before she returns.

“Don’t move,” Owen warns your dad.

“You’re holding the sole reason I’m not doing anything,” your dad snaps as Nora who shows off her bald head now walks to each one of you to take your weapons and your radio while still pointing her gun at your dad.

“We’re not gonna hurt them,” Abby tells your dad. “Not if you cooperate.”

You glance at her and then find your dad again, feeling nothing but confusion, fear, frustration, and betrayal.

“We’re just gonna put Dina to sleep for a while,” Abby adds. “Trust me it’s for the best…Do it.”

There’s a moment's hesitation before you hear Abby sneer. “If you don’t do it, I’m gonna smash her in the fuckin’ head.”

You begin to pant and try to remove Owen’s arm again, but he squeezes harder before he shifts just slightly.

“Abby, what about her?” He asks, making you look over and meet Abby’s gaze at the same time she looks over at you, catching at that moment, the rage you didn’t catch before.

“Keep holding her,” Abby tells Owen. “Keep her awake. The entire time.”

You swallow thickly out of nervousness and then let your eyes flicker back to your dad, seeing his own confusion and anger.

“You wanna rob us? Fine, take what you want,” your dad interjects as he keeps his hands up.

“Do we look like raiders to you?” Abby retorts as she takes her coat off.

“No,” your dad deadpans.

“What do we look like?”

Your dad's eyes bounce around the room before he faces Abby and gives her a response. “Military. Fireflies?”

And at the moment it hits you where you know Mel from. She stitched up your wound at the hospital. She’s the girl that was learning to be gentle. She…she’s doing this?

“Used to be,” Abby says with a quieter rage. “Haven’t you heard? There are no more Fireflies. They’re all gone.”

You continue to pant and look down as you begin to realize why they’re here.

They’re here for revenge because of what your dad did. Because of what he took from them. Hope.

“Okay,” you hear someone whisper before you hear Dina begin to squirm and argue.

“No, get—Get that shit away from me—”

You look over and see Mel with a syringe in her hand.

“What is that?” You cut in with concern. “What are you doing to her?”

Mel doesn’t look back; she just speaks forward as she grabs Dina’s hand and gets the syringe closer to her. “This is gonna put her to sleep. It’s going to put you to sleep for one hour. That is all, I promise. I promise,” she repeats and directs it at your dad first and then finally at you.

“I’ll be gentle,” she says at you, making your face contort with rage before you kick back and bite down on Owen’s arm, causing him to grunt and loosen his hold.

Thus thereafter, you shove him away without a plan, but you do quickly spot a shotgun by the chimney and try to lunge for it.

Albeit Abby lunges forward and swings her fist, but you manage to avoid her swing and counter back with a right hook that lands across her jaw. You then lunge for the gun, but you’re suddenly kicked at the side, making you yelp out before you’re kicked down.

“Stop!” You hear your dad bark, while Hermes begins to go crazy again outside the door this time—“Leave her. Just. Leave her.”

Someone grabs the back of your hood and yanks you back to pick you off the floor and press you against them before they wrap their arm around your throat again, squeezing so hard you can't breathe.

“Pull that shit again,” Abby hisses at you as she holds her offended area. “And I’ll fucking shoot her.”

You look over at the girl you failed to help and see that Manny presses the gun harder against Dina’s head.

“Understand? Nod if you understand.”

Owen’s grip loosens so you give her what she wants and nod, letting Mel finally poke Dina with the needle and inject her with whatever medicine she brought.

“No. No. No!” Dina protests, but it can’t be avoided anymore. She goes down, making Manny lay her on the ground.

“See?” Abby points out. “Breathing.”

You keep watching Dina until you’re able to make out her back rising and falling.

“That’s a nice scar you have on your right temple there,” Abby adds, picking your gaze off Dina to look back at her. “I'd say you’re about, what, six feet? In your 60s now? You actually are pretty handsome. Congrats on that.” She chuckles, whilst your face contorts with disgust and disbelief.

“I’m gonna give you one chance to tell the truth, Joel,” Abby keeps on going more seriously now. “If you do…let’s face it. We’ll all know. I’ll let them live.”

Your eyes widen and fly to your dad whilst he immediately finds you too.

“Wait, Abby, I thought—”

“Shut up!” She cuts Mel off angrily, causing Hermes to start scratching the door for a moment before she stops barking and you hear her run off.

“Where was the last place you saw the Fireflies?” Abby continues to address your dad, and with that question, your dad glances at Dina before once again meeting your gaze and giving Abby what she’s asking for.

“Salt Lake,” he says and looks at her.

“At least you’re honest,” she says as she steps back and then turns to approach the chimney.

“Wait,” you whisper as you see her grab the shotgun. “Wait. Wait. I saved your life,” your voice quivers as you’re unable to hold yourself strong like your dad.

“What life?” She counters and turns around to point the shotgun at your dad for a second before she hits the trigger, managing to hit your dad straight in the knee, and causing him to yell out and fall to the ground.

“NO!” You cry and pull away to try and immediately reach your dad, however, Owen only secures his hold and keeps you put.

“Please,” you beg with tears immediately falling from your eyes.

“Tourniquet him,” Abby says.

“Daddy,” you whimper.

“Mel, let’s just do what we came to do,” Owen’s words register behind you, but all you can focus on is your dad.

“Daddy,” you cry again, making him put his hand up to try and stop whatever you plan to do whilst Mel approaches your dad with her belt to do as Abby told her to do. Thus when she fastens the belt above your dad's wounded knee, he screams out, forcing you to quickly look away and try to cover your ears.

“Look at him,” you hear Abby spat before she walks over and grabs your chin, making your dad use his energy to sneer at her.

“Don’t…don’t touch…her.”

“I said look at him,” she threatens in a low voice, so with no other choice, you slowly raise your eyes off the floor and look over at your dad.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, baby. Just do as she says,” he whispers at you with every effort focused on looking assuring as he’s writhing with pain.

“You’re tough,” Abby speaks again as she slowly drops her hand from your chin in order to approach your dad and crouch before him.

“I guess you probably have to be, killing all those people. Do you know how many you killed that day? Did you count as you went, or…” she trails off and shakes her head. “I guess maybe it just didn’t matter? Eighteen soldiers. And one doctor. You remember that one. An unarmed doctor you shot in the head. Yeah.” She nods as she sees that your dad is recalling that day.

“That was my dad,” she reveals, making you gulp. “Guess you probably already figured. The nurses said you barely even looked at him when you pulled the trigger. And then, you just walked right past his body and out the door. But I looked at him.” She nods as you hear her voice break. “I saw him. I was 19.” She goes quiet and sighs as she looks away for a moment.

“And he’s sorry,” you interject for your dad with tears running down your cheeks. “He’s sorry. Just…please,” you sob. “Let him go. He won’t ever walk normally again. Please.”

Abby slowly looks back at you with a side eye before she pushes herself up and walks to you with her eyes red, brimming with tears, and filled with rageful grief

“You can beg all you want. Cry. Hope for things to change. I will let you do what I never got the chance to do. It doesn't matter. At the end, you'll know what it’s like to get your father ripped from you before you can even say goodbye,” she says without letting her tears fall and with every word feeling like a bullet to the flesh because deep down past the denial and diminishing hope, you know she means what she said.

“I’ve been in a militia for five years now,” she changes the subject and turns around to slowly return to your dad again. “Seattle. I’d warn you not to go there, but little chance of that. Anyway, our commander trained us to follow a code. We don’t kill people that can’t defend themselves.”

At that you feel the grip around you falter, but not enough to let you find a way out.

“And right now,” Abby whispers as she crouches again to trace your dad's scar with her thumb, making your stomach churn with rage and the same disgust as before.

“That’s you. But I am going to kill you. Because it doesn’t matter if you have a code like me, or you’re a lawless piece of shit like you,” her voice quivers now. “There are just some things…everyone agrees are just fucking wrong.”

She sobs and looks over her shoulder. Not to look at you but at something else. When you follow her line of gaze you see her looking at a bag of golf clubs.

“Please,” you plead again and hold on tighter to your captor's arm. “Please!”

Abby keeps her word though. Your begging falls on deaf ears as she approaches that bag.

“Dad,” you cry and he finally meets your gaze with a softness he didn’t show before in front of Abby, but he shows it now as you hold his gaze.

“It’s okay,” he lets you know, but not by his words, by his look alone and that makes you sob.

“You know, it’s funny,” Abby interjects. “I have waited so long—”

“Oh, just shut the fuck up and do it already!” Your dad cuts off yet another speech, so Abby doesn’t go on, she falls silent and a few seconds later she comes back into view with a golf club in hand.

“You,” she spats. “Stupid…old man.”

You begin to heave and feel your heart clench as she gets closer to your dad with the club.

“You don’t get to rush this,” she sneers before she then swings the golf club down on your dad's wounded knee, causing him to scream out, and making you scream out as if you had gotten too, but that’s it, it felt like she hit you too. She keeps going. She keeps hitting his knee and with every hit and every scream your dad lets out, you yell out feeling your heart jump and break with every single hit.

“Stop!” You bellow with thick tears running down your face. “Please god just stop!”

But no. She keeps going as if with every hit she’s letting out an ounce of rage and fulfilling a sick dream.

“Dad!” You sob and pull. You squirm, throw your arms back, but it’s a useless endeavor. All you can do is fall on your stomach at the same time your dad falls as he can’t withstand the pain a moment longer.

“Please,” you plead again and again, but she only acts out worse. Instead of his knee, she starts hitting his face with the bloody end of that club.

“Please!”

“Don’t,” your dad coughs and reaches out for you. “Don't look…baby.”

He wiggles his fingers to try and desperately reach you, staining them with his own pool of blood.

You reach out too with the same desperation, hoping, wishing with every fiber of your body that your desperation will let you do the impossible and let you reach him.

“Don’t you dare,” Abby barks back at you as she looks over with her face stained with your dad's blood. “Or I’ll kill the girl next.”

You have no reason to doubt her, so to save Dina’s life you keep your eyes open and watch her bring the club down so hard it snaps in half.

“Stop,” you keep begging. “Please…please.”

Even if she said what she said. Even if she never listens, you keep pleading as she now uses her fists to hit him over and over again.

Your voice eventually gives out before she does. Or you think it does, you don’t know. Besides, the pressure on your neck as they prevent each of your attempts to break free, you can’t feel a thing. You’ve gone numb, so you don’t know if they’re holding you down anymore. You just know a writhing pain as your dad slowly slips away as his face gets pampered with blood and almost becomes unrecognizable.

It’s almost like you’re dying with him without having anything done to you. You just can't stand it. The heartbreak, the horror, and the pain. You also break and slip into the darkness like him.

All you can do is keep your hand out in desperate attempts to reach him. Other than that you’re useless. Completely and pathetically useless.

You want her to stop, but you think she’ll go on forever. She won’t stop. Her rage won’t stop coming. She just keeps hitting him again and again. She keeps making you suffer an immeasurable amount of pain, making sure with each swing, and each dying groan that this day will forever live on in your memory.

She makes sure that even if you manage to live and make it past your grieving period, you’ll never be able to actually feel a true moment's peace.

Then again how is it possible you’ll live past today? You won’t. You’ll die here right after him, at his side, and…it’s okay because it will relieve you of your own pain.

You are ready to die at his side.

There even comes a moment. An interruption in the gruesome sound of Abby’s fist hitting your dad's disfigured face that a gunshot goes off in the room, so you close your eyes and without struggle or finding a way to dodge the end, you close your eyes.

Yet the bullet doesn’t hit you at all, so with the energy you can muster you look over and see Ellie.

It’s Ellie!

She falls on the ground beside you but doesn’t linger there, she immediately flies up and swings her arm back, slicing Manny’s cheek with her switchblade.

“Ah! Fuck!” Manny exclaims, whilst like a shot of adrenaline after seeing her and seeing all of Abby’s friends charge toward her, you come back to life and immediately push yourself to your feet, locking eyes on Nora approaching Ellie and tackling her.

Nora is unable to hold her balance, so she stumbles forward because of your sudden body weight, and hits her nose against the edge of the chimney, making her yelp. “Damn it! Fuck!”

You then quickly slither your hands down to her holster to try and reach for her gun, but before you know it she shoves you back and since you cling onto her you both stumble back. Albeit she quickly follows up by swinging her elbow and hitting you right in the throat, causing you to let go of her, and causing Ellie to cry out your name. All while you begin to grab at your throat and gasp frantically to try and breathe.

However, as you’re focused on your throat closing and the sharp pain that stabs it, you don’t notice Ellie already on the floor disarmed. The next thing you know is an arm locks around your throat and makes it harder to try and capture a breath. It’s why you fall back to the ground on your stomach with ease because you keep gasping.

“Stupid fucking bitch!” You hear the angry shouts of someone before the pressure on your back and the arm around your neck slips off and instead, heavy footsteps charge at someone.

“No!” You manage to hear someone shout before Ellie’s scream hits your ears, making you want to react with every fiber of your being, but only now can you remember to breathe even if it hurts your throat to do so.

“Joel!” Ellie cries out. “Joel! Joel!”

You flip your head to look over at Ellie and try to reach her as you also try to call out to her, but as you part your lips nothing comes out, besides the pain you feel stabbing your throat, you can’t muster a single word. A knee just proceeds to press on your back again, leaving you immobile.

“Joel, get up,” Ellie demands. “Joel, get up. Joel, fucking get up!” She bellows desperately before she then begins to whisper as she starts to crumble with the knowledge of what awaits your dad. “Joel, get up. Get up.”

You flip your head again and when you see your dad again still laying there without moving, another immense wave of immeasurable pain slams into you.

“End it,” you hear Owen snap from on top of you.

“Joel, get up. Please,” Ellie keeps insisting. “Please, get up. Get up. Fucking, get up!” She fights hard and this time your dad tries, he slowly tries to pick his head off the floor, but alas, he still can’t move.

“Get up. Get up,” Ellie pleads and you try to reach for him again, but he’s still far, and then Abby blocks every attempt as she walks in between you and your dad to pick up one half of her broken club.

“No,” you try to plead, but you can’t muster a word. The force of the word strains your throat, but you can’t say it. You can’t speak, you can only sob and slam your hand against the floor.

“No,” Ellie cries, using her voice for you and herself. “Please no,” she adds as Abby turns away. “Please. Please don’t.” She begins to sob as Abby faces your dad's body and starts to crouch by his side again.

“Please—please don’t,” Ellie keeps crying out words you can’t even whisper anymore. “Please don’t do it! Please!”

You start scratching the floor to try and drag yourself forward to try and stop Abby, but the force on top of you presses harder, holding you still and only making you claw your nails deeper into the floor as you don’t stop trying. You keep desperately trying to move forward as Abby raises the half of her club.

“Please don’t!” Ellie keeps begging. “Don’t! Please, don’t! Don’t!”

Yet no matter how much Ellie begs, no matter how hard you try or how hard you sob, Abby impales your dad's throat.

Now after all that torture, after all that unimaginable pain, after 29 years of knowing him, seeing the same sky and breathing the same air when you were together and apart, your dad is taken from you, so as his life is stolen from him, and as Ellie screams out in pain, the air from your very lungs is stolen from you.

The light that once shone so bright has gone off, and life itself feels like it was ripped out of you too.

Your beating heart of course contradicts that feeling, but there’s truly nothing. You feel nothing. Isn’t that what death is? An endless abyss of darkness? Nothing?

If only fate could have granted you such mercy, but you’re left there motionless, staring at your dad's lifeless body without drawing in a breath until Ellie’s words travel in your ears, reminding you there’s still someone you need to keep your heart pumping for.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Ellie bellows angrily, so you finally drag your eyes up, knowing there’s only one person she could be directing those angry words to; Abby.

“You’re gonna die!” Ellie keeps shouting as Abby herself walks away without a second thought. She merely glances at you and then leaves.

“You’re all gonna fucking die!” Ellie adds and then suddenly gasps. When you look over you see her wheezing and Manny walking away.

You try to say her name, but again you can't speak, so you reach out for her desperately as everyone around you moves about, telling you that no one is holding you back anymore. You’re free to move, so without caring that everyone is leaving, you immediately face your dad again, catching Manny mumbling at your dad's body in English and Spanish. “Fucking pendejo.”

Yet you don’t care for the insult, you push yourself to your knees and crawl to your dad as fast as you can. When you reach his side you sit up on your knees and wheeze as you try to sound out a word, but nothing comes out, so you raise your hand and reach for his cheek, but don’t touch his bloody cheek yet. You let your hand hover and lean in closer to try and speak again.

However, once again nothing comes out. You can’t talk. You can only feel a sharp pain burn you and throb each time you try again and again, leaving you so frustrated that you sob and hit your thighs as if saying ‘dad,’ over and over was going to raise him from the dead.

You hoped that the sound of your voice would wake him. He would always answer or acknowledge you in some way when you called out to him, so you try to muster, ‘Dad,’ but you can’t.

You can’t and he doesn’t rise, so you finally bring your hand down and touch his cheek which is still warm because of the blood still in his veins, causing you to keep hoping. Hence, you bring your hand down to grab the broken club and pull it out so it’s not hurting him anymore. You then grab his shoulder with both hands and shake him gently as you keep trying to get him to react.

Alas, he remains lifeless, so you turn him on his back and shake his chest. When you get nothing, your chest tightens and your heart pounds harder as the truth creeps forward, but even so, you remain defiant and close your eyes to lay your head on his chest to try and seek the comfort of his beating heart just like you would do when you were a little girl, or that time he was hurt, and when you made up and watched a movie on your bed.

You lay your head on his chest hoping you’ll hear his heart, but…you hear and feel nothing. He’s gone.

Your dad is…gone.

You’re not going home together. He’s…dead.

You had acknowledged that fact before. You stopped breathing and felt like the world stopped for you then, but you denied the truth and hoped that your attempts to wake him would work, but you fooled yourself and now you can’t change reality. He’s dead…and now that you’re bombarded with the truth as you can’t hear his heart, you clutch onto his chest and keep yourself pressed against him as your world shatters and the abyss returns.

You wished to slip away with him now. You want to leave this world with him, but fate continues to laugh in your face by keeping your heart pumping, so you keep hurting deeply, and wishing for it to end.

You’re actually so stuck in your own head and in your own pain, that you forget about Ellie. You don’t acknowledge her until after she’s dragged herself to your dad's side and interlaces her fingers with his before she also lays her head on his chest.

That’s the only ounce of comfort you feel, seeing her right by his other side, but no matter how relieved either of you feel that you’re alive, you still crave for nothing more than the sweet mercy of death to stop hurting.

Once again though, it doesn’t come, so you remain still, feeling your dad's body lose its warmth, and hearing each other's sobs and sounds of pain.

That pained filled silence remains so until the door opens. Albeit expecting it to be Abby and her friends back to leave no trace behind, you don’t react. You keep your head on your dad's chest and keep your arms wrapped around him.

“Oh god,” you hear a familiar deep voice gasp before their footsteps approach you and then call you out before they call out Ellie clinging onto your dad’s the other side

Unlike you though, Ellie gives them a sign of life by whispering their name with disbelief and sorrow. “Jesse.”

You don’t acknowledge him so he crouches to grab your arm and try to check on you, but as he pulls, you quickly pull away to keep hugging your dad.

“At least let me know you’re okay,” he says softly, but you ignore him and instead just tilt your head to point your eyes at Dina.

“Dina,” he calls quietly and parts away to rush to her side, letting you nuzzle your face against your dad as if waiting for your end to come.

And as you’re waiting, there's a faint bark from a dog coming from outside, making Jesse break the silence. “Someone’s coming.”

With Ellie unable to move, Dina only now regaining consciousness, and you refusing to move, Jesse slowly approaches the big window to check who’s approaching.

When he sees that it’s not a threat he leaves the room.

After a few minutes, multiple footsteps approach the door, but the first to barge in immediately barks twice before she runs at you and starts sniffing. Once she makes sure you’re alive Hermes lays down behind you and lays her head on top of you, trying her best to offer her comfort without needing to be told.

Seconds later the rest of the party walks into the room and there’s a chilling stillness amongst them that lasts until one pair of footsteps slowly drags themselves toward you. When they reach the piled bodies there's a loud and rumbling thud before you hear weeping as everyone else gets busy.

“Someone cover the body, Jesse help Dina, I’ll help Ellie,” you recognize Maria’s voice before there’s another nearby.

“Sunny?” You hear your uncle Tommy call and his voice hits your system like an electric shock, giving you the energy to slowly rise up and meet face to face, offering him some sense of relief to see that you’re still alive, but he can’t muster anymore. Not after what he walked into.

However, even so, it’s enough to let him know that the light that guides him through life isn't taken from him. You're here before him, and you try to call out to him, but you can only manage to part your lips and start sobbing again as you’re slammed with another wave of withering pain.

“Oh baby girl,” your Uncle Tommy cries as tears run down his dirty-covered face.

Now without trying to strain your throat a moment longer, you drag yourself to him just a bit to be able to throw your arms around him and hold each other as if you don’t want either person to slip away like the man you both loved. You then break down and let life move around you, not daring or having the will to move away.

Not until a sweet voice speaks to the both of you. “Let’s go home,” Maria says.

Your Uncle breaks away first, letting Maria help you up and wrap her arm around you. “Come on, baby,” she whispers.

You let her walk you away, but you look back, seeing people from Jackson carrying your father's covered body to bring him along, but not on horse like a part of you expects. He’s dragged behind you when you head home, a grim reminder that he’s gone.

Even then you keep looking back like Ellie, hoping for things to change or making sure he isn’t left behind, and each time you’re only hurt all over again.

What’s even worse is that when you get him you see that part of the gate has been torn down and bodies upon bodies of dead infected and dead townspeople welcome you into your hellish town, making you fear the worst about your family.

Yet you can’t communicate your fear and you can’t say you refuse to be tended to, so you have to rip away, causing Maria and your Uncle Tommy to call out after you, but you ignore them and run with Hermes toward home with your heart ready to give out if you come across the worst.

Luckily though, before you can make it far, there in between a street of disaster is Apollo. Hermes reaches him first with joy and he returns her joy before he looks over at you.

At first, his dirty face contorts with relief and joy, then he expresses concern when he at last notices the blood covering your face and body and the floods of tears that run down your cheeks as you slowly break completely.

It’s like you were holding out and now that you see the man you love you can’t hold yourself up anymore. Especially not when you run to him because when you meet halfway, you crumble, causing him to go down with you.

“Teddy is okay,” he offers you that reassurance. “We’re okay.”

You can’t talk, you can only cry your pain and hold onto him there in the middle of the corpse and blood-littered street lit by hellish firelight.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- 😁 sorry!

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @maplecohen @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @hardbeingcasual @rana030 @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @sunsumonner @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl @g4ns3y @izzzzy-the-amazing @aphr0d1teh @lovelyygirl8 @ivy-taylorsversion @mmkkzz @avitute @fuckmebobboys

[ramonag-if]

Crown of Exile – Limited Access up to Chapter Ten

With Christmas around the corner and progress steadily approaching the final two chapters of Crown of Exile, I've decided to make the current Patreon demo available to the public for a limited time.

Time start: 21 Dec 2024, 8AM GMT +2

Time end: 22 Dec 2024, 10AM GMT +2

Link to game.

How it works:

During this time, the demo up until Chapter Ten will be made available on the public game page on itch.io. It will be available only to be played in the browser – no downloads will be available, sorry!

You will be unable to use saves from the current public demo so you'll need to restart the game from the beginning. The demo will remain until the end time on 22 December 2024, afterwards, it will be removed and the old demo up to Chapter Eight will return to the game page.

Why are you doing this?

It's been a hot minute since the last public update and a lot has been written since then. Everyone who has followed me on Tumblr and itch.io have been incredibly supportive and without you, a lot of the early chapters wouldn't have made it online. This is a thank-you gift for Christmas and a way for me to gather feedback from the broader public outside my Patreon.

Please keep in mind that I've been working on new chapters, not edits, so nothing new has been added to the earlier chapters. This demo access will allow you to play Chapters Nine and Ten.

None of this would be possible without my incredibly generous Patrons who voted overwhelmingly in favour of allowing public access to the demo for a limited time.

Reblogs will be appreciated! 💖

[manga-meow]

[everyakipanel]

Chapter 10: Kon

[marvelstoriesepic]

Like a Phoenix (10)

Pairing: Mercenary!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Series Summary: An attack on your palace thrusts your only hope for survival into the hands of a mercenary who is forced to protect you, all due to a vow he made many years before. Though, those are circumstances neither of you have chosen.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: mentions of knives, dead parents, death; talk of arranged marriage; suggestive themes; heated make-out session; self-doubt; small mention of kidnapping

Author’s Note: Omg we are nearing the end here. Only the epilogue is left. Thank you for sticking with me! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Your wrist tingles from where Bucky’s fingers had pressed too gently against your skin.

He has soothed the bruise left by Lord Ward, but there is nothing to be done for the ache settling in your chest.

It’s been silent for a few moments between you two. It’s thick and charged with some kind of electric buzz you can’t quite make sense of. But it makes you feel shy all of a sudden.

“You should probably go,” you state weakly, barely able to force the words past your lips. “They will be here soon.”

Bucky lets out a slow, unreadable breath. He gets to his feet, shaking the water droplets off his hand. The one he used to dip your hurt wrist into the cool water of the fountain. “Then we’ll have to be quick.”

Your head snaps up and you quickly get to your feet yourself. Something frigid curls down your spine. “What?”

His expression is blank, but his jaw is set.

“We leave. Now.”

His words rattle through your ribs, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“We? Bucky I- We can’t-”

“Can’t what?” he cuts in, almost flatly, but with a determination underlying it. “You think I’ll walk away and leave you to that prick? You think I’ll let them lock you in here and make you play queen to some bastard who doesn’t deserve you?”

Your throat is thick and you swallow hard. “I don’t have a choice.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You do have a choice, princess.” He says the title like it’s a curse, something wretched and wrong, something that shouldn’t be wrapped around your throat like a noose. “And you damn well know it.”

You narrow your eyes. “I never had a choice in anything.” Your voice is rough.

“You do now.”

A sharp breath pushes out of your lungs. “How?”

Bucky leans forward, eyes forcing yours to stay locked together, looking at you with the precision of a man who is hoping for something again after a long time.

“You come with me.”

Something wild careens through your ribs, something intoxicating and terrifying.

He says it so easily. As if you could just go ahead and say yes, grab his hand, and run off into the woods again.

And god help you, you want to say yes.

But it is not that simple.

You shake your head slowly, fingers digging into the fabric of your gown. “This is not about me.”

Bucky’s jaw works hard. His lip twitches “Like hell, it ain’t.”

“I just- I want to help those people. The townspeople. I want to help them.” Your voice is breaking, twisting into something unfamiliar. “They deserve it. They-”

“-don’t need another noble locked in a fuckin’ tower, paraded through halls built on their backs,” Bucky snaps. His tone is not rising but it is low, carrying an edge.

Your breath hitches.

Bucky presses on, voice not unkind, but still strong with sharpness. Coiled with something he’s barely keeping in check. “You think you’ll be helping them in here?” He throws a deliberate glance at the castle. “Sitting and rotting on a throne built by a man you don’t love?” He scoffs. “C'mon, darlin’, you’re smarter than that.”

Your pulse roars in your ears. “And what do you think I should do then? Run away? Disappear?” You bite out the words, frustration bleeding through your fear. “How does that help them?”

Bucky exhales through his nose, the breath fanning over your face. He shakes his head, running a hand along his stubble, but keeping his eyes on you.

“I don’t have all the answers, princess,” he says then, softening his tone but not the intensity of his voice. “But I know this - staying here, being his wife, playing their game - it won’t fix a damn thing. And I know that if you let them take you, you’ll never get out.”

The churning in your stomach deepens, turning around in slow circles only to leave you stranded and feeling helpless. Again. You hate it. You hate feeling helpless.

Bucky is considering you, looking at you so closely, you can’t hold his gaze anymore.

“You really wanna stay here and marry that bastard?” Bucky’s voice is rough, quiet, edged with something that might be disbelief. Might be anger. Might be hurt. Might be disappointment. Might be something else entirely - something sharper, something that writhers in your gut and mind.

Your breath comes out shuddering. “It’s not about wanting to.”

Bucky exhales a low breath. He swallows. “That’s not an answer, princess.”

You look away. Sweeping your eyes over the many flowers around you. Perhaps you’ll catch a glimpse of forget-me-nots to pretend they are Bucky’s eyes so you would not have to look at the actual ones.

His gaze does not sway from you. He watches you carefully, too carefully, eyes tracing your face like he is searching for every smallest twitch of your features.

There is no expectation in his eyes, no demand. But there is something else there. Something sensitive. Hopeful. Unsure. But still so unwavering. A belief that you can make this choice. That you should.

But it is crushing you.

Because no, you do not want to marry that man.

But what if it is the right thing to do? What if, in time, you could make a difference from within the castle? You could be queen - a good queen. You could pass laws that bring food to the villages, mend the wounds your father never cared to see. If you stay and play their game and become the ruler like how you should, then maybe you could make their lives better.

But would they let you?

Or would they mold you into something unrecognizable before you ever had the chance?

They would see to that. Lord Ward would see to that.

Your husband.

The thought might as well break you.

You see it too clearly now - the life you would have under this thumb. His queen. His prize. You’d be draped in silks, painted and polished to be something pleasing, something obedient. Your words, your thoughts, your very breath would be dictated by men who see you as nothing more than a means to an end.

It is basically the life you’ve always lived, only worse.

Would you be locked away in golden rooms, paraded in pearls and brocade, expected to smile while they rule through you?

Would they let you make a difference?

Or would they hollow you out until you are nothing but a puppet? A shell?

Bucky is still watching you.

“Think you’ll be happy with that guy?” he asks, quieter than before. There is something pained in the way he says it.

It’s an absurd question. Happiness. What does that have to do with any of this? You made yourself believe that you were happy once. Even before the forest, before the lies, before knowing of your father’s sins that made your ribs crack open and bleed. Before Bucky.

You always forced yourself to believe you had been happy.

But even if you weren’t, there still is no point in that question.

“It does not matter if I am happy.” Your voice sounds hollow. Rehearsed even.

Bucky’s expression doesn’t shift, as if he expected you to say that. But something about him goes still. Too still.

“The fuck it doesn’t.” His voice is low. Convicted. Almost hard.

Your eyes sting.

“Look at me.”

You do.

“You wanna stay?”

You don’t.

“It’s not that simple,” you whisper.

“It is. It can be,” Bucky counters, stepping even closer, and suddenly he is too close, heat rolling off him and slapping you in the face. He is a gravitational pull you could never hope to resist. His forefinger lifts your chin, to gradually tilt your face up to his. “Look, I'm not tellin’ you to come with me, alright? I'm askin’ you. That’s all I can do. I’ll get you the fuck outta here if that’s what you wanna do. But I kinda need you to want that. Not tryna make any decisions for you. You get the last word here, darlin’. You choose. And we’ll figure out the rest.”

Your ribs are closing in on themselves, locking the air away. Each inhale you try for is a struggle, a climb up a steep, endless slope. Your lungs are reaching, grasping, but never quite filling up the way they should.

A stinging heat rises in your limbs. It’s a weightless feeling, but so without rest. You feel like your body is hovering just outside itself, adrift in shallow air.

Bucky asked you to come with him.

Your father never gave you choices. The crown never gave you choices. The kingdom never gave you choices. Nobody did.

But Bucky does.

Could you do it? Could you walk away from everything expected of you? From all the years of conditioning, the training, the expectations? Could you defy your old self like that?

Could you leave it all behind - forsake the crown, the court, the man you are meant to marry? And go with him?

You told him it doesn’t matter if you are happy.

But looking at Bucky now, feeling the heat of him, the sincerity of him, the way he waits patiently for a choice that is completely your own, even though it seems to edge him.

And it makes you wonder, why not?

Why shouldn’t it matter?

You have spent your entire life serving something larger than yourself. A kingdom. A crown. An idea of duty that never asked if you were willing. That never cared what it cost you.

You’ve never been selfish. Not once.

And the thought of saying goodbye to Bucky a second time-

You can’t.

The first time was barely manageable. And it wasn’t even for a day. You left him standing there, walking through that gate, feeling his eyes on you. It had felt like watching your own heart step away from you, leaving nothing but a cavernous, painful emptiness behind.

You don’t think you could survive a second time.

Your father sent you here to be traded. A bargain to be struck.

But Bucky really looks at you. He looks and he sees you.

Not just a princess. Not just a duty-bound daughter of a king.

A person. A woman.

And when you think of the life you would have at Lord Ward’s side - cold, controlled, strangulating - you know.

You know.

You can’t be certain of what is going to happen no matter what you choose to do.

Maybe you could help the kingdom as his wife, but at what cost? Your voice? The freedom you only briefly glimpsed? Your soul?

Bucky is right. You can’t fix a broken kingdom from inside a cage. You can’t lead if you’re shackled to a man who wants to own you.

But if you leave, if you go with Bucky, you might find another way. A better way.

One that doesn’t require you to give up every piece of yourself in the process.

It means stepping into the dark with no safety net. No crown. No title to protect you. But considering it all, you never felt more protected when walking by Bucky’s side.

It would be just your own mind. Your own choices.

And Bucky.

Bucky, who has never been a guarantee. Bucky, who has always been on the run, just like you are now. Bucky, who might leave again someday.

But right now, he is here. And he is offering you a chance.

You meet his unrelenting gaze again. Just studying, watching each other.

And then his eyes light up. Ever so slightly. But it still manages to blind you.

Because he sees the nod you are about to give him in your eyes before your head can go through with the motion.

He doesn’t look triumphant. Not smug. Only grateful. Relieved. Almost exhilarated.

And he doesn’t hesitate.

His fingers brush against yours delicately, before taking hold of your hand completely. Your fingers tremble slightly in his hold and he squeezes gently, reassuringly, but keeps his eyes on yours to watch your reaction. You try not to let him know how much his touch affects you. But your pulse thunders against his skin.

And then he moves, tugging you along.

And just like that, you leave the castle behind.

****

Your hand stays in Bucky’s. His grip is firm but not crushing. His pace is quicker than before, less careful, less measured.

You have no time for slow steps now. Because you are no longer just traveling. You are running.

Shadows are spilling over the narrow path ahead as the trees rise above.

You should be afraid.

And you are, in a way.

But the fear is layered, jumbled in something deeper - something more complex than simple terror. It is not the fear of leaving. Not the fear of the darkening woods enclosing around you again.

It is the fear of what comes next.

You cannot organize the thought properly. Your mind tries to tuck it into a neat little space, into a box labeled decisions you have made, but the corners are too notched. The lid won’t close. You have done something irreversible. You have stepped across a line that you cannot redraw.

But there is still excitement coursing through your veins.

The thrill of it burns hot in your chest, unfurling like flames reaching for parched leaves.

It is not just the rush of escaping an arranged marriage, or a life you would have spent as a marionette with strings attached for your so-called husband-to-be to move you around with.

It is not just about the fact that you slipped from the grip of a fate that was never truly yours.

It is the realization that you have finally done it.

You have finally chosen yourself.

You have chosen to do what you always wanted.

For years, you have watched the forests from your balcony, their darkened outlines distant, unknowable, untouchable. You imagined them wild and free, the kind of place where the rules of the court could not reach, where names and titles had no bearing whatsoever. And you dreamed so big about running into them, of escaping a life that didn’t feel meant for you.

And now, here you are.

Running.

Fleeing.

The very thing you have wanted since childhood is finally happening.

And it is happening because you wanted it. Because you chose it. Not because you were thrust into it.

You are doing it for yourself.

No more palace halls, no walking in pre-measured and composed steps across marble floors for show, no more of that expected display of poise and beauty.

You are running towards something unknown. Something yours.

And it might not just be freedom. It is uncertainty. It is fright and exhilaration and the painful, intoxicating realization that you do not know what happens next.

You don’t know where you are going. You don’t know what waits beyond the next stretch of trees, or the next town, or the next day.

And that is - as strange as a thought it might be - so beautiful.

It’s the most exhilarating feeling you ever had.

Because this is what you always longed for. This is what life was meant to be. Full of surprises. Not knowing what comes next. Adventures. Things being uncontrollable.

The air starts to burn in your lungs, but you suck it in and relish it. Everything is sharp - the scent of bark, the sound of snapping twigs under your pounding footsteps, the slashes of light sweeping between the branches above.

You feel alive. Not the careful kind of way, the kind that means staying inside the lines drawn for you, the kind that means breathing only as much as you are allowed to.

You feel truly, wholly, terrifyingly alive.

Bucky pulls you along, always knowing exactly where to step, where to lead. There is a sort of urgency in his steps, the need to put as much distance between you and that castle - Lord Ward - as fast as possible.

But you catch the glint of something in his face when he takes a glance back at you to check how you are keeping up. Something like satisfaction. Something light.

Maybe Bucky doesn’t know where to take you now either. Maybe he doesn’t know what waits beyond the next stretch of trees, or the next town, or the next day.

But the knot of emotion that spins in your gut never hardens into panic.

Because there is adrenaline.

It flows through you, loosening the tangled thoughts before they can squeeze the air from your lungs completely.

And Bucky is still holding your hand.

He slows then, his boots crunching against the forest floor. And he stops entirely. Right in front of the thick trunk of a tree.

It catches your attention. You believe it to be a sycamore. The shape of its leaves, the curve and texture of its bark, the way its roots snake over the ground.

Your eyes follow the trunk up into the branches. You have seen it in books. You have read about trees like this, pored over their descriptions in dusty tomes stacked high in the royal library.

You have knowledge of them - so much knowledge. Their wood, their uses, the way their bark was once ground into remedies for fevers and infections, the way their roots pull deep into the earth, older than the stone walls of that castle.

But you have never really seen one for so long.

Not growing tall before you, unbound by pages and ink.

You have been walking through forests for weeks, been surrounded by trees, running, traveling, living in the very world that was once kept away from you.

But have you ever really taken a second to look at one? To observe it? To study it?

You do now. And you relish it.

Every tree. Every warped root. Every low-hanging branch and every bramble that has snagged at your skirts.

You begin to learn to cherish it. To drink it all in. To see it for the first time even though it isn’t and never take those things for granted again.

Bucky turns to look in the direction where the castle is standing. But it’s not in your eyesight anymore. Its looming towers are smothered by thick canopies and winding trunks.

He exhales, long and slow, shoulders rolling back. And then his eyes sweep to you.

Studying. Analyzing. Making sure you are holding up.

You feel his stare on your skin, but you don’t meet it.

You are too busy averting your gaze from the tree to the path behind you. The one you will not walk back.

The certainty of that fills your chest with something delightfully bright. It starts deep, looping in your ribs, growing warm and soft, spreading across your body like the first rays of sunshine in the morning.

And before you can catch it, before you can smoother it into something quiet and contained - you are smiling.

Panting, breath hitching from the fast pace, lungs burning with exertion - but smiling.

It feels strange on your lips. Unprompted.

Not the practiced smile of a princess performing her role. Not the polite, close-lipped curve you have been taught to wear in court.

This smile is real.

Bucky watches you, something wary in the way his gaze sharpens, like he doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

His fingers brush your arm. “You okay, princess?” His voice has a gravelly quality, laced with subtle concern.

You clutch at your side, chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths, your body still trying to catch up to the choice you have made - but God, yes.

“Yes,” you gasp out, chest heaving, and something bubbles up inside you, something so unexpected, it startles you. A laugh. It is light and breathless, spilling past your lips just like that.

Bucky eyes you like you are something unfamiliar. Like you are something he’s never quite seen before.

Not in all the weeks he’s spent with you, sleeping beneath the same stars, traveling the same roads, moving through the same dark woods, and with only each other’s presence to fill the spaces between heartbeats.

It’s the smile. Your smile.

The way it breaks across your face so out of control. The way your shoulders loosen. The way your eyes glint - not with fear or helplessness, but with something else entirely.

Something like freedom.

He wasn’t expecting it. That much is clear.

His brows twitch like his body is catching up on what he’s seeing, instincts warring between amusement, relief, and just that little bit of caution he has never quite learned to shake off. His lips part slightly, but no words come, no sharp-witted remark or gruff warning. Just a pause. A heartbeat’s worth of simple observation.

Then, he exhales.

It’s quiet, him trying to make it subtle. But the breath visibly enters deep through him, dragging off some tension from his shoulders, softening something rigid in the line of his stance.

He chuckles. It’s so low and so rough that it seems to have been held in his throat forever before it came out.

“What?” His voice holds something unreadable. A touch of humor. Warmth. A hint of curiosity.

His head tilts, eyes still flickering across your face still tracing the way your lips are curved, the way your constricted chest is rising and falling from the effort of running - of choosing to run.

“You laughin' princess?” He drawls, and there is something unreadable in his gaze now. Not quite teasing. Not mocking. More like he is testing something. Prodding at it.

You shake your head, still breathless. Still grinning. Unrepentant. “No.”

Something is soaring through your chest. You can’t control it. It is uncontainable. And it makes your legs burn to push forward anyway. It makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.

It makes you want to sing. To shout. To throw your arms out and feel the wind bite at your skin and know, for the first time in your life, that you are truly free.

He huffs amused, smirking. “You’re smilin’,” he points out.

“Am I?” The smile is still in your voice.

Bucky snorts, shaking his head, but there is something almost fond in the way he does it. A breath of laughter slips through his lips.

His eyes then immediately flicker back to the woods, as though he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Back to the reality of your situation, of what comes next. His fingers flex at his side.

“We should keep movin’,” he says, but there is a rasp in his voice. Something contained.

And just before he turns wholly, before he takes hold of your hand again to tug you along gently, his gaze catches yours another time.

He is smiling.

****

Bucky made you walk longer into the night this time.

It’s important to put as much distance between yourselves and the castle before dawn.

You didn’t ask how far he meant to go.

Didn’t ask if he thought they were already after you.

“They’re gonna think you were taken,” he had told you. So flatly. So unbothered.

But it made your blood turn to ice. And you had stumbled over a root. His hand shot out to steady you.

Well, but why wouldn’t they think that?

It made sense. Lord Ward had seen you with Bucky, had held your arm in a vice grip, had looked upon you as though you were his to command. His to marry. Now, with you missing, with Bucky’s name already tainted by whatever past he had with your father, whatever history existed between them - who would believe otherwise?

You imagined Lord Ward pacing in front of the king, spinning lies like fine silk. So he wouldn’t be standing in the picture of a fool who left his betrothed alone.

You felt your knees threaten to buckle, but Bucky caught your arm before you could stumble fully into your thoughts. He had stopped, standing in front of you, his head tilted, watching you carefully.

“Breathe, darlin’,” he had ordered. He didn’t coddle, didn’t tell you that everything would be fine. But he squeezed your arm gently and waited for you to compose yourself.

And after you calmed down your breathing, he was walking again with a simple “we’ll deal with it.”

Now, It is nearly dawn and Bucky finally decides to stop. But you just know that he is not going to get any sleep.

You know it before he sweeps your surroundings. Scanning. Watching. You know before he sits, back against the rough bark of a black oak, one knee bent, hand curled over it. Knife in his grip.

It is like you came to know the lines of determination set in his shoulders.

You want to sit down yourself. Lay down. But you hesitate.

It has nothing to do with the dirt, the inevitability of mud streaking across the fine fabric of your skirts. That’s the last thing on your mind. You couldn’t care less about the ruined luxury of your gown.

Actually, it is quite ironic that you started this the same way as before - fleeing into the woods in silks and embroidery, escaping something tragic.

But this one hurts.

Not just the meaning behind it. The physicality of it.

You attempt to sit down, but the boning sharpens its hold, the laces biting, tightening, restricting. A band of steel and lace and force that does not yield.

You exhale through your nose, biting down in the discomfort. You’re used to it. It’s nothing new. The breathlessness, the burn, the way it forces you into stillness and grace. You have worn worse. You have endured worse.

And you manage to compose yourself, except for the barely-there wince.

But of course-

“What was that?”

Bucky's head is turned towards you. His sharp eyes catch everything. The flicker of strain in your jaw, the slight flaring of your nostrils, the way your fingers twitch against your lap, the subtle way you brace yourself against the pressure of the corset.

His brows are drawn together tightly.

“What was what?” You feign innocence, but his stare is already pinned on you, drilling past whatever poor attempt at pretense you think you can manage.

His eyes narrow disapprovingly. His mouth pulls tight. He doesn’t move at first, just watching you.

“You made a face.” His voice is gruff.

You tilt your chin as if you could somehow dismiss the look of scrutiny now cutting through you. “I did no such thing.”

The moon is a thin sliver above, half-hidden behind clouds, barely enough to light anything in front of you, so how in the hell did he even see that? He must have been already looking at you.

Bucky leans forward slightly, exhaling profoundly before he really lets his gaze drag over you with even more intent.

You can feel the assessment in it. The way he pieces things together. He spent too much time learning to read people, to anticipate weakness.

Because it does not take long for his eyes to catch on the bodice. The tight lacing. The pristine white of the gown, too fine, too rigid, too much a thing not meant for this life - your life.

His expression darkens.

His jaw ticks.

And before you know it, he is up.

One second, Bucky is seated, with hard eyes and brooding in the dim glow. The next he’s on his feet, stalking over to you with an intent so firm it makes your breath catch.

Your voice hides somewhere deep in your throat.

You instinctively shrink back - not out of fear, but out of suspicion - and press your palms against the earth.

Bucky is lowering himself onto the ground behind you, his warmth now suddenly at your back, his presence now a barrier between you and the night.

You stiffen.

“What are you-” you start, unsure.

His voice is close to your ear. His tone is gruff. “You want this thing off?”

But his hands are already at the laces before you can even begin to form a reply. Tugging. Loosening. Deftly undoing the knots. There is a strength in the way he does it. As if the very sight of you caged in this gown offends him.

The corset clamps down on your middle, but as soon as he pulls at the first few loops, loosening the strangling fabric, you feel a rush of air finally filling your lungs. The relief is instant. Involuntary. You suck in a deep breath, ribs extending, your chest rising.

Bucky doesn’t miss it.

“There we go,” he coos. His voice is a low rasp at your ear. Encouraging you to take in more deep breaths.

Your own voice comes clambering up your throat again, but you are still shocked by his swiftness.

“Bucky, you cannot just-”

“You’re breathin’ easier, ain’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you might notice I can-”

His fingers undo another loop. He is not rough. Not careless. Just confident. Certain that this thing needs to go off.

Your hands fly up to hold the slackening fabric together at the front, even as your shoulders sag from the newfound freedom.

You swallow harshly, pressing your lips together.

He tugs another lace free.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric at the front, heart hammering against the boning.

Another lace undone.

Another breath released.

His hands move slower now since you are able to breathe steadier again.

He leans in slightly. You feel the shift of his weight behind you, the way his hands brush your back as he works. He is warm. Warmer than he should be in this night air.

His breath is on your neck. It moves to your ear. Plump lips are almost touching you.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” There is amusement in his tone. But it’s a low rumble, dipped into something rough.

You inhale sharply.

“‘Cause I can.” His words roll out huskily. He is still so close. He doesn’t move away.

He tugs another lace free, but he moves so achingly slow now. You inhale deeper than you have all day, oxygen rushing in so fast it almost makes you dizzy. Or that’s just Bucky.

Your hands are still clasped at your chest. And you can only think of saying the one thing that never really worked when you needed to distract yourself from your current situation, but you still always mentioned anyway.

“I still don’t like you interrupting me.”

Bucky huffs a laugh. It’s a knowing sound and it delicately drags over your skin in caresses. You shiver. Bucky feels it.

You can feel his sly smirk at your ear. Your head stays locked in place.

His voice is a slow drag of heat. And it pierces your core. “You wanna tell me what’s on that pretty mind’a yours, then? Won’t be interruptin’ ya, princess. Cross my heart. Can tell me anything.”

“I don’t have anything to tell you. I just don’t like it.”

“That right?” He’s smirking so wide.

You twist slightly at the way his voice slips through the air. Looking at him over your shoulder, his face definitely is way too close. His eyes gleam with something, something that makes your whole body tingle.

“Yes. I did not miss it!” But it sounds weaker. Too defensive.

“C’mon, princess,” he drones out, a smirk on his lips. His eyebrow lifts almost smugly. But there is more to it. His eyes shine with a fierce clarity. “You missed it.”

“I did not.” It still sounds small in your eyes.

His smirk deepens. “Missed me, then.”

The air seems to grow tense under his stare and you break away from it, turning back around.

Heat latches onto the back of your spine, crawling upwards deliberately.

You feel his fingers resting against the now unsecured laces at your spine, idle, as if waiting for your response.

He is so close. So intense. But still somehow not close enough.

You basically feel everything about him behind you. The heat of his body. The way his breath shifts the air between you, rustling the stray wisps of your hair, rough but deep. The way his fingers stay at your back, poised against the loose laces of your gown.

Your heart fights against the cage of your ribs, pounding with a force that you are sure he can feel.

You don’t know what to say.

Well, that is not quite right. You do know what to say. But you don’t know how to shape it into words, how to breathe them out into the night without choking on them.

But why should you hold back?

You have him back, after all. He is here again. You are with him.

After all the distance and separation and fear, after thinking you would never see him again, never hear that gruff voice again, never feel his presence beside you again - he is here.

You never believed that to happen again.

And there is no universe, no force of fate, no damn destiny that could convince you that that isn’t exactly what you wanted.

So hell, yes you missed him.

You missed him in ways you cannot even comprehend, in ways that have scratched at your walls deep inside, stealing your sleep and making a ghost of you in your supposed new home. It branded your mind, body, and soul, almost scorching every nerve with thoughts of him, his absence something you felt rather than simply noticed. You did not just miss him, you ached for him.

Even when they spoke of your marriage to Lord Ward, even when your fate was sealed with words behind closed doors, you could not think of anything but Bucky. Because you did not want Lord Ward. Not for a second. You do not want a loveless future wrapped in velvet chains.

You want him.

He was the most prominent thing on your mind in the time you were apart.

And he deserves to know it.

Your knuckles turn white. You wet your lips, chest rising beneath the pressure of your next words.

“I did miss you.”

You feel the moment the words reach Bucky because he freezes.

A stillness takes hold of him, so suddenly, so completely. It’s the kind that comes with shock - something having cut cleanly through his composure. Like your words caught him utterly off guard. Like they hit him.

You barely dare to breathe. The corset no longer constricts your middle, but your breaths still grow shallow once more.

He wasn’t expecting you to admit that.

You can feel the disbelieving motion which drifts into the shape of his body, the way his fingers flex minutely at the laces. His muscles lock up and his breath halts. Maybe he tries to ground himself, trying to determine whether or not he imagined it. Whether or not he is hearing things he shouldn’t.

He goes so still as if he had only been joking, believing that you couldn’t have possibly missed him in the first place. As if he thought this was just a game, just banter, just another exchange where you would dodge and deflect and roll your eyes at him.

And the thought of that - of him thinking himself so forgettable, so undeserving of longing - has your stomach slump to the ground.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch the barest glimpse of him from the corner of your eye. He’s staring down at you, gaze unreadable, lips pressed into something that is not quite a frown, but not quite neutrality either.

Something dangerous lurks in the air beneath you.

And you don’t care anymore.

You turn fully, meeting his gaze head-on. And whatever he sees in your expression makes something flutter in his own - something dark, something irrepressible, something hopeful.

He exhales. It’s almost cautious. Long. Steadying himself.

When he speaks, his voice is different.

“Say it again.”

Your pulse jumps.

You swear you have never seen Bucky Barnes look like this before. This intense.

There is something so raw in the way he gazes at you, so stripped down, something vulnerable in a way he probably doesn’t even realize. His eyes are stormy and magnetic and full of something.

Your swallow. You feel the muscles in your throat constrict.

“I missed you.” It’s barely above a whisper as you repeat the words.

His lips part slightly. He is still staring at you. So close. Too close. Is he getting closer?

You are turned to him, but his hand is still at your back, fingers shifting just a bit to barely graze you. It’s a tickling touch. But the heat of it, the intent behind it, makes your skin sparkle with sensation. You shiver. He feels it. He sees it.

He shakes his head slightly, exhaling again. “You really mean it, huh?”

You hold his gaze. “I would not have said it otherwise.”

His mouth twitches and his throat vibrates with a harsh swallow.

You inhale.

You exhale.

Again.

You watch him do the same.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Again.

He is moving closer.

Definitely moving closer.

You feel the deliberate press of space folding between you. It’s not rushed. Bucky takes his time.

His hand lifts toward your face, the backs of his knuckles ghosting over your cheek with an intense slowness. A shiver of a touch, reverent and so delicate.

He trails along the curve of your face, down to your jaw, before his palm settles fully against your cheek, warm and firm. His thumb traces a slow, mind-numbing line along your skin.

So slowly.

Agonizingly slowly.

You do not move. You do not breathe.

Your pulse hammers beneath your skin as he tilts his head, his gaze flicking down. Down to your lips. Watching them.

You watch his in return.

Full. Plump. Red.

Poppies.

He pulls you to him and the world disappears.

The first press of his lips is not what you expect. You thought he’d be rough. Like the man who fights with clenched fists and gritted teeth, whose hands are more accustomed to wielding a weapon than offering softness.

But Bucky Barnes kisses like something stolen. Like he needs to be careful with what he is holding. Like you mean more to him than any weapon he’s ever had in his hands.

His kiss is soft where he is rough.

Warm where he is cold.

His lips are gradual in their movement against yours, coaxing rather than taking, guiding rather than demanding.

He tastes like salt. Smoke. Something that lingers. And something that is only Bucky. Like steel and storm winds. Like danger and safety all at once.

And he doesn’t stop kissing you. He rather shifts, and his touch gets urgent, fierce. But never rough. His fingers thread through your hair, his other hand curling around your waist, and his lips part against yours, his tongue sliding past them, sweeping into your mouth and exploring it so boldly, coaxing yours to meet him.

A soft, surprised sound escapes you.

Bucky groans into your mouth. It’s deep and guttural and it sends a hot shiver down your spine.

And he moves again, not breaking the kiss, never breaking the kiss, when his hand slides to your back, lowering you with him until your spine meets the ground and he hovers over you. Not crushing you, never crushing you, but solid and there.

His lips don’t stop moving, don’t stop claiming, don’t stop tasting.

A wall of warmth. A shield. Something that steadies you.

His fingers skim along your side, trailing fire over your ribs as he leans deeper into you, fitting himself between your legs like he belongs there. And maybe he does.

You grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, your body answering before your mind can catch up.

You can’t put into words what he is doing to you but you are sure to show him.

And Bucky shows you too. He is kissing you like he has been starving for it. Like he is drowning in it.

And you let him.

He holds you close to him as if he is afraid you might disappear again.

He is kissing you as if he is trying to make up for every second you were apart.

Like he won’t let it happen again.

The heat of him is overwhelming, drowning out the cold of the earth at your back.

Your fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as he goes in stronger, as his tongue sweeps over yours, leaving you dizzy and electrified. His thumb brushes your cheek, soothing even as he steals your breath.

“Say it again,” he roughly pants against your lips.

You breathe against his mouth, struggling to find coherence.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

The rumbled groan that comes out of him is basically a growl. It is something primal. Something torn from the depths of him. It vibrates against your lips, shakes through his body, and you feel it.

The hunger in the way he pulls you closer, one arm locked tight around your waist, locked beneath your body and the earth. The other cradles the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair with a carefulness that does not match the desperation in his hold. He tilts your head enough, just right, to deepen the kiss, to drink you in, to take more.

And you let him.

Because the contrast of him is addictive.

The softness of his lips. The rough scratch of his stubble. The steel in his body, pressing into you, against you, around you. The warmth of his breath, mingling with yours, melting into you as if he is trying to fuse himself to you.

It is too much but not enough.

The heat inside you grows stronger. It sparks in your belly. Then it floods your limbs, blooming in your chest, thrumming under your skin. Your pulse is erratic, pounding in places you never quite noticed before.

It pools low. Deep.

And instinctively, you move.

Your legs shift, your thighs closing around his, your knees pressing into his hips, pulling him closer to you even though he already is upon you. There is fabric between you, but god, you feel him.

For the first time, you really feel him.

Not just the presence of him, the idea of him. Him. His height. His weight. The hard muscles beneath his clothes, the shape of his body against yours. The way he fits between your legs.

And he shudders.

His breath stutters, catching against your lips. His fingers flex, tighten. His body tenses.

And he groans.

It’s a sound you feel down to your bones, something that rips through you and sends a fresh rush of heat into your bloodstream.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice wrecked, pulling away from your lips to drop his forehead to yours. His eyes are closed. His breath is uneven, his control slipping.

You can’t breathe.

You don’t want to breathe.

Because he is opening his eyes and looking at you like he is a second away from ruining you and you might as well just want him to.

You crave him.

His lips, his taste, his touch, his hands, his everything. The feeling is molten, unshakable, and implanted somewhere deep in your belly, running through your veins, buzzing under your skin.

Maybe it is the adrenaline from running through the woods, from leaving behind the life you have always known. Maybe it is the way he is here, hovering over you, pressing you into the earth, his scent all around you, the taste of him still on your tongue.

Or maybe it’s been brewing inside of you all along.

So you reach for him again.

You tilt your head up, your fingers fisting a buckle of his armor, pulling him down to you. He goes willingly, eagerly, with a hunger that ignites the very air around you. His mouth crashes onto yours like a storm meeting the sea. His lips are hot and urgent, taking and giving all at once.

You arch into him, your body moving on instinct, drawn to him. You shift slightly, rolling your hips up - not much, not enough - but it sends a shockwave through your system, a slow, burning ache that makes you grip him tighter.

Bucky stiffens.

Immediately, his body coils, tension increases. His hand tightens at your waist, his grip suddenly rigid, bordering on restraint. And then, he pulls away.

You chase after his lips, but he stops you with the hand on your cheek, keeping you still, keeping himself from diving back in.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw is tight, his breath is broken. And that makes you pause. Because he didn’t sweat a single drop while running through the forest earlier the day, but now he is panting above you like a man who’s just fought for his life.

He swallows hard, shakes his head, and looks at you.

Really looks at you.

“We can’t, darlin’,” He is breathless. His voice is hoarse. But firm.

His words should be a warning but they don’t sound like one. They sound pained. Strained. Regretful.

You know he wants you. You feel him. Even through the many layers of your skirts between you, he is hard, achingly so, pressed against your hip with a desperation that should be impossible to ignore.

But he is ignoring it.

Even though he wants you. Even though he is starving for you.

“I gotta do this right.” There is something solemn in the weight of his tone. Something real. His fingers twitch against your skin before he pulls away, enough to still hover closely over you.

Your brows furrow.

“I can’t have you like this. Not like this. S’ not right.”

It’s almost funny. Almost.

Because of course, he could. He could take you here right where you are the way he wants. He is stronger than you, faster than you, and he has you beneath him, pliant and willing. And yet, he holds himself back.

He looks down at you with something that almost looks like remorse, but not because he doesn’t want this. No, he does what this. It’s because he started it in the first place. Because he let himself taste you, let himself sink into you, let himself feel what he could have - what he could take - but does not.

“You really care about that,” you whisper, still catching your breath. It is more an observation than a question.

And you don’t mean it cruelly, not at all. You just did not expect it. For him to have this kind of restraint, this kind of morality. He is a mercenary, who kills without hesitation, whose hands are rough and bloodstained.

But you already came to see his caring side. So, really, it should not be all that be surprising.

“I didn’t think I would,” he admits quietly, voice rough, almost holding something amused. But then, just as quickly, a small grimace crosses his face and he looks away shortly.

But then his eyes are back on you and they soften.

“But I do.”

You don’t feel yourself breathing.

“I gotta do this right, sweetheart.”

There is something different in the way he says that. Something gentle. Something warm.

His calloused fingers brush against your cheek, his thumb running along the line of your jaw. It’s such a contrast to the way he has been kissing.

Your hands are still gripping him but your hold has loosened, fingers splayed against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his it.

Bucky’s arm winds carefully from beneath you, sliding free and making sure you lay comfortably.

You feel his fingers skim along the slackened fabric of your gown, adjusting it across your chest with an absentminded sort of tenderness. He pulls it back into place to keep the fabric from exposing you too much.

His other hand props himself up on his forearm beside your head to keep some of his weight off you.

Calloused fingers stay at your stomach, tracing idle patterns along the curve of your ribs. His eyes move with them. Then, again so achingly slowly, he trails his knuckles up over your chest, following the dip of your collarbone, to the side of your neck, where his palm cups your cheek with a softness that has you lying there completely limp.

A slow stroke of his thumb skims the shape of your cheekbone. His eyes meet your own again. His breath fans against your lips when he speaks.

“You deserve more than this.”

The words are spoken low. Filled with things deeper than regret and heavier than longing. His eyes travel down to the makeshift bed of dirt, leaves, and moss below you. He takes in the tangle of fabric, the stray twigs caught in your hair, the way your body is still half-pinned under him in the darkness of the woods.

His expression sours.

There is an instant flash of frustration. Displeasure. Something unfulfilled.

He wants to give you something better. More than the dirt, more than the forest, more than the running.

His eyes sweep back to yours and you hardly have a chance to suck in a breath before he bends toward you, so leisurely, voice husky and burning with a controlled heat that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“But trust me, darlin’.”

You swallow, shaking slightly.

His lips graze your jaw and he places tiny, but lingering kisses over the curve of it to your ear where his mouth finds the sensitive spot that makes you gasp quietly. He lingers there. He savors it. You feel him smirk.

“M’ gonna make it up to you.”

His voice drops to a sly whisper, only for you, only for this.

“Just you wait.”

****

The world wakes slowly.

The air is still cool, the lingering breath of night remaining in the leaves and the earth beneath you.

But you are warm.

Not because of the breaking dawn.

Because of him.

You are wrapped in Bucky’s arms, his body a furnace against yours. His heartbeat thumbs beneath your palm where it rests against his chest.

You don’t remember falling asleep exactly, only the feel of him, the deep rise and fall of his breath like he is able to get full breaths in for the first time in his life. You only felt the way his fingers had traced mindless patterns against your back until your body had melted into him completely.

Your breaths deepen as your senses slowly come back to you. Stirring against his chest, you feel the way his grip instinctively tightens at the movement, pulling you closer.

You blink against the first rays of the morning.

Bucky is awake.

You don’t know if he ever truly slept at all, or if he simply laid there, holding you, guarding you, letting his eyes slip closed only when he was sure you had drifted off first.

But when you tilt your head to look up at him, your breath catches.

Golden light dapples his skin in shifting patterns. And it paints his smile. His smile.

It is lopsided, lazy, and warm, the kind that tugs at the corners of his mouth like he isn’t used to smiling but can’t help himself right now.

“Mornin’, darlin’.”

A shiver runs through you.

His voice is rough and slow, like gravel smoothed over by honey. You inhale sharply, taking in the scent of leather and earth and him, pressing yourself closer without meaning to.

Bucky notices.

He smirks just slightly, shifting to pull you even closer.

Neither of you moves to get up.

Instead, you melt into him again, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, letting the warmth of him seep into every inch of you. His fingers press you tighter to him.

Carefully, he moves and you feel his breath over your skin, lips touching the corner of your jaw, before he dips lower. He kisses your neck in a slow and unhurried drag of his lips.

He doesn’t rush. He simply tastes you, presses his mouth to the place where your pulse flutters, lingers there, lets his teeth graze just enough to make your breath shudder and goosebumps rise.

Each kiss is softer than the last one and you feel them setting a fire in your belly.

You sigh, pressing further into you.

Bucky smirks against your skin.

“You sleep well?” he asks, voice a low murmur, thick and knowing, his lips brushing against your jaw between words.

You hum, a soft wordless sound that vibrates against his lips, still too caught in the haze of his touch.

He rolls slightly, so that his weight presses more firmly against you, pinning you beneath him. His hand slides lower, fingers skimming the curve of your waist, dipping beneath the loose folds of your gown, calloused fingertips tracing slow and aimless lines on your back, your waist. He is leisure about it, memorizing the shape of you like he never means to forget, and watching your reaction.

Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his shirt, gripping it slightly as you try to even your breaths, but it’s impossible when he is looking at you like that. Like you are something he intends to take his time with, something he is in no rush to let go of.

You blink up at him, still drowsy, still trying to process the fact that you woke up like this - with him wrapped around you.

“Am I overwhelmin’ you, darlin’?” he muses, speaking softly, but the smirk is still in his voice.

You let out a huff, tilting your chin up in mild indignation, but your attempt at a glare is short-lived. Because he chooses that exact moment to smooth another kiss beneath your ear, so consciously, his lips barely there, teasing the spot he already knows will unravel you.

The sigh you let out this time is less innocent.

Bucky chuckles, the sound deep and satisfied, vibrating through his chest where it’s pressed against yours. “Mm. That’s what I thought.”

Another kiss. “You want me to stop?” It’s an earnest whisper and he lifts his lips off your skin to look at you.

“No,” you breathe out.

“Good.” He dives back in.

Neither of you seems to be in a hurry to move any time soon.

You stay in his arms, feeling his breaths against your temple.

The world feels so quiet like this. So small. Like it only consists of the space between you.

But there’s that question burrowing in your mind since you left the castle - since you chose him and yourself over everything you had ever known. And as much as you’d like to keep living in this moment, you know you need to ask.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, darlin’?.”

The comfortable tone of his voice settles over you. His hands come to a halt on the dip of your spine, still lying between the folds to give you his full attention.

You hesitate, tracing small and lacy lines along the ridges of the brown leather strap crossing his chest.

“Where do we go now?” It’s a whisper.

His body shifts and you feel him exhale, his chest rising and falling slowly against you. Almost absentmindedly, he resumes the movements of his fingers at your back, as if weighing his answer in his silence.

“I know a place.”

You tilt your head up slightly, to catch his gaze. He looks back at you immediately. “That does not tell me much, Bucky,” you say lightly, but throw him a small expectant smile.

A corner of his lips quirks, but his eyes remain unreadable. “You’ll see soon enough,” he hums. A kiss is placed on your temple.

Leaning back just slightly, you try to search his eyes for more than his usual cryptic deflections. You study the way the light catches in the depths of his gaze, the way his features still are relaxed but somehow holding a guard up. As if there is more he’s not saying.

“Tell me something,” you plead in a whisper, keeping your tone soft.

His eyes switch between yours, his thumb grazing over your hipbone. He exhales through his nose but it lacks frustration.

“What do you wanna know, princess?”

“Are there others?”

He smiles a bit of a sad smile. Eyes on you “My friends.”

“Your friends?”

His smile falls into a smirk, a twinkle in his eyes returning. “Surprised I got ‘em?”

“No,” you retort quickly. Then softer, “Maybe a little.”

His low chuckle resounds in your own body and his arms around you tighten.

“Who are they?” you continue, eager to learn more. “And how many? Where do they live? Are they all together? Do they know you’re coming?”

Bucky lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting his head back against the mossy ground, feigning utter exhaustion at your curiosity. But his smirk doesn’t waver. “Again with those damn questions.”

You fight the smile threatening your lips, but it lifts your cheeks nevertheless. Shifting to prop yourself up on one elbow, you can see his face better. “Hey, you told me to ask.”

“Right.” He clicks his tongue, tilting his head with the motion. “That was my mistake. Shoulda seen it comin’.”

“I want to know more about you, Bucky,” you say after a beat, quieter this time.

His expression softens at that, eyes falling back to you. Looking at you for a long moment, he studies you the way someone would examine a delicate being. Long fingers trail up to brush against your cheek, his rough-skinned thumb grazing the high point of it before settling along your jaw and mapping the curve of it. He follows his fingers with his gaze before going back to your eyes.

And when he speaks again, his voice is lower. More careful, but sounding somewhat hollow.

“It ain’t no castle,” he says, gaze dropping to his fingers briefly, before returning to yours. “Or palace.”

There is something in the way he says it - like a warning, or an apology. He says it like a man who has been told his whole life that he could never offer something worth keeping.

You don’t believe him to think you might be dissatisfied, or that it won’t come close to any standards you might have. More like that some part of him believes he cannot give you what you deserve. Or what he might think you deserve.

A shadow of doubt.

Your heart clenches.

You don’t want him to doubt. Not even for a second.

You reach for him before you can think twice, letting your fingers skim over the rough scruff of his jaw. He lets you trace the line of his cheek, his temple, as if you could memorize him with your hands alone.

He doesn’t seem to breathe. His stare is piercing.

“Well, it is a good thing that castles suck,” you assess almost flatly.

There is a beat of silence and then Bucky laughs. Out loud. It resonates among the trees like something out of nature. It rumbles out of him, shaking his shoulders and you a little with it. His mouth curls into something wide and almost boyish, so utterly amused. He shakes his head in disbelief.

You grin at him. Can’t stop it.

With a wistful sigh, he fixes his gaze on your lips. “I do like that mouth of yours, princess.” He bites in his lip to suppress a snicker. There is a glint in his eyes, something playful, something teasing, something more in the way his gaze drops even lower still, raking it over the length of you.

His voice is dipped low. “If you keep talkin’ like that,” he drawls, something dark and sweet in his tone, “I might just have to take you right here.”

His words roll off his tongue in an indulgent kind of slowness, laced with something wicked - but not serious. His smirk deepens at the blush that starts to heat your skin, his eyes glinting with mirth. There is a deliberate lightness in the way he tilts his head, gauging your reaction.

He watches the way your throat bobs, the way your fingers twitch ever so slightly against his chest. You might as well have to fight the urge to just grab hold of him and pull him closer. He looks at your reactions so devastatingly patient, reveling in it, it makes your pulse pound against your chest. You can’t meet his eyes.

With a quirked brow, he leans in and leaves a small kiss at your ear before whispering, “Though I can’t have you for myself with that audience all up in the trees.”

A bird calls just as he says it.

And before you can tame the hotness bubbling in your belly, his hands at your waist start moving. Fast. He’s tickling you.

“Bucky-” you shriek in surprise, squirming in his hold, giggles spilling from your lips. He seems to know exactly where to touch, where to press to leave you gasping. He did take his time to memorize your body last night.

“Or would you like that kinda audience, princess, huh? That somethin’ for you?” It’s clear in his voice that he holds back his own laughter, shoulders shaking faintly.

“Stop,” you laugh, cheeks on fire, but you don’t do much to swat his hands away.

With a chuckle so full of smug satisfaction, he relents, easing up and letting you catch a breath. You keep giggling against him, hiding your face in his chest. His fingers stay at your waist, giving you a quick squeeze.

His grin softens and his own breathing evens out. A finger meets your chin to make you look back at him and his gaze traces your face as if he needed this. Needed this excuse to see you flustered, to hear you laugh.

And it takes a moment of regaining your breath before you realize just how light you actually feel.

Weightless.

Unburdened.

Not even as a child, when you ran barefoot through the palace halls, had you felt this way. Even then, you were never truly free.

Even in the secluded spots of the gardens, where you once thought solitude could feel like freedom, there was always a link, a bond encircling your wrist in the form of duty, expectation, obligation.

This.

This is freedom.

It is him.

“And how brave you are for letting go of everything that’s no longer for you.”

- Evan Sanders

Epilogue

Taglist: @cjand10 @unaxv @bellamoret @singsosworld @mrsnikstan @melsunshine @hawkinsavclub1983 @homiesexual-or-homosexual @vvs-dlxodyd @winterassassin1804 @thescarleteevee @coutureisart @chachkid @ibelieveindragons141

[paranormal-peri]

Guess who forgot to take their meds today

[madokamanga]

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 10

james potter x fem!reader

summary - In all the excitement—or horror, to you—of the week, including the rumors that were still spreading rapid-fire around school, or your supposed best friend James's mysteriously terrible mood, you'd almost forgotten: the time had finally come for you to go on your date in Hogsmeade.

wc [5.0k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 ->

Maybe your best friend's unexplainable foul mood had been the reason that sleep came difficult to you that night, or maybe it was the fact that the clock in your brain was counting down until the time the sun would rise. The time when morning would come and you'd take that carriage ride over to Hogsmeade with the boys like you'd promised, and have to find Sebastian to go on your date with him. Your date. It still didn't feel real.

You didn't know if anything you'd done in the past could truly be qualified as an official date, one you could refer back to that morning as you finally saw sunlight through your window and knew you'd have to get ready. Luckily, you had two of the best girls you knew for friends, and they were set on helping you.

"I'm telling you, it's the first dress." Marlene nodded her head at you with wide, excited eyes, as you held two different dresses still on hangers up to your neck. "I mean are you kidding? It's one hundred percent your color, and you look sexy as hell in it."

Your jaw dropped at her antics. "Marlene," you cooed nervously.

"I mean it. Sebastian's not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you when he sees you."

You covered your face with your hands, half because you were embarrassed, and half because you didn't need Lily and Marlene to see you spiraling at the thought of what Marlene had just suggested. You'd been so caught up with, well, everything going on, that you hadn't even considered what going on a date truly entailed. What if he wanted to kiss you?

"Then you kiss him back," Marlene said easily as you voiced your question aloud. She stopped herself. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah," Lily agreed, placing down a pair of nice shoes with a short but elegant heel on them that you'd forgotten you'd owned on the floor next to you. "Only do something if you want to do it. Don't let him pressure you into doing anything you don't want to. Even if it's as simple as holding your hand."

"Thank you guys, I know." You set the dress you were planning on wearing on the bed beside you, fiddling with the hanger pensively. "Holding his hand would be nice, I think." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, sitting down on the blanketed mattress. "To be honest, I don't know what I want." The two girls came to stand closer to you as you spoke. "I mean, Sebastian's a great guy and all, but do I even know him all that well?" Your mind traveled back to all the interactions you'd had with him. "What if I only said yes to go out with him because he asked me during the middle of that prank and I panicked and-"

"You need to relax," Lily said, voice firm but comforting at the same time. "You're just freaked out because it's the morning of. You're gonna have a great time." She shrugged a shoulder. "And if things don't click, then it wasn't meant to be. It's not the end of the world. "

"Exactly," the blonde said from next to her. "Don't let Potter's nonsense-spewing mouth ruin this date for you."

You'd filled them in the night before on all that'd been going on with James for the past few days, minus the few intimate 'almosts' that you'd shared with him that'd been dangerously playing in your mind even when you begged them to stop.

"Trust me," you said. "I'm trying not to."

"I still can't believe he's acting like this." Lily shook her head agitatedly. "And just when I was starting to think he might be maturing."

You nodded grievingly. "I would defend his honor to you, Lily, but I don't feel much like doing that right now."

"Maybe it's for the best." She breathed out a dry laugh. "Anyways, I suppose," she sighed. "Are you finished in the bathroom? I need to use the loo."

You snorted. "Yeah, all yours."

She shot you an overly excited grin and slipped into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. All the while, Marlene took a seat on the bed next to you, something glimmering behind her eyes that told you she had ideas she wanted to voice.

You stared at her half amusedly, half hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Did you ever think, during all your bickering, why Potter has such a problem with you going on this date?"

You sighed. That was all you could think about. You tipped your head at her, knowing where this conversation was going to lead. "Yeah," you said plainly. "Because he's set on the five of us spending every Hogsmeade trip together until we die."

"Or maybe," she argued, "it's because he's jealous."

You dropped your shoulders, shaking your head as you stared at her. "You're not serious."

The blonde stared back at you with an equal amount of fire. "I so am."

You laughed to yourself, perhaps deprecatingly. "The only thing James could be jealous about is the free butterbeer I'll probably be getting."

"Don't be dense."

"I'm not being dense. I'm being realistic." You puffed out a breath. "I know James. Well enough to know that, after we ..." you trailed off. "After the party, when he disappeared, he was freaked out because I'd scared him off. And he knows me too. I didn't have to tell him for him to figure out that I'd ... felt something for him. Something that he obviously was uncomfortable talking about, so I've spared him the trouble and moved on. That's the end of it." You picked up the dress you'd laid on the bed as you heard Lily washing her hands in the bathroom. "It has to be."

Marlene regarded you for a few seconds, maybe scoping out how genuine you were. "Like you said," she shrugged, "you know him best."

You nodded, ending the conversation as Lily exited the bathroom. Though the more this week went on, you believed that fact less and less.

You soon were leaving the sides of both Lily and Marlene after the walk down to the horseless carriages in front of the school, dozens of them stationed there to take everyone down to Hogsmeade.

The air was especially crisp for a September evening, making you think to yourself that maybe bringing a jacket would have been a smart choice, especially in the dress you were wearing, but your brain soon became occupied by other thoughts. Thoughts that were centered around the sight of your four friends standing around an unoccupied carriage in the distance, probably waiting for you.

You took a breath in, and then another one. You were completely devoted to ensuring this would be a drama-free carriage ride, no matter what, or who, tried to stop that from happening. You made your way over to the four boys, two of their backs turned to you. You tapped the long-haired one, of course Sirius, on the shoulder.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without me, did you?" you smirked up at him.

He had a wry smile on his face as he turned to you, surely ready with a quip to send back your way, but that smile left as he saw you, his eyes quickly scanned over you.

"Wow," he blanched. Then a sparkling grin took over his features. "You certainly clean up nice."

You crinkled your forehead at his remark and amused smirk until Remus cut in. "What he means is," corrected the sandy-haired boy from next to him. "You look beautiful. Seriously."

You felt your face begin to heat at the four pairs of eyes all now observing you as you stood there in your dress. You were surprised they weren't poking more fun at you than just Sirius's single obvious remark. You couldn't remember the last time you were this dressed up in front of them.

"Thanks," you muttered gratefully. "Now stop gushing and let's get a move on, yeah?"

Remus shook his head at your reaction but hid his laugh, taking an effortless step onto the high carriage, Peter quietly behind him. Sirius made a move to ruffle your hair, which you dodged easily and shot him a glare. He chuckled, making his way over to the carriage as well. That left only you and James.

You turned to him finally, expecting him to be avoiding your eyes as he'd done for the past few days, but instead found him looking straight at you, hazel eyes and all. You didn't know what to do under his gaze which you'd grown somewhat unused to, so you settled on doing nothing at all. You were still holding your grudge over how he'd been acting and weren't quick to forget about it. You were fully expecting him to do the same and say nothing to you at all.

"You do," he said suddenly, and at the confused quirk of your brow, softly added, "Look beautiful, I mean."

You paused, somewhat taken aback by both his words and the genuine tinge of his eyes. You didn't know how James could hold eye contact so easily, especially when he'd been so set on doing just the opposite lately.

"Oh," you voiced quietly, and couldn't help the way the corners of your lips tilted upwards. "Thanks."

He nodded wordlessly and the two of you turned back to the carriage that held your three other friends, clearly able to hear and see your conversation. You eyed the tall wooden floor of the carriage before you and then the high cut of your dress, and then your shoes. As if reading your mind, a firm hand held itself out in front of you.

You peaked your head over to the source of the hand: James, who looked at you expectantly, a certain air to him that was both light and heavy. You regarded him and his hand for a split second, deciding there was no harm in taking it, and did, your fingers slipping over his steadying palm as you took the large step into the carriage. And maybe you were imagining it, but you felt the ghost of his fingers delicately shadowing your lower back as you steadied yourself into your seat, James following from behind.

He sat across from you and you avoided looking at him as you fought reacting to the feeling that ran through you, like you were still on some kind of high from his touch. It only made you mad to think about, so you decided not to, looking elsewhere instead as the carriage began moving seemingly on its own.

It'd only taken a few moments for the Hogwarts castle to be only a beautiful shrinking sight in the distance, and for the scenery of the early fall to take over your senses instead. You were sat in front of James, who sat next to Peter, the blonde looking rather sickly and lost in troubling thoughts.

"Pete," you called curiously. "You alright? You look pale."

The boy in question turned to you with worry behind his eyes, but he only nodded. "Yeah, I'm great," he said, voice rather shaky for someone who was 'great.'

"He's just nervous about his date." Sirius reached across the carriage to pat Peter on his shoulder, shaking him a little in his frail state. "You've got nothing to be worried about, mate."

"Yeah, Sirus is right," you agreed. "Remember, she asked you out because she wanted to spend time with you as you already are. Just be yourself."

Sirius nodded, before shifting his focus to you. "And what about you? You nervous for your date with Vance?"

You shrugged. "Maybe before, but I think I'm alright now." You smiled thinly. "I already talked it out with Lily and Marlene in our dorm getting ready."

"So that's what you ladies do up there?" Sirius asked, and you frowned. "Thought there'd be more pillowfights in your underwear."

You made a nauseated expression as Sirius grinned at his own joke. "You're disgusting," you scolded, though Peter had let a smile overtake his face at the joke and you figured maybe it was worth it.

Remus was shaking his head as well from next to you, the corners of his mouth teasing upwards. You turned forward again, James straight in your line of vision, but it didn't even seem he was listening to the conversation at hand, head aimed out the side of the carriage. He looked more distant than ever as he sat tensely and you had to fight the urge to reach out to him. You knew all too well what would come from that.

You let your focus slip onto other things, like the wind that was brushing against your exposed arms and moving your hair slightly in the wind. You fought a shiver, bringing your hands up to rub at the sides of your arms—you were sure you had goosebumps.

For the second time that morning, like he was reading your mind, you watched as James held out his arm towards you, though this time he was holding something in his hand instead: his coat. It was brown on the outside, a light jacket that was lined with a soft flannel fabric, one that you always thought looked dashing on him. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to take it.

You faltered from surprise and then shook your head. "I'm alright," you said softly, pursing your lips.

"You're practically shivering," James pointed out, tipping out his chin at you. "Just take it."

"I don't want to take your own jacket from you, James. It's chilly."

"Exactly," he said, catching you in your lie. "And you're not taking it from me, I'm giving it to you."

You looked up from the jacket he was offering, if you could call it an offer, and at him, seeing the stubborn hold of his jaw and yet the sincere gloss of his eyes. Because you knew he wouldn't let you say no anyway now that you'd admitted it was chilly, you took it from his hand.

You wrapped the too-big coat over your shoulders, grateful but perhaps hateful of the way it immediately warmed you like the lighting of a fireplace. It smelt warm and comforting like a fireplace too, or maybe that was just the fact that it was James's jacket and he always smelled strangely nice. You blinked at yourself, chasing away your thoughts that were certainly not appropriate, considering you were currently on your way to a date with a different boy.

In all your thinking, it was like you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked up again, but James already had gone back to staring out at the moving scenery. You couldn't read him right then, and if there was anything you'd learned about James from all the years you'd known him, it was that you could always read him, even when others couldn't. The fact that you hadn't been able to read him for days was worrying you sick and setting you off all at once. You just wished you could get inside his head.

You sighed, your eyes shifting over to Remus, who was giving you the oddest of looks. The corners of his eyes crinkled, though his lips stayed shut together. You raised a brow and he only shrugged, looking away again. You really needed to get inside that boy's head, too.

Before you could even mull over the different possibilities of ways that your up-and-coming date could go wrong, a habit of your mind that you hated, the carriage had pulled up into Hogsmeade. It came to a slow stop next to the uniquely shaped brick buildings you'd become all too familiar with over the years. That didn't take away from the excitement bubbling inside your stomach—or maybe that was nervousness; you couldn't tell anymore.

All five of you exited the carriage, James offering you his hand again as you took the big step onto the ground. You were growing too frustrated to even consider the feeling of your hand in his larger one that somehow was still as warm as the jacket you wore. How he could be so sweet yet so aggravatingly aloof you didn't know, but you forced your mind off the topic once again. Only, you couldn't force thoughts of James away completely, because he was calling your name as soon as you'd walked past him.

Your head turned to him so swiftly it almost made you dizzy. He was standing there along the side of a building you identified as The Three Broomsticks, hands now shoved into his trouser pockets with his head slightly tipped forward, though he stood up straighter as you made your way to him.

"Yeah?" you questioned, and maybe your tone was testy, but you didn't have it in you to alter it for his sake.

James shifted his footing underneath your gaze, taking a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

The pull of your brows let up at his words and you observed his facial expressions shamelessly, sorting through what to say. Luckily, he spoke again before you could.

"I'm sorry for making you take the carriage ride into Hogsmeade with the rest of us. You should've just gone with your date. I was just in an ... off mood last night. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

And just like that, the hope you were harboring when James had first uttered the word 'sorry' had bubbled and churned inside of you until all that was left was dissatisfaction.

"Is that all?" you questioned.

James's lips parted. "What?"

"I mean, I'm grateful for your apology," you breathed the word like it left a foul taste in your mouth. "But is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Apologize for?"

James scratched his head almost comically, and you laughed without any humor as you began to turn around. Before you could take a single step, James grasped your wrist in his fingertips, and you fought not to notice how feather-light he held onto you.

"Like what?" he asked you, and at your stone expression he dropped your hand. "Please," he insisted.

You swallowed and shrugged up your shoulders irritatedly. "Oh, I don't know James, maybe the fact that you've been acting 'off' this whole week and won't say a word as to why?" You took the hand he'd held and put it to your forehead. "I've probably asked you if you were okay about a dozen times and all you can say to me is that you're 'fine' when you're clearly ticked off."

"Because that's the truth," James insisted.

"Please," you remarked. "It's not the truth. Don't lie to me, James. I know you. Better than anyone else, and I know when you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset, alright?" James squinted at you. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because!" You took a breath in, trying to calm yourself because this was not the drama-free morning you wanted to have. "Because, every time I've been down, which has been too many times to count, you've been there for me. Always."

You thought back to the night you realized you loved him as more than just a friend, when he'd comforted you through your tears so quickly and sweetly, and it only made you feel more exasperated.

"So I'm not just going to 'let it go' when something's so obviously bothering you, enough to make you act completely differently to the point where you won't even talk to me." You paused, noticing the sinking in James's gaze the more you spoke. "And quite frankly," you continued, "it hurts like hell that you don't think you can tell me what's been going on, because you can. We're supposed to be best friends, remember?"

James let out a low breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff that had your forehead pulling. "Trust me, I remember."

"Then why the hell won't you just talk to me?" Your palms were facing him, telling him it was his move, his turn to try and fix things.

"Because there's nothing to say." He'd thrown away his turn without a second glance, running a fast hand through his hair. "God, this was a mistake. Every time I talk to you, I just-" he stopped himself.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest. "You just what?"

James shook his stubborn head, a muscle in his jaw noticeably flexing. "Nothing, alright?" He looked upwards, like he was battling something greater than him, and began walking towards wherever the hell James Potter went when he didn't want to talk to you. You weren't going to let him.

"How long are you going to keep doing this for, James?" He halted his steps, turning his head back towards you with a rigid look in his eyes. "How long are you going to avoid me?"

"Avoid you?" he laughed, and you froze. "That's rich, coming from you of all people."

You clamped your jaw shut for a beat, blinking at him as your mind started to spin. "What are you talking about?" You knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm talking about when you were avoiding me just a few days ago. Ring a bell?"

You lowered your gaze, confidence stuttering. You didn't respond.

"I mean, you wouldn't even partner with me Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake."

"That was different," you argued, though you were ashamed of how pathetic the words sounded coming from your lips.

"How?" James asked, staring at you fearlessly now with raised, expectant brows and an unmoving jaw.

"It ... it just is!" You looked away. "We're getting off track. My point was that ... I just miss you, James." The irony of your warm words contrasted with the angry shake of your lips didn't escape you. "I miss the James who wouldn't push me away every time I tried to have a conversation with him, or who wouldn't act like a bloody child every time I mention I'm going on a date."

If you thought you saw a crack of guilt racking James's expression, there was no trace of it now.

"Oh yeah?" he questioned, his tone colder than you'd ever heard it. "I'm sorry I don't like talking about your beloved Sebastian every five minutes."

"Well it's not like I can talk to you about anything else, can I?" Your heart was thumping in your chest and you felt like crying. "You know what?" You chewed on the inside of your cheek, turning away. "I give up! Let's just talk whenever you're ready to be honest with me."

Your back was to him when he shouted, "You want me to be honest?" You scoffed, nodding your head. "That's what you want?" he repeated.

"Yes James!" you shouted. "That's exactly what I want!"

"Well then, fine!" He wiped a desperate hand over his face, throwing up his arms. "We kissed, alright?"

Your heart sizzled somewhere in your chest beneath your stilled lungs, every part of you halting its movements. Your expression fell slowly and you blinked at him, staring wordlessly for a moment. "What?"

James stared back at you, looking at you more than he'd looked at you in the past week altogether. The opposite of yours, his chest heaved up and down like he'd been fighting for air and could only now come up for oxygen. He didn't look like he'd misspoken and that scared you more than anything.

"We kissed. Last week. At the party."

Your lips hung, parted and confused. "What are you-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We kissed, and you ran off, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

Your eyes felt like they had a mind of their own, scanning rapidly over James and then looking at the ground, your heeled shoes, anywhere but at him because your world was shifting around you, the walls of what you thought you knew crumbling down on you.

You swallowed, throat going dry. "James," you voiced carefully. "That kiss was ..." you shook your head. "We were playing a game."

Maybe he would take the slowness of your words for sureness rather than struggle, because that along with seemingly every other emotion was what you were feeling inside.

"No, c'mon. Don't do that." James shook his head back at you and you felt like running away, but you couldn't now. Not when he was looking at you like that. "Don't try and make it seem like that was all it was, because it wasn't. Not for me, and I know it meant more to you too."

The cool breeze from before had picked up and was turning into an inexorable wind that made you feel worse than you already did. Could he see the way you had to stop yourself from shaking? Hear the way you willed your heartbeat to stop pounding? Clearly not, because he kept talking.

"For days, weeks even, all that's been on my mind was you. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

You felt dizzy with the way he was staring into your eyes. Like you'd voiced to yourself a million times, how James held eye contact so effortlessly was a mystery you'd never find the answer to.

"And I know you said you wanted to just pretend like the kiss never happened, but you should know that I can't do that, alright? Trust me. I've tried, and obviously that didn't work." He ran a hand through his tousled hair again. "So I just ... I need you to say something to me. Anything."

You willed yourself to speak again, blood rushing past your ears now. "I ... I don't know what to say. It was a part of a game."

James practically flinched. "Anything but that." He breathed out a laugh without any chest, tipping his head back and taking steps around. "God."

You still felt like crying, because nothing was making sense. Then James refocused on you, and you felt pinned underneath his gaze.

"You can tell me it was part of a game however many times you want." His words were achingly slow and desperate. "But tell me ... just tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed. That it meant absolutely nothing to you, and I'll stop talking. I promise."

You knew he meant what he said; you could see it all through his hazel eyes. You'd asked for honesty and you'd gotten it. You knew that you couldn't lie to him anymore, and you said your truth with your voice was on the verge of breaking.

"I can't." Even if your voice shook, James heard it loud and clear. He stopped moving and stepped closer to you whether he noticed or not. "But that doesn't mean it can mean anything now."

If it was possible, he went even more still. His eyes pleaded with you to say more to him, so you did. "It's not fair, James." Your voice broke off, and James took both your hands in his, and held them tight near his chest, like hope pumped through them.

"What? What's not fair, Love?"

You flinched at the name you hadn't heard in seemingly forever, but it pinched at the part of your brain that remembered it vividly. You didn't know how this moment was real. You looked down at his hands that engulfed yours. "It's not fair that it meant something, because it can't."

You pretended not to notice the way James's hands loosened their hold. "Not when-" your voice hitched at the sign of your eyes blurring despite how much you'd willed them not to. "Not after I spent months—years, even—trying to make every interaction between us mean something. After I spent all that time trying to get over you! It- it's not fair, and I won't do it. I won't."

You shook your head timidly and repeatedly like it would stop what was happening. You didn't know when you and James had moved away from each other, probably somewhere between your voice breaking and your eyes watering, but you had. But that wasn't was most important.

James had gone eerily still, painfully silent. That didn't change the fact that his unforgiving eyes continued to search what seemed like every inch of your face. His voice rang out lowly.

"Get over me?" His heavy brows furrowed in hurt and bewilderment. "Wh-" he choked. "What do you mean 'get over me'?"

You put a hand to your head, amused in your disbelief. "Like you haven't known."

James took a persistent step forward, the pinch between his brows desperate. "What the hell are you talking about?"

This all felt like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from. You forced yourself to breathe. "I really can't do this right now, I-" You didn't think you could do it ever. You pulled at the hem of your dress. "I have a date."

Even with the wind whipping against you both, you'd never heard a silence like the one you did right then.

"You're really still going on that date?" James peered at you interrogatingly, his eyes slightly red now, and it killed you.

"What am I supposed to do, James?"

You wiped at your nose. James's hands were elevated at his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, but didn't. He looked like he didn't know what he wanted to do, but he didn't stop.

"You can't just go running away all because ..." he panted, "because..." His voice trailed off.

You wanted to shout at him that all you'd done since forever was stop yourself from running away, but you didn't. It wasn't his fault you'd tortured yourself all these years. But that didn't mean he could get his happy ending with the snap of his fingers, either.

Just to twist the knife in your chest, he whispered, "Please."

You dropped your gaze low to the cobblestone ground beneath your feet, blurry now through your lashes. "I need to go." The sight of him standing before you, eyes watery and lips parted helplessly, sent painful pangs through your heart. You moved your head, willing yourself to turn away and your legs to move. You didn't think you could leave if you looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Those same eyes followed you as you walked down the path, head hung low but steps quickening despite. Steps taken in the direction of The Three Broomsticks, where you'd go on your date with Sebastian. Your mind kicked and screamed at you at every step, but you couldn't get them to stop.

You felt James's eyes on your retreating form like you felt the wind snapping against your cheeks, though you didn't turn back to look at him. That way, he wouldn't be able to see the way your expression shook at the effort of just trying to keep yourself together.

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[poposusz]

‘I can’t keep doing this Rulie.’

Inspired by that scene in Death’s Embrace.

A bloodier version under the cut

[damn-stark]

Chapter 10 Heart of Ice

Chapter 10 of Moonlight

A/N- I was giggling and kicking my feet tehehe ;)

Warning- some swearing, talks of miscarriage and death, ANGST!, FLUFF, mild NFSW, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There it is, standing so tall that it looks like it’s touching the sky. It’s mesmerizing no matter how many times you’ve seen it, and it never fails to steal your breath.

Yet the wall is at its prettiest when it weeps when the sun hits it just as it rises from the ground. Right now all it does is bring forth an icier chill as the wind blows, making you hold onto your cloak for warmth.

You can only imagine how Jacaerys is fairing, this is his first time at Castle Black.

“How are you holding up?” You make sure to ask your brother as his eyes stay stuck on the towering wall.

“My balls are about to freeze off,” he makes no effort to talk properly in front of you, nor do you remind him to.

You smile at him and look at him with a soft endearment only reserved for those you deeply cherish. “It will be worth it, I promise. I cannot wait for you to see it,” you muse and cup his shoulder.

Jacaerys finally takes his eyes off the wall and meets your gaze with such a warm smile that it’s capable of melting the thickest sheets of ice.

“It better live up to everything you have said,” he remarks lightheartedly, making you drop your head to laugh softly at the ground.

“It will pass your expectations,” Cregan interjects as he finally rejoins you and leads the way to the lift that looks a bit unreliable, but all the people at Castle Black use it, and you have survived after using it so, you walk in. Slowly of course, and you don’t dare pay too much attention to the sounds it makes as it starts moving Jacaerys, Cregan, and you to the top.

“You know,” you take the attention of the rackety noise. “Perhaps one day I will send one of my children over here to take up a role as guardian of the wall.”

“Is that so?” Cregan probes.

“One of your seven?” Jacaerys jokes and you laugh softly but don’t take back what you said, catching him by some surprise.

“It’s a rare thing for a Targaryen or Velaryon to come be a brother of the Night's Watch,” you explain your thought process to the curious men. “But we are the families the people look up to. I mean I understand the sacrifice, but I believe that for us to have a good relation with the North, and for us to protect our realm against what may be out there, we too should be here with a dragon or two.”

Cregan briefly meets your gaze and hides well those emotions you stir up inside since your brother is standing at his other side, but he doesn’t stay quiet, he takes a deep breath before he parts his lips.

“You are right, the sacrifice one must commit is great, but duty is sacrifice,” Cregan begins to say. “It eclipses all things, even blood. All men of honor must pay its price. The North owes a great duty to the Seven Kingdoms, one older than any oath. Since the day of the first men, we have stood as guardians against the cold and the dark. Through its long tradition, the Night's Watch cultivated its strength from doomed men who had their life as their only possession. But my ancestor, Torrhen Stark began a tradition by making an offering at the onset of winter; one in 10 men from our household was to be chosen to fortify the Watch. This is not a sentence but an honor. A duty embraced by all who serve the North. Even by mine own kin. Thus I respect your decision, My Princess.”

He talks so well that even these long comments captivate you, and that’s hard to do because you get so easily bored.

“The North must stand ready,” Cregan adds without losing a breath. “Winter is coming.”

“Coming?” Jacaerys interjects. “What is this, then, that falls from the skies and shivers my bones?”

You roll your eyes away and scoff softly.

He thinks he’s so funny.

“This is only a late summer snow, my prince,” Cregan says something he’s already mentioned once before. “In winter, it will cover all you see and all memories of warmth will be forgotten.”

You look through the gaps on the wooden walls but the lift then shakes so you step back and stand closer to Cregan.

“It pleases me to think that over a century ago our ancestors treated in this very place,” Jacaerys mentions with a lighthearted look on his face. “The Conqueror and the King in the North.”

You can’t help but smile at the thought and the history the Starks share with your ancestors. It’s so bittersweet. But it’s all so corny of Jacaerys to say, he sounds just as infatuated as you.

You would tease him, but now doesn’t seem like the time so you just smile wider to yourself.

Cregan’s gaze wanders to you after your brother's words, and you share some of that sweetness with him because regardless of it all, you are happy Jacaerys expressed his fondness for Cregan.

And when Cregan does see your smile some of that hardened demeanor melts.

“You, at least had the mercy not to threaten me with your dragon,” Cregan quips at your brother jokingly, leaving him silent until he queries.

“Did my sister threaten you with her dragon?”

Does he think of you as some wild beast or something?

Regardless, Cregan's eyes soften before he shakes his head and tells him what you did do. “No, but she did threaten to go over the wall and escape when she first got to Winterfell six years ago.” He says and tilts his head over to you, but you look out the window and shake your head.

“I was having a hard time adjusting,” you remind him. “And I did not end up going over the wall.”

“No,” he mutters softer as if speaking with admiration. “You did not.”

You lift your eyes off the icy wall and let yourself meet and hold his gaze with a soft look just until the lift finally lands on the top because when it comes to a sudden halt the wooden lift shakes, and you’re reminded why you hate coming to the top this way—You almost reach out to Cregan to keep yourself balanced and safe, but you stop yourself and just stand stiffly until finally he opens the door for you and your brother, letting you feel like you can breathe again when you’re on stable ground.

“My Prince, My Princess,” one of the brothers greets you while you slip your arm around your brothers to hold onto more warmth as the coldness nips at your skin.

“My Lord.”

“My Lord,” other brothers greet Cregan while he walks after you until finally he catches up and leads you to one side.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would’ve sooner died than bent the knee,” you chose to return to the previous topic as you watch Jacaerys’ eyes fall on every single detail you pass by. “Unless he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Cregan nods. “You are right in that,” he agrees.

“That unity is now threatened,” Jacaerys goes on for you with another clever workaround to the subject at hand. “The realm will soon tear itself apart if men do not remember the oaths sworn to King Viserys and to his rightful heir.”

Again you can’t help but be proud of the way he speaks. But you also know this second attempt won’t mend Cregan Stark’s choice.

“Stark’s do not forget their oaths, my Prince,” Cregan reminds him proudly. “But you must know that my gaze is forever torn between North and South.”

Jacaerys glances over at you with discreet disappointment, and you press him an, ‘I told you so’ look right back.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing,” Cregan strengthens his argument. “I need my men here.”

You swallow thickly as you come to a halt just under a post, and Jacaerys turns you around with him to pass Cregan a hard look that furrows his eyebrows. “Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne,” he remarks.

You grip onto him as a warning for him to calm down, but he doesn’t understand.

“If my mother is to defend her claim,” Jacaerys presses while Cregan guides all of you up the stairs. “To hold the realm united she needs an army. War is coming to the whole of the realm, my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North…” Jacaerys trails off when he reaches the top and finally sees with his own eyes the never-ending land beyond the wall, the beauty that you promised, and what you could never fully describe in words.

He moves toward the end of the post and you let your arm slip off his to let him admire for himself the beauty and the mystery that is the North, and the freedom it holds in its cold wilderness.

You can now honestly say you know the pride Cregan felt when he first brought you up here because you feel it. You are not from here, but seeing your brother be so captivated by what’s beyond the wall makes you fill with excitement that you can’t put into words, you can just express it with admiration and awe in your eyes.

Cregan notices and admires you while your brother's attention is far away, and to his surprise, you feel his stare and return his soft gaze while you also let your gloved knuckles brush against each other as you let yourself be swooped up once again by the comfort you have been fighting to feel.

Yet you don’t let yourself get completely carried away, nor do you cross the line by letting your fingers touch, you keep your smile and join your brother's side.

“Was it everything you expected?” You ask before you’re brought back to the cruel reality.

Jacaerys laughs softly and nods. “It was everything you said and more…it feels like I could stay here and admire this forever.”

“It would get cold,” you joke, making him chuckle.

“It would be pleasant,” he murmurs.

You nod in agreement and dread returning to the sore subject, but you will lose yourself.

“I brought your sister, and my father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall,” Cregan finally rejoins your company. “His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons the greatest power in the world, refused to cross it.”

Jacaerys snaps his head to you and probes for more. “Even adventurous Astraea?”

You look out and nod. “Yes. She perches herself on the wall but never once does she fly over, nor does she dare fly over just to turn. I tried to command her to cross but she disobeyed me,” you back up Cregan's argument and feel a chill crawl down your spine at the reminder.

“Do you think my ancestors built a 700-hundred-foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?” Cregan presses your brother in a colder tone that almost works to frighten you.

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan leans in closer to your brother and speaks one word. “Death.”

You swallow back nervously and share your uneasiness with your brother with a simple look that actually helps him let go of some of that tension and ignorance he held.

“I have thousands of graybeards,” Cregan finally offers and breaks the speechless moment between Jacaerys and you. “Who've already seen too many winters. They are well-honed.”

You loll your head to the side and snicker, while Jacaerys says what you were thinking. “So they’re old?”

“I can ready them to march at once,” Cregan assures him and you.

Jacaerys breathes out and accepts the offer. “If your graybeards can fight, the Queen will have them.”

“They will fight hard,” Cregan states with a hint of pride and some faint smugness. “Like Northerners.”

You glance over at him and catch that smugness on his usually serious face and you can’t help your heart from skipping a beat when he glances at you with the same look.

“My Lord,” a man calls for Cregan’s attention, making his face fall hard once again. “A ravens arrived.”

The man approaches the post breathing hard as if in a hurry and hands Cregan a scroll. “Urgent news from Dragonstone,” he announces, making you understand his urgency, and causing you to fall serious and nervous yourself.

But if it is bad news wouldn't it be sent directly to Jacaerys and you?

Maybe?

Unless—

You can’t let yourself think the worst, but you still share your worry with your brother before you watch Cregan unravel the scroll to read what the news is.

He doesn’t take long to read, but it feels like he is reading for eternity in the waiting silence until finally he puts the scroll down and meets your gaze. This time when you lock eyes your heart skips a beat out of worry instead of awe, this time a smugness doesn’t play in his eyes or tug the corner of his lips up, his eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is clenched like when he makes his face hard, but you can read him clear as day as you simply hold his gaze.

You can see the pity pulling his lips down, and a soft apologetic look in his grey eyes that makes them appear darker. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know that what he read wasn’t a simple warning or a call home, they’re dark words that he almost but says.

You want to ask, he knows that, he sees your worry heighten in your furrowed brows and parted lips, so with a simple blink his face softens as he gives you sorrow, making your eyes immediately cloud with tears. While in the back, Jacaerys sees it, your shared past. He figures it out in the exchange that is far more complex than one friends should share, but it all makes sense now.

Your friendship always slightly caught his attention, it bugged him in some way. Not because he felt bad for Aemond that you were so sweet on another man, but all your interactions were always weird he just didn’t figure out why until this very moment as Cregan fails to look over at him after what he read, as he watches this speechless interaction and sees the deep aching softness on the Lord's face and a deep set heartache in your eyes.

He had only seen such a speechless complexity in his mother and Ser Harwin. He was too young to realize it then but as he got older he understood what happened around him, and doesn’t fail to understand now.

Yet as much as he wants to give into this anger he feels boil within him at the thought of Lord Stark taking advantage of you in your five years in Winterfell, the news that awaits him helps him stay collected. Thus he steps forward without causing a scene and finally, Lord Stark drives all the attention to him, letting him finally receive the scroll, and leave you waiting longer without focusing on Cregan any longer. Now you turn to face your brother as he reads what was sent.

Once again it feels like what was written is getting read at an infuriatingly slow pace, but now you’re not impatient to know. You’re scared to know or read Jacaerys' face now. But you keep your eyes on your brother and watch his jaw unclench and his lips part to let out a soft gasp, while his once steady hands begin to tremble, and his eyes…water.

“Jacaerys,” you almost plead his name out.

That anger he had at the waiting completely disappears and he slowly looks up at you with a loud and heartbreaking sorrow.

“Jace,” you mewl.

Said man licks his lips and sniffles before he grabs your arm and gently pulls you aside.

“Listen to me,” his voice quivers and only makes your heart race faster than it’s already beating.

“Is it…” you trail off to catch your breath. “A-Aerion?”

Jacaerys shakes his head and keeps in those tears that fill his eyes. “No, Aerion is fine,” he assures you but you don’t feel relieved.

“What?” You beg for an answer and reach for his hands, but he lifts them and tucks loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“When,” he says shakily. “Lucerys was in StormsEnd, Aemond…”

You start to shake your head and his bottom lip trembles.

“Aemond killed Lucerys,” Jacaerys finally reveals quietly.

A cold breeze hits you and all that you had been feeling gets lost in the wind, leaving you numb.

Jacaerys calls your name but you stare ahead blankly. Theres nothing that crosses your mind, there’s nothing you feel that makes you react. You know it’s heavy and painful news, you knew they were dark words when Cregan told you speechlessly, but you can’t accept the truth that’s given. You don’t want to, you can’t because if you do then it means you will accept that your husband, the man you love…did what was written, and you don’t want to accept that.

However, Jacaerys calls out for you again and this time he grabs your arms and steals your attention, forcing you to once again connect to what you refused to feel.

“No,” you blurt and push him back. “You’re lying. You’re a liar.”

Jacaerys shows you the scroll as he gets close again. “You can read it yourself. It’s the truth, Lucerys…he’s,” he strains to say. “He’s…dead.”

Your heart drops and a flood of emotions rams through you, knocking the air out of your lungs, and making your legs weak.

Jacaerys grabs your arms and holds you up before you can fall and pulls you to him, letting you see how red his eyes are, and how drowned they are with tears he’s holding back.

“Jace,” you mewl and cover your mouth to sob.

Your brother nods in understanding without you having to express the rest of your sorrow. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

“Oh gods,” you gasp and drop your head while grabbing at your chest as you can’t seem to catch a breath. You can’t breathe. There’s so much air where you are, it’s so crisp but you can’t manage to take in any which in return only lets you feel the pounding of your heart, the rushing of your blood, and a rush of memories of your little brother Lucerys.

All you can think about is Lucerys, you imagine his last moments, and with every memory and every fake scenario the more you fail to grasp for air.

In the distance, Cregan watches how you’re breaking down, but no matter how much he wants to, he has to stay put even if it hurts not being able to help you when you need him the most. He does get close to trying something small since you are in so much pain trying to breathe, and your brother seems a bit lost on how to help you, but Jacaesys then does the first thing he thinks of and pulls you into an embrace.

Thankfully right away, at the feeling of your brother's weight, and at the feeling of his warmth, all those rushing memories slowly disappear, letting you draw in a deep breath. You pull him closer and bury your head in the crook of his neck whilst you wrap your hand around the back of his neck, and push his head down to let him bury his face on your shoulder so he can express everything he refuses to show to the public.

When he clutches onto the back of your cloak your heart comes to a slow pace, but it doesn’t stop weeping. With every ba-dum, you feel an aching pain in your chest that doesn’t go away.

Eventually, after a short time, Jacaerys pulls back and gives his back to Cregan to wipe away his tears before facing him with a sorrow that isn’t able to wipe off. “We need to go, my Lord. You’ll have to forgive us for not accompanying you back to Winterfell, but with our dragons here we need to make haste to return to Dragonstone.”

You grab at your chest and gently caress it as if that would cure you’re heartache while Jacaerys shares something you agree to without the need for a discussion.

Albeit Cregan is the one who protests. “It will get dark soon, why do you not wait until first light to take flight? Wait until you both have collected yourselves so you don't do anything rash in the heat of the moment.”

You shake your head and interject in a broken voice. “The storm won’t pass, Lord Stark. We’ll just face it head-on and leave, our mother needs us.”

Cregan steps forward, gaining a brief glance from you. “Just eat, and rest…I know the pain of losing a brother, I understand your grief, my heart is with you,” he tries to relate so you would listen. “I have lost many others too, I know the anger, please just let yourselves calm down before you return home. I will stay with you here.”

You know your brother too, you know how angry he can get. You know that once your grief really settles you’ll also start thinking of what happened and you’ll get upset too. Thus you don’t hurry to answer, you look at your brother and he looks at you. And without a word, you come to the same conclusion.

“All right,” Jacaerys says for the both of you. “We will stay, but leave at first light. Thank you, my Lord.”

——

*LATER*

Nothing makes sense.

Why? How?

Those questions are what runs around and around in your head accompanied by different terrifying scenarios that could’ve led to the act. A lot of it points to an accident, you want to believe in your heart of hearts that what…Aemond did was an accident. You don’t want to believe that this remorse got the best of him, he’s supposed to be better, he’s supposed to keep it in for your sake.

He knows how much you love your brothers, he knows he can hate them all he wants, but he can’t hurt them. And yes! You know that war was going to happen no matter what, and violence was going to be dragged in between your families, but Aemond went out of his way to…kill Lucerys when all he was was an envoy.

He killed your brother. Your husband killed your brother, and in turn, betrayed you in the worst way possible. He tore your heart out, and what hurts more is that he hasn’t said what he did in the multiple ravens he’s sent! Just like always, he never tells you a thing!

What are you supposed to believe, but the worst? You want to believe he’s good behind all that hard demeanor, you defend him against your family when they say something bad because you want to believe he has a good heart, but what does killing Lucerys prove? That you’ve been wrong all along?

Gods!

Damn it! Why did he have to do it? Why did he take Lucerys?

A knock raps on your door, but you’re so drowned in your heartache that you don’t hear the sound. It’s not until you hear your name being called out softly behind that door that you almost wake up from your stupor.

“It is I, Cregan,” he announces without the need to, you knew who he was the moment he uttered the first word. “Can I talk to you? You didn’t come for supper.”

You blink repeatedly to relieve the dry spell in your eyes after not blinking for a few seconds and clutch onto the ring you were fiddling with before you get up and unlock the door. You don’t proceed to say anything, you walk away from the door and stand against the fireplace, but Cregan takes the unlocked door as an invitation and walks in, finding your food untouched, you in your nightgown, and your head down.

“I came to check on you,” he says softly as if careful not to hurt you even more with his voice. When he gets no response or even a small breath, he walks in further and notices now how unkempt you are; you’re usually so precise with the way you keep yourself, you always look so clean and tidy, it was only in the morning when you first woke up that he would catch you off guard, but now it’s like you don’t care how you look.

“I hope you are not going to bed with your hair down like that,” he tries to be lighthearted. “You hate having your hair tangled in the morning.”

He waits for a reaction, a soft ‘oh’, but you stay quiet and it just deepens his concern.

“Darling,” he uses your pet name and you finally break from your stupor and turn partially to face him.

He expected a sweet look just out of instinct, but those usually wonder-filled eyes are clouded by agony and tears that can’t even fall down your cheeks anymore; while the fires fierce light brings clarity to your deep set frown, knitted brows, and puffy face worn out from crying.

“Here,” he breathes out and catches a gleam coming from in between your fingers. When he fills his curiosity he notices that the firelight is dancing on a sapphire ring you cannot stop fiddling with in between your fingers; a ring he had not seen you take off once since he saw you. Which must mean your husband gave it to you.

He doesn’t want to ask for many reasons, so he approaches you from behind and gently starts braiding your hair in silence you cannot seem to fill. It’s almost like there was no one inside your body, you were a hollow body left soulless.

“I understand why you locked your door,” he mentions in hopes that would get him a simple reaction. “However, it does not seem necessary, your dragons are restless and it stirs up fear in the brothers. And I am here as well.”

Your back raises as you draw in a deep breath, but rather than filling the silence with a dry response, or some remark, you just breathe out, making him steal a glance at the side of your face that he can see from behind you, before he pulls out the leather strip that keeps half of his hair out of his face to keep your own braid in place instead. He then proceeds to shuffle to your side to grab your arm.

“Sit down, Princess.” He commands softly.

You don’t fight him, you let him guide you down to your seat, and once he’s feeding the fire more wood your hoarse voice finally fills the room.

“I should have gone back to King's Landing…A—He sent me a raven the day after when my grandsire the King died. He didn’t tell me of course, but he told me to go back…I should have listened, I…” you pause to catch your breath. “Maybe then Lucerys…” you trail off and whimper whilst you drop your head in your hands.

Cregan leaves the last piece of wood in the fire and then wipes his hands on his shirt while he stands up to close the gap between you.

“Don't,” he says firmly and crouches down in front of you to grab your hands and pull them down so you can meet his gaze. “Do not blame yourself for your brother's death. What happened is not your fault to carry. What happened is dealt with, don’t dwell on things that can no longer happen.”

You hold his gaze while you process his words for a second and then look down at the ring you still hold.

“I’m sorry,” he says sorrowful words that bring your heart some comfort, but also make your body tremble while those tears that you once couldn’t muster, come rushing down your already stained cheeks.

Nothing else is spoken, and nothing is asked of either of you, but out of instinct your arms slip around his neck, and he returns the embrace and follows you to your feet where he keeps holding you and lets you cry on his shoulder; for hours? For a few seconds? You don’t know, you dwell in his comfort that you missed and relish in it until you stop crying.

He probably should have been the one to pull away, but he doesn’t complain, not once. He lets you pull back on your own time, and even then he grabs your arms to keep you close so he can cup your cheeks and caress them for a final piece of comfort to your aching heart.

Yet that proves to be a mistake because as you linger in his proximity, your eyes fall on his lips and you’re overwhelmed with a passion-filled heat that pushes your lips against his.

At first, Cregan is so stunned by the warmth of your lips on his, and then he’s taken by the excitement of feeling your lips reconnecting that he closes his eyes and kisses you back, but when his lust begins to rush through his blood he pulls back and groans.

“No,” he shakes his head and slides his hands down your face to grab your shoulders, leaving a burning trail down your skin. “You are married. No matter what happened you are still married, and you’re grieving.”

You want to forget your pain for a moment and be consumed by the comfort, bliss, and excitement he provides, but he’s also right. And how can you do that to Aemond…

But…

Maybe you don’t care if it hurts him because he hurt you. He won’t know either way—But you will know, you will know that it’s something that can hurt him, and you…don’t care. But Cregan…is right.

“I’m sorry,” you throw out and step away from him, feeling a chill hit those parts of you that he kept warm with his touch—“you are right. I’m sorry.”

Cregan turns away and swallows back thickly, feeling somewhat disappointed that he has to turn down this heat of the moment. “Perhaps I shall bid you a goodnight now.”

You swallow back to hide your disappointed sigh and nod. “Yes, goodnight Cregan.”

Said man avoids looking at you when he turns. It makes it easier to walk away from you. But when his hand touches the door handle he doesn’t turn it to open it, he stands there frozen with his back turned to you as he feels his honor start to slip.

He turns his head but doesn’t peek over right away, he fights himself but quickly falters when he feels the ghost of your wet lips haunting his. And when he fully looks back and sees the shadow of your sculpted figure in your white nightgown his inner battle is lost. He only proves his loss by locking the door and turning completely to face you, turning around as well.

“Cregan?” You query, puzzled by his presence.

Said man draws out a deep breath before he strides back to you with determination in his step and surprises you by grabbing your face the moment he can. You want to utter his name, but a small gasp is all that goes past your lips whilst you drop the ring that Aemond had gifted you.

“I pride myself in my honor,” he says while his eyes flicker between your parted lips and your shocked gaze. “But when it comes to you it’s turned to ash, nothing stops me from wanting you, from…” he trails off and leans forward, but you don’t allow your lips to touch. You shift your head away, but he follows you to keep your breaths unfurling over each other's lips.

“…desiring you in every way a gentleman shouldn’t. I burn for you when you’re far, and even when I dream of you. It is wrong.” He nods, and you nod too without much effort. “But you are my weakness, you have always been my weakness. You’re my joy, the reason I laugh, and also the reason I don’t march to King's Landing and bring you to Winterfell to make you mine,” he whispers against your lips, making a smile make an appearance on your saddened face.

“Tell me this is wrong, tell me to leave now,” he tells you and drags his eyes up to meet yours so you can know he’s being serious. “And I will. I will leave your chambers and when morning comes I’ll bid you farewell with no remorse and as nothing more than friends.”

As if being hypnotized to his lips you lean forward, but only let your lips brush, leaving your heart pounding as it screams for you to connect.

“I still have to leave,” you make it known while you gently cup his jaw to touch some part of him. “I have to return to Dragonstone no matter what.”

Cregan’s eyebrows pinch together and he hesitates before he nods. “I understand,” he mutters and glances at your lips again. “But that doesn’t change a thing if you tell me to leave.”

You should. You're still married even if Aemond betrayed you by killing your brother. And deep deep down a lot of your conflict comes because you don’t know if you did stop loving the man who killed your brother, but that reason is also why you want to give in to your deepest burning desire.

That reason is why you’re selfish and don’t resist Cregan or stop your heart from swooning at his confession.

“Don’t leave,” is all he needs to hear to smile widely before he finally feeds your desire by kissing you slowly, fueling that passionate heat that completely takes over your body, and leaving you still and breathless for a moment as you relish in the sweet taste of his soft lips melting with yours, guiding your every movement, and driving you mad with lust.

You had forgotten this dream-like feeling, you had forgotten how fast he makes your heart race when he’s kissing you, and you forgot how hot you burn when his fingers explore the perimeters of your body. Furthermore, you forgot how eager he can get until you feel his grip on the back of your gown.

You pull away quickly and protest. “No, no, wait, do not rip it.”

Cregan fingers loosen and you start to giggle. “Why do you always want to rip my gowns?” You bring up, making his lips lift to a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between heavy breaths.

You press a kiss on his lips and then tell him, “gently.”

He breathes out deeply and nods once before he slides his fingers back to the ribbon tying your gown together, and slowly begins to untie it while you drift your lips to kiss the corner of his mouth, and then kiss his jaw before you graze your lips up and kiss the corner of his jaw.

Cregan lets out a groan from the back of his throat, making you feel chills grow on your skin.

“I hate all these layers,” he musters while you continue to leave a trail of kisses down to his neck. “They are so infuriating.”

You smile against his neck, causing you to feel his nails dig in your skin.

“It keeps me warm,” you tell him and lick a stripe up to his lips. “Your North is cold, my Lord.”

Cregan clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “A little less with your presence,” he completely wins you over, making you grin and look at him in awe.

“I missed you,” he finally lets himself confess to you. “My darling love.”

You sigh and whisper back. “I missed you too.”

His eyes gleam brighter and that short absence is filled once again with your lips while he finally slips off your gown, leaving you under a simple sheer gown that he slips off with ease.

“You’re beautiful,” he says with awe, and his eyes dark with lust.

“It’s no fair,” you argue between kisses and slowly drag your hands down to help him pull off his layers. “And you say I wear a lot of layers,” you comment, making him scoff.

You finally end up pulling the last one off and throw it to the side mindlessly as you’re captivated by his toned torso and those thick arms that he unfairly hides under all those garments.

“Kiss me,” you command in a voice oozing with honey.

“Gladly,” is all he says before capturing your face to smash his lips on yours and this time make out more roughly as he’s filled with a much more hungry need.

Your own need lets you multitask by unbuckling his pants and tugging on them so he can pull them off in the brief pause you have between devouring each other. Yet when his member is out for you to see, you take a moment to admire how girthy and hard it is, and how perfect every vein is on his length.

You can’t help but start to go on your knees, but he grabs your bicep and pulls you back up to drift you away from that need.

“No,” he says out of breath and instead wraps his arms around you, and presses his lips on your neck to start leaving wet kisses on your flesh while he also slides his hands down your body, making you shiver at the feeling of his warm hands caressing you gently.

Without lifting his mouth off your neck he drifts his hand behind your knee, and with no explanation, he pulls your leg up to help you climb up and wrap your legs around his waist so he can walk you back to the edge of the bed, and gently put you down.

Once you’re lying on your back he pulls back but leans down to press his hands beside your head, and simply hold your gaze with this endearing look that makes his eyes smile.

“I'm going inside you,” he warns you, making you shiver and swallow thickly as you already imagine the stretch. “You need to be quiet.”

You part your lips but utter nothing, instead, you lift your head and he responds by giving you what you wanted, a deep kiss, while he grabs his length and aligns himself with your hole. When his tip touches you you gasp and he grins before taking your lips again to distract you while he slowly penetrates you.

Albeit the stretch is so wonderful and filling that you claw your nails on his back and scratch his back as he keeps going in deeper. Once all the way inside he finally pulls his face back to whisper. “You were made for me. You belong with me.”

You don’t respond with words, you cup his cheeks and brush strands of his hair behind his ears before you slide your hand to the back of his neck to gently pull him down. “Cregan make me yours,” you finally fill the silence, feeling as if his cock hardens even more before he finally starts moving his hips, filling you with a blinding ecstasy that heightens this passionate moment, and makes you only think about him and the pleasure he feels and gives you. You forget your sorrows and the grudge. You forget the war and the responsibilities you have.

You’re selfish in the lust-filled night and remain ignorant even before it's time to get out of bed. You just relish in Cregan's presence for a bit longer.

“Cregan…” you whisper, and the man hums in response letting you sigh before you share what’s been bothering you. “I do not like that I am the reason you disregard your honor. I do not like putting you through that.”

The hand on your back stops moving and a small huff rolls out of his nose. “I think it’s late to start thinking about that.”

You blink repeatedly with discontent and abruptly sit up to face him. “I am not jesting,” you press sharply. “I’m being serious. You hold your honor in high regard, I hate to be the one who makes it falter.”

A faint smile tugs on his lips without regard to your comment before he leans forward and assures you. “I have my honor, I never forget it, but I love you more. I’m being selfish without disregarding everything to be it. I know how to hold myself back,” he says firmly and cups your cheek to bring you closer to him. “I know where I stand, I am just choosing to have a taste of happiness. You, my darling, are my happiness.”

Your eyes water and your heart swoons, there’s nothing you can say that would measure up to the kind things he just said, all you can do is press a lingering kiss on his warm lips before you lay your head down on his chest, and hold onto him like he’s your security blanket.

“I…could offer you and your Aerion refuge here,” he offers and makes your pounding heart hurt.”

“Here? In Castle Black?” You tease without sounding too amused.

Cregan scoffs and starts to caress your arm. “Not here. In Winterfell,” he clarifies without a hint of falter at the mention of your son who is fathered by someone else who does bring him pangs of jealousy every time he remembers you’re married, and when he hears his name. “I would make sure no one could touch you and your boy there. He wouldn’t have to grow up around so much violence and you would not have to worry.”

You tilt your head down to kiss his shoulder before you give his offer an answer. “It's a nice offer, but my place is not hiding in a cage like some frightened bird. My place is out there, with my mother, with my brother, and the rest of my family fighting with the dragon I have. My mother needs me and I don’t want to leave her alone.”

Cregan doesn’t interject with anything, his chest rises and slowly falls back down, letting you know your response slightly wounded him.

“Instead of having her husband with her when she lost my sister,” you begin to say quieter but filled with frustration. “Daemon was out leading her council. I was the one who held her when she cradled my sister's lifeless body. I…have to be there for her now.”

“I understand,” he doesn’t falter to assure you. “But you must know if you ever find yourself needing somewhere to go, Winterfell is yours. You and your son are welcome.”

You lift your head off him to face him in the little space left between you. “I will always remember that. Thank you,” you say from the bottom of your heart.

A smile twitches on his serious face, and he proceeds to press a feathered kiss on your lips before he grins and says. “Sing for me? Just for me.”

You giggle and gently smack his shoulder. “No,” you answer bluntly and lay back down basically on him.

“Why not?” He chuckles. “It's not like you have to fear enchanting me with your song, you already have.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. Anyway!” You change the subject. “I was supposed to stop writing to you. I had already planned it.”

Cregan sighs and his chin rests on the top of your head. “I know,” he mutters. “You stopped writing as much as you would recently.”

Your smile falls but you grow desperate and hopeful. “But…you will answer me when I write to you in the weeks to come, right?”

He shrugs and interjects. “If that’s what you want, I will.”

You nod softly. “I do.”

You lift yourself up again to face him so he knows you’re being sincere. “I do.”

He grabs your cheek and his eyes soften. “Are you frightened?” He makes sure to ask.

You swallow thickly and shake your head. “No. Nervous, but not scared.”

He smirks and slides his hand down to caress your chin. “That’s my girl. You know how to fight, use that.” He tells you.

You laugh nervously. “I’ve never had to actually use my skill for violence.”

Your swordsmanship and your skills with archery were never for the intent of being some warrior, you like the idea of being like Queen Visenya Targaryen, and Princess Alyssa, but mostly your need to be trained with a sword and with archery was because you took it as a challenge. They said you couldn’t have it and you challenged them. Thus now that you’re having to face this war and the potential of having to use your skill, you’re honestly quite nervous.

You’ve never admitted that. You don’t want to admit it to anyone but him so they don't feel like you aren’t reliable.

“It won’t be easy,” Cregan says the truth. “But when you face your enemy, do not hesitate. Think quickly but be smart and do not let them gain the upper hand. You have a dragon, use her, and you have skill, good skill. Use it.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod in comprehension. He offers you a gentle smile and pulls you down to press his forehead against yours.

“You must know I will wait for you. Just a while longer.”

Asking what will happen after a while passes scares you, so you leave it be and just give him an honest response. “If fate ends up letting me choose, I will finally come home to you.”

He flashes you a charming smile that eases that worry in your heart and only works to sink you further down into this little escape.

“Now,” he coos against your lips. “Will you sing for me?”

You roll your eyes with a flattered smile featured on your face before you pull away to lay back on his chest and finally do as he asks of you as a parting gift where there aren't multiple people watching you, and pushing you down to hide or pretend that you’re nothing more than friends. You sing him a song for only him to hear before you take your leave and face reality once again.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

What good is actually facing reality? Facing a dead beloved brother, and the fact that it was someone who you loved that killed him?

Dragonstone is a painful reminder of what happened while you were away. Only now that pain in your heart is tenfold and you don’t think anyone can actually know the pain that plagues you. Who can truly understand what it is you carry? No one is married to the man who killed Lucerys. They can hate him with ease, but you?

You want to despise him, you fought yourself the entire flight back to Dragonstone to hate him and view him as another enemy, to view him like you view Aegon, but as much as you think you hate him, your heart fights hard to try and tell a different tale. And that’s what makes it worse.

Thus it's easier, it was almost healing, having an escape with Cregan, but now there’s no one who will silence your cries. And what makes matters worse is facing your heartbroken mother. You don’t like seeing her cry or be hurt, when she lost Visenya your pain could never equate to what she was feeling, but you hurt too with every groan, with all the blood that she spilled, and every sob. Now you’re moments away from her and your heart and soul are already shattering.

However, after you watch your dragon disappear into the caves with Vermax, and take a step inside the castle, a hand wraps around your forearm and you’re pulled into a dark dead end where there aren't prying eyes or nearby ears.

“<Tell me the truth,” Jacaerys spats in a whisper so no one would hear the sound of his words also protected by High Valyrian. “About you and Lord Stark.>”

You can’t help yourself, you blink repeatedly in disbelief and gape like a fish out of water.

“< There's no point in lying,” he only further surprises you. “I figured it out when he got the letter from Dragonstone. I would see it every time you would talk but I never pieced it together until yesterday. It all made sense then, the glances, what you would tell each other, and every story you told about him.>”

Tears fill your eyes and your heart echos in your ears as you’re struck with shame. Not for loving another man, but that Jacaerys found out.

“<He touched you?>” He proceeds to ask in your shocked silence.

And it’s in that silence where he figures out your unspoken response and finally lets go of your arm to turn away with a scoff.

“<He never forced himself on me,” you defend Cregan. “Everything we did was because we wanted it to happen. We love each other.>”

Jacaerys turns on his heels with frustration and clutches onto your arms to sneer. “<You saw how much mother suffered because she was with Ser Harwin. Did you not learn anything?>”

You know he’s remarking all that stuff to your face because he cares. He’s being thoughtful in his way but it doesn’t stop you from crying, and when you shed tears you hit a cord in your brother's heart and he lets go of you with a sigh.

“<If you weren’t already married I would turn back and force him, but alas,>,” he mutters and sighs again before turning and dropping his head in his hands.

“<He would’ve too,” you defend his honor. “But I did not want Aemond to hurt him with Vhagar. I choose not to marry him, please don’t blame him. He’s a good man.>”

Jacaerys shakes his head in disappointment and turns to face you with his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare and his lips curled in a snarl. “How am I not supposed to blame him?” He remarks in the common tongue. “He had his way with you and did not do what he was supposed to do! What an honorable man would do!”

“I told you already, I told him not to because of Aemond.”

Jacaerys grabs his face and rubs the bridge of his nose, so you continue to try and calm him down.

“He was always respectful and kind. And…” you pause and lick your lips before you utter the reality. “There’s nothing you can do about it now. There's no use in being upset, I am married and that won’t change even if I love him unless Aemond dies. So please,” you plead softer and step towards him to grab his arm so he can face you. “Please Jace, keep it a secret. No one must know. It’s in the past. Please don’t tell a soul.”

Jacaerys eyes snap to you and he clenches his jaw as he looks at you thoughtfully for a few agonizing moments before he sighs and whispers. “Fine. I will not tell anyone only because there’s nothing I can do now.”

You sigh with relief and wipe away your tears before you offer him a thankful smile and a sweeter comment. “Thank you so much. Thank you, Jace, really. I love you.”

Jacaerys lets out a deep breath and his face slowly lets that frustration go, and instead slowly falls to express a soft sorrow. You slide your hand down his arm to cup his hand and slowly mirror that grief as you remember what you lost and that pain you both now harbor.

No matter how hard you wish, there’s nothing in this world that can change what happened, no one can bring back your fallen brother. And what’s even crueler is that no matter how hopeful you were for the news to be a lie, you’re home now and that hope lies with Lucerys.

You both come to the same realization and speechlessly exchange it, bringing you both into each other's embrace to cry now without care.

And deep down you both want to stay close in just the way you are so neither of you run the risk of losing each other the way you lost Lucerys. It’s a foolish thought, but it’s one brought by grief, and a new fear set in both of your hearts because no matter how much you love your little brothers, nothing can compare to the bond the three of you had. A bond that now consists of Jacaerys and you. Just him and you.

“Jacaerys,” your moment is interrupted by a feminine voice that also speaks your name but does not belong to your mother. And when you both break away and look over you see Baela stand at the end of the hall with her hands clasped together and a pitiful look in her eyes.

“Baela,” you greet and wipe your tears away while Jacaerys turns to wipe his own tears away.

“Welcome back home,” she speaks sweetly.

You offer her a thankful nod before you walk over to her and meet her halfway with an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

You nod and then interject. “Thank you.” You pull back and glance around in search of her twin. “Where’s Rhaena?”

Baela sighs. “In her chambers.”

You wished to greet her just as you returned home, but now you’ll have to speak to her after you speak with your mother.

“And what about…” you trail off and hesitate. “What about my mother?”

Baela glances behind you as Jacaerys approaches you and then gives you the answer you wanted. “I’ll take you to her.”

You offer her a thankful smile and watch her walk to Jacaerys to wrap her arms around him and offer him sweeter condolences. When the moment passes she guides you to your mother and your heart begins to pound, while your stomach twists and makes you feel almost nauseous at the anticipation. You already know you’re going to break even more, but there’s something about thinking about your mother being heartbroken that already tears you apart.

And maybe a part of it is because…it feels like you had a hand in her heartbreak because it was your husband who killed Lucerys.

It was not really you, you know that. You were oblivious to your husband's affairs, but no matter what anyone says, yes, that’s what is dwelling within, your guilt. It rattles you to the point you can’t be comfortable in your own skin.

As you get closer to your mother's quarters breathing gets hard once again, and your surroundings begin to dim, leaving only the narrow path ahead visible. You want to run away and not face the pain you’ll see. But when the doors to your mother's quarters open and you see her sitting across the fireplace, alone and in the dark, that panic settles as if she was the fresh air you needed to calm down, leaving you with the need to be embraced by her warmth and comfort, while also giving the same in return.

“Your Grace,” you greet her softly once Baela clears the room and leaves only you and your brother with your mother.

Your pounding heart starts racing once again, but it’s not out of fear, it’s racing out of a need to ease your pain, and the pain you clearly see on her delicate face. Yet you hold strong with tears stinging in your eyes already.

“Lady Jayne Arryn has pledged her support,” Jacaerys breaks the emotional silence to share the support you both gained when you were away on a mission. “…In exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale,” you hear the tear in your brother's voice, and when you glance over at him you see him fiddling with his hands while his eyes grow more and more teary, making your already weak hold, falter.

You still want to continue for him, but when you part your lips you can’t utter a word, it’s all lost in your grief that heightens the longer you watch your mother.

“And,” Jacaerys continues sounding even more brokenhearted by the second. “Lord Cregan Stark,” he pauses and takes a deep breath, but doesn’t seem to find the will to finish. He falls breathless and that wall he usually has up to be perceived as strong, and a protector crumbles, leaving him shaky.

You reach over to grab his hand while tears start to roll out of your eyes as you trail on for him. “…Lord Stark…promised 2000 men,” you manage to share with all the might you can muster.

Your mother doesn’t respond, she instead stands from her seat with her face contorting with grief and approaches the both of you, making you completely lose the faltering hold you had on your emotions.

However, when she’s close, Jacaerys reaches out first and she welcomes him in her arms. You want to do the same, you’ve been aching for it, but your guilt hits you and you stand there frozen with your head down.

“Mother,” you mewl with streams of tears. “I’m…sorry.”

Your mother pulls away from Jacaerys just slightly, leaving her arm around his neck to approach you and caress your cheek with no disdain in her eyes; nor does she look at you like you were the one at fault, her eyes are sad, but she expresses her reassurance before she slides her arm around your neck and pulls you in her gentle embrace and confirms that she doesn’t hate or blame you.

It’s such a relieving comfort that it works to lift some weight off your chest. Weight Cregan couldn’t ease when he talked to you.

Now you can ease in your mother's embrace without feeling like she hates you. Now you can caress her back without the fear of getting rejected.

Soon thereafter, neither Jacaerys nor you attempt to leave your mother's comfort. Nor does it feel like your mother wants either of you to pull away from her embrace that protects her two eldest from the cruel reality that took her third child.

You stay interlinked and weep on each other's shoulders until she pulls away to face you both.

“I have been waiting for your return to light…Lucerys pyre,” she shares. “Is it fine if we light it tonight? The sun is setting and the winds are calm.”

You and Jacaerys don’t find a reason to push the funeral back. You also know there are other matters to attend to that don't give you the luxury of sitting in your grief.

But, oh wouldn’t that be nice?

You don’t want to ignore what happened, no, that’s not what you want. You just want to take a moment to process what happened, and who did it, and tell yourself that you will no longer see your little brother Lucerys.

But no, war forces you to face reality and deal with your grief harshly on the same night you arrived from Winterfell, and at the same spot where your baby sister's funeral pyre was lit.

This time the crowd is smaller though, more intimate. Daemon isn’t even here, which isn’t surprising, but it is also disappointing that he can’t be at his wife’s side as she deals with the death of her son, and lights yet another funeral pyre. And what grows your hatred for him even more is that he can’t seem to be bothered to be a father to his daughter who just lost her betrothed. It’s a good thing Baela is at her side.

It’s also good that you can be with your family this time, dealing with your father's grief alone was devastating. There was no one besides your handmaiden Vanessa to hold your hand and embrace you when you wept. Comforting letters could never measure up to the comfort of your mother's arms or that of your siblings and your grandparents.

Now though, you stand amongst them around the fire that will burn away the only pieces you have of Lucerys, which are his things. There's not even bones to turn to ash, nothing was found of him but his cloak, and a part of his dragon's wing.

Thus Jacaerys steps up first and throws in a soft red blanket along with a piece of his clothes. Besides a few tears rolling down his face, he holds strong now, unlike before when he was in the privacy of just you and your mother, which is assuring. He definitely seems to comfort Joffrey, who throws a wooden horse in the fire, leaving you to step up next.

Yet when you step up and lift a small wooden ship you sob for the brother you’ll never be able to see grow into a man. You’ll never be able to see him marry, or see him command his fleets. You’ll never be able to watch him build a family of his own, nor will you be able to dance another song with him, he’ll be gone forever.

You throw away all those possibilities you’ll never get to see in the fire, and watch the flames eat away at the small wooden ship, and turn to ash everything you couldn’t watch your brother do.

Thick smoke rises, it infiltrates through your nose and stings your throat and eyes while also helping you realize something through the stinging pain, that being your hate for Aemond, your husband, and best friend. You were clouded with confusion before, you couldn’t let go, but you see it clearly now in the thick smoke, you hate him.

And it’s because of your realization that you don’t realize your mother is next to you until you catch her throwing in a piece of Lucery’s clothes with agony contorting her face and clouding her eyes. She lingers by the fire for a moment and you watch her shoulders shake before she steps back. You fall by her side and glance down at her empty hand before you reach over to grab it and once again be the comfort she needs in her moment of pain.

A need to go to Rhaena’s side does grow. You feel called to her side to comfort her, but once the fire starts to lose its power, and all the wooden logs turn black, you step away from your brother and mother's side, but come to a stop right away as you feel guilt again. Your mother might’ve speechlessly assured you, but Rhaena’s anger and grief is different, what if she does blame you for what Aemond did?

If you weren’t away you probably could’ve stopped Aemond, but you weren’t with him. What if she blames you for Aemond taking her betrothed?

You don’t want to be the source of more pain for your cousin, so out of fear and guilt, you don’t approach her. You avoid her and instead, let your grandfather give his condolences before embracing your grandmother.

“I heard the Queen made you her hand,” you interject and pull back to face her with a proud smile. “Congratulations, grandmother, I could think of no one more capable than you.”

Your grandmother caresses your face and offers you a sweet and thankful smile. “Thank you, my Sweet. How are you doing?” She asks with a concerned gaze.

You sigh. “I’m dealing with all my emotions, but I’m relieved that I at least don’t have to go through my grief alone this time,” you share, earning a faint smile.

“I was wondering…” you roll out hesitantly whilst you hook your arm around his to head back inside together. “…does anyone accompany you on your patrols?”

Without needing to hear the rest of what you wanted to ask, she figures out the direction you're taking this conversation.

“No,” your grandmother assures you.

“Oh, well I was wondering,” you finally get to your question. “If I could accompany you? The sea is large, together we could cover more ground. Besides,” you sweet talk her to persuade her. “Astraea is fast, and she’s grown large from her time at Winterfell. She’s good at sea. She likes to dive with me on her. And I am a good archer on Dragonback. We could help you.”

Your grandmother scoffs and flashes you a smile. “Well as much as I would like your help, we would have to ask the Queen first. Bring it up with her and if she accepts I would love to share patrol with you, it would relieve me of some work.”

You smile excitedly and nod eagerly. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll ask her at the next council meeting.”

Your grandmother offers you an encouraging smile and helps you feel some joy in the dark storm that casts over you.

Of course, no one or nothing brings you more joy than your little one, your beloved Aerion. When you see him fast asleep in his cradle your dim world lights up and you muster a happy grin.

As much as you want him to wake so he knows you’ve returned to him, you let him be and just crouch by the cradle to admire him as he sleeps.

You admire his cute round cheeks, his tiny little hands balled up to fists over his head, his thin eyelashes he got from his father, and those pink thin lips he also got from

Aemond. But most importantly you watch his chest carefully to make sure he’s breathing.

You could watch him sleep for hours on end and never tire. Especially because sometimes, just like now, you catch him smiling in his sleep and you just can’t help but swoon.

You always wondered what it is they dream about, fairytales mayhaps? Food? Their parents?

Does he dream about his father now that they’re apart? A father who loves him, and takes pride in his son? A father that you hate and…cheated on…

He killed your little brother, and you lay with Cregan because you wanted to, because you missed him, and you were upset and selfish, but now that you’re looking at your son sleeping away a different pang of guilt punctures your heart.

A guilt you shouldn’t feel, Aerion is young, he won't remember this conflict, but he will feel shame if he ever finds out you cheated on his father.

Yes, his father hurt you first, Aemond betrayed you first. He hurt you in one the worst ways possible! But…now…

Now you’re looking at Aerion and you think of how this could also hurt him. He’s young, a baby turning five months old soon, he won’t remember his life as an infant, but your secret won’t be forgotten, especially if in the future Cregan and you aren’t together.

It would hurt him so much if he ever found out. That’s what makes you cry with guilt. Not regret, you don’t regret your night with Cregan, he made you happy, but you do feel guilt and shame.

——

*THE NEXT MORNING*

Does Aemond’s crime justify what you did?

You can’t help but think of that, you can’t help but think of the hate you harbor, but you also can’t stop thinking about him. About the way his family doesn’t show him the affection you do. He protects them and takes care of them, but they will never return it in the same amount.

He’s probably lonely, and brooding. He’s probably silently just lurking in his brother's council, and breaking his fasts alone.

You always tried breaking fast and eating dinners together. He always smiled when he saw the way you were dressed, especially when you wore purple. He always gave you a kiss before you drifted apart for the day, and when you saw each other he kissed you with need as if you had gone years without seeing each other.

When night came, or when you found yourselves just in a calm moment, he let his guard down and let himself be vulnerable. You loved those moments the most because it felt as if only he and you existed in this world.

Actually, he treated you like you were the only person he has ever loved. You came first all the time, even before your son. Which is selfish, but you never minded because who could treat you the same?

Cregan’s people come first, the North comes first no matter what he says. That’s why he’s not marching over here to fight himself because other priorities come first, but with Aemond, he may have his goals and his pride, but you were never held lesser than something. His anger got in the way. It’s blinding but you understand why.

You understood at least…because the truth is you can’t defend him now…

He deserves his solitude. You hate him for taking Lucerys away. That much is true and you put that over everything.

“Princess,” Vanessa’s sweet voice cuts through the blowing breeze of the sea, making you pick your eyes off your son to look into the distance.

“Vanessa,” you entertain your handmaiden with what you know she’s leading up to.

“I was wondering,” she parts her lips, but before she can finish her thought the sound of your name coming from someone else’s lips interrupts the conversation. You look back and smile faintly when you see your grandfather Corlys.

“Grandfather,” you greet sweetly as you stand up to watch him approach you at shore.

“I’m surprised to see you out here so early,” he mentions, making you scoff softly and look down at Aerion watching your grandfather carefully.

“When I saw Aerion he was sleeping, so I wanted to make up for it and spend as much time as I can before I’m called away,” you tell him and study him, noticing he’s standing up a lot straighter than before, and still using a very nice wooden cane. “I wanted to apologize for not going to visit you when you were abed. I’m more than glad to see you up now and attending to your fleet.” You smile brightly and watch him get close to watch Aerion in your arms.

“It's quite all right,” he assures you and meets your gaze. “You are a dragon rider, and the Queen's daughter, there’s a lot to do. I'm happy to see you safely returned, I know Aerion has missed you.”

You glance at your son, and as if he knew you were admiring him he glances at you and smiles before laying his head on your shoulder.

“Rhaenys and I would take him on strolls when the day gave us time,” your grandfather catches you by surprise. “The poor lad would be cooped all day with your mother gone.”

Considering Aerion the son of Aemond, you didn’t think your grandparents, especially your grandfather would much care for your son, but hearing his report really brings a warmth to your heart.

“I noticed that young Aerion quite enjoys being by the water,” your grandfather adds, making you grin and nod.

“Yes, he loves it when the waves roll over his feet,” you share giddily and caress your son's head as you return your gaze to your grandfather. “And he gets lulled to sleep by the sound of crashing waves.”

“He’ll be a fine sailor in no time.”

You hum happily at your grandfather's comment and then watch him glance out at the never-ending sea before he sighs softly, and then looks back at you with a faint smile that lets you catch a look in his eye that makes you think he’s up to something.

“Why don’t you and Aerion accompany me to Driftmark? It’s still early, and you can come back by dragonback before you’re needed,” he suggests.

You have been meaning to keep your mind off all the racing thoughts that kept you up at night, and well, you are extremely curious. It’s not common for him to invite you to accompany him anywhere. That’s what your grandmother does.

“Vanessa,” you address your handmaiden, and give your grandfather an answer. “Return inside, if anyone asks for me tell them where I am and that I will return soon.”

Your handmaiden offers you a comprehensive nod and goes off to do as you asked, letting you walk with your grandfather toward his boat under the morning sky pampered with fluffy white clouds that make you feel a smidge of joy as certain memories infiltrate your mind.

“On nice days like these my father would take me sailing,” you muse with your grandfather. “I’m pretty sure the septa giving me lessons would despise when he would pull me from my lessons since I was a princess and had no business doing boy stuff, but,” you grin softly. “He was the prince consort, he did as he pleased and my mother never minded. Besides, I encouraged him,” you pause and feel your eyes begin to sting without much warning.

“He taught me a lot of ships…I miss him,” you finish in a whisper.

Your grandfather lets out a deep sigh and you see him nod along with you from the corner of your eye.

“Did he teach you how to read maps?” Your grandfather wonders.

You nod. “Yes, and star charts. I could learn more about those, but I could follow the stars North and to King’s Landing with no map. He…never tried to leave anything out, he was always so excited.”

Your grandfather hums and you glance over at him to address something else on your chest. “I’m glad you decided to side your fleet and Driftmark with my mother.”

His dark eyes meet yours and he quirks a brow. “Why would I side with Aegon?”

Well besides him being a man, there’s also the fact that it’s highly theorized Daemon killed his son. You believe and hate him for it, but no matter how much you want to share that belief, you bite your tongue and shrug as if it was just a concerned-filled thought.

Your grandfather understands your speechless response and holds your gaze as he gives his vague response. “I had many reasons to side with your mother.”

You offer him a simple proud smile and reach his boat in a peaceful silence only filled by the crashing waves and the cawing of seabirds. You had hoped to feel a hint of those exciting and tender feelings you oftentimes felt with your father when you were out at sea, but even if you walk with his father, those feelings you ache to reconnect to aren’t anywhere close, reminding you that you’ll never be with your father ever again, or have a bond with any father-figure.

Albeit your grandfather does let you sail the boat to Driftmark, but as excited you do feel to show off your skills and once again maneuver a boat, you still feel empty within.

“My dragon loves the sea,” you begin to say with the intention of persuading him to use your aid at sea whilst you keep an eye on the distant waters. “And I have learned how to use a bow and arrow on dragonback, perhaps I could be the dragon rider to protect your fleet when battle hits our shores, or we attack theirs,” you finish and peer back at him with a sly grin, unknowingly reminding him of his son when he was your age and eager to prove his worth. You even wore the same sly smile Laenor wore when he was proving himself a fine sailor and dragonrider.

“That…” he starts off quietly but then clears his throat and sounds as mighty as ever. “That would honor me.”

You offer him a happy smile over your shoulder and then let your gaze fall on Aerion strapped on your chest, noticing him watching the waves with his eyes wide and full of wonder.

However, the wonder slowly gets lost as he starts to get lulled to sleep. He tries to fight the sleep to keep watching the moving waves, but he’s outmatched and loses himself to sleep not long before you arrive at Driftmark’s shore.

Unlike Dragonstone, Driftmark is more lively with people; both townspeople and soldiers from the fleets as well as those who work on your grandfather's massive ship. Some seem worried that something could happen at any given moment, while others seem to be happy just mindlessly living.

You begin to wonder about that happiness, you don’t envy their joy, a part of you resents all these people being so happy and living their lives unaffected by the death of Driftmark’s Heir. You wonder why it is they don’t feel what you’re plagued with, you want them to feel your sorrow.

But then you do realize that you’re just letting your pain cloud your judgment.

“Besides having you accompany me,” your grandfather interjects, pulling your attention away from the large ship. “I wanted to share something I have been thinking of as of late.”

You clasp your hands together and out of instinct reach out to fiddle with the ring Aemond gave you, but you’re then surprised when you feel that your ringer finger is bare.

You spare a glance at your finger and drift your gaze to the ground, but you’re then reminded of the fact that you left your ring behind in your borrowed quarters at Castle Black.

You probably won’t ever see it again…

“…I was hoping that when Aerion is older he could be my ward,” your grandfather catches your attention and makes you furrow your eyebrows and look at him with disbelief, and slightly bothered.

“Of course,” he continues, “he won’t have to join me until he’s much older, but he is Laenor’s grandson, I want him to know the sea, and I want to teach him about ships and how to command fleets like I taught your father.”

You glance at your sleeping son and cradle the back of his head as if protecting him from being parted from you.

“He’s the son of a second son, he won’t inherit a crown or a castle from his father, but he could inherit…my title.”

You snap your eyes over to him and come to a slow stop as you’re overcome with surprise. You want to be filled with pride and joy, but there’s an obstacle that stops you. “But,” you mutter your thought out loud. “He is Aemond’s son. A man who opposes us. A man who killed your heir.”

Your grandfather turns away from his ship and faces you, and doesn’t fail to nod in agreement. “Aye, he is the son of Prince Aemond, but Aerion has salt-littered blood. He is the grandson of Laenor Velaryon, my son.”

Aerion is also your son, and you are also your father's firstborn, and only biological child, but he doesn’t seem to ever mention that! What are you, a painted portrait?

You would’ve loved to inherit Driftmark and his title of Lord of the Tides, but no!

You would ask about Rhaena getting that chance before Aerion since she is the daughter of his only daughter, but you don’t see that having a good answer, so you don’t even waste your breath.

“What of Joffrey?” You bring up. “He should be your heir.”

Your grandfather sighs and nods stiffly but quickly counters you. “Perhaps, but I want it to be Aerion. The grandson of my son.”

It’s not hard to realize the actual truth behind his response; Joffrey is the bastard son of your father. With Lucerys gone, he can actually name an actual Velaryon his heir. It doesn’t seem fair, your father loved your brothers whether they were his or not, but who are you to deny Aerion of a fruitful future?

He comes first now, and it doesn’t seem like your grandfather is actually asking your permission or for your actual thoughts, his mind seems mind up, so with a deep breath and a hesitant smile you accept what he brings up. “That…would make me happy. And I’m sure it would’ve made my father happy.”

Your grandfather offers you a smile and surprises you by patting your shoulder as an endearing gesture that brings a…silence where you smile faintly out of pride, but you can’t help but think what next. You’ve never actually spent so much time with your grandfather, and if you do your grandmother has always been with you.

“Why don’t you show your knowledge on the ship,” your grandfather luckily drifts the attention over.

However, just as you approach the plank resting on the dock, he stops you by grabbing your shoulder and interjecting loudly. “Alyn!”

You follow his gaze and blink repeatedly in surprise when you see the same Addam of Hull who fought in your engagement tourney.

When the man’s eyes fall on you beside your grandfather his lips part in surprise, but when he reaches you he closes his mouth and bows his head. “Princess,” he greets you properly right away.

“Ser,” you greet him quite excitedly.

“Good,” your grandfather cuts in and steps back. “You remember each other.”

You drift your gaze to your grandfather and express your confusion with knitted eyebrows that he helps ease with a quick response. “I sent him to check on you for me when I was fighting in the Step Stones.”

Instead of going to you himself?

Whatever.

“Really?” You ask with more surprise. “Well thank you, he was a very excellent jouster who brought Driftmark and me great pride.”

Alyn offers you a stiff smile and bows his head as a thank you.

“Good, I’m glad to hear he can’t show his skill,” your grandfather fills the man’s silence. “Why don’t I let you get reacquainted.”

Without room to argue he walks away and leaves you alone with Ser Alyn—or is it just Alyn since it was your grandfather who sent him?

“Seeing you again makes this world feel small. I never thought our paths would cross again,” you fill the silence to avoid awkward silences.

“In truth neither did I,” he admits. “But it is an honor.”

You offer him a smile and notice how much more muscular he is now compared to before. He’s also a lot more serious too.

“Who—”

“Alyn!”

You both turn your attention to the caller, and you see a tall and thin man with long dreadlocks approaching with a bright and charming grin that immediately works to intrigue you.

Albeit when he notices your unique white hair, your long and elegant red gown finer than any material he’s touched; accompanied with shiny gold jewelry on your hands and neck, he realizes that you are no ordinary woman. The man’s grin slowly disappears at the realization and he slows down towards Alyn. Once he’s finally nearby he straightens up and doesn’t fail to bow when he joins you and Alyn.

“My Princess,” the mystery man greets you with a nervous but charming smile that actually serves to completely get rid of any tension or awkward atmosphere he could’ve brought.

“Princess,” Alyn interjects and looks at the man in blue beside him. “This is my brother Addam. Addam, this is the Princess, granddaughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon.”

You and Addam meet each other's gaze and that snobby princess Addam already imagined you’d be upon laying eyes on you completely falls apart when you offer him a bright smile in return. You perhaps are one of the most majestic beauties he’s ever laid his eyes on, he can’t help but think. Even from afar you were luminous and almost like an illusion, but from up close he could see your beauty was no illusion, he could see a sadness in your eyes, but so much more that intrigued him.

You give him your name and Addam’s eyes proceed to fall on the sleeping infant strapped on your chest. “Who is this?”

You cradle your baby's head and introduce him to Addam and Alyn. “This is my son, Aerion Targaryen.”

“Hm, not one to care about first impressions I see,” Addam throws out boldly, making his brother shoot him a warning glare. You, however, laugh genuinely in return, which is something that surprises even you. You didn’t think you could ever laugh the way you just did again.

“He takes after his father,” you mirror his humor.

“Well, we’ll let this lad get away with it this time.”

You scoff and nod. “I’ll make sure he’s more prepared next time,” you remark lightheartedly.

He hums and glances over at his brother. “Could I ask how you met?”

“At a tourney,” you answer for Alyn. “Last year. Apparently, he was sent by my grandfather.”

“Tourney?” Addam asks as if it’s the first time hearing of it. “Aren’t you supposed to be a knight?”

“Actually I was trying to get to that too,” you share and both wait for a response from the serious man.

“Well I was surprised to see what money could buy,” he remarks. “I was deceitful when I entered. I am no knight.”

You hum and ease his growing worry right away by assuring him. “Well, I would say you were actually quite entertaining and impressive. You fought well and won.”

Addam pats his brother's back and whispers, “I’m proud of you.”

You watch Addam offer his brother a very faint smile and you can’t help but remember the grief you had pushed aside as you remember the brother you lost.

“I was hoping to have some early brunch with my brother,” Addam now directs at you. “But it seems insignificant now that you have graced us with your presence.”

You can't help but smile with amusement and feel slightly flattered. Addam is surely more outgoing than his brother in a way that doesn’t fail to catch your interest and actually helps bring attention to his fierce spirit that you can’t help but feel the need to get to know.

Actually meeting him makes you feel like you found something you had been in search of your whole life.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- romantic or platonic? (For those who have read moonlight before already know but please don’t spoil it for the rest heheh :)

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638

[ramonag-if]

Chapter Ten Update - Crown of Exile

The full Chapter Ten is now available to play. If you wanted to play the full chapter, now you can by joining my Patreon.

Release Dates:

Ishari Tier: 29 November 2024

Vinia Tier: 2 December 2024

Cyre Tier:  6 December 2024

Nomad Tier: 13 December 2024

New to the chapter:

Return to Ishari from the Nomad Tribes or Vinia,

Learn about the outcomes of the path you didn't take,

Uncover some unsettling news about King Erlan,

Plot a path to Cyre,

Speak to one of the four ROs/companions.

The full chapter is around +/- 100K in length, with around 50-60K per playthrough and the full game now stands around 900K.

By joining any of the tiers, you'll get access to sneak peeks, polls, bonus stories (Cyre and up) and early access to the new chapters and content. Work has commenced on Chapter Eleven, and with only 2 chapters and an epilogue to go, the game is slowly nearing its completion.

If you can't wait for the full game, consider becoming a Patron.

[manga-meow]

[humanityinahandbag]

Oh heeeeey, folks! @samthefrank and I thought the weekend would be a little sweeter if it included a crazy family, an emo hedgehog, and an ex henchman arguing with his House. 

Enjoy!

[snowfires]

SINCE WE’RE TALKING ABOUT WHAT IFS.. Kinda curious how it woulda gone if it were one of the other Bad Sanses that Reader healed instead of Killer! I have a feeling Cross will be one of the nicer ones and maybe Dust as the most hostile?

Ahh I’ve been waiting to answer this ask! I wanted to cover the events up to and including chapter 10 for this.

Major spoilers for chapter 10 under the cut! Go read that first.

Dust:

Having a human walk in when he is severely injured would incite a violent reaction in Dust. He’d lunge at you, trying to use the last of his strength to summon bones and kill you. You would have to wait until he knocked himself out to heal him.

Of course, seeing how dangerous he was, you wouldn’t heal him completely as you had for Killer. Instead, you’d heal him only enough so he would live before leaving.

Months later, when the Bad Sanses come for you and you flee to find Muffet, Dust recognizes you. He’s still aggressive—you are the enemy. But… he doesn’t choke you. Doesn’t play. Dust completes the mission as ordered, delivering you to Nightmare in his own arms. While he is still aggressive with you afterwards, it doesn’t take nearly as long for Dust to start liking you.

Horror:

Horror is the only member of the MTT that wouldn’t instantly attack you. You aren’t underground, so this is probably a pacifist timeline. Allowing you to approach is okay. You heal him completely and, like with Killer, end up passing out. While Killer was initially fascinated by your sacrificial healing, Horror is endeared to it right away. He stays with you until you rouse and insists on bringing you home.

When you hear his name, you’re overcome with fear, something that Horror takes note of. Of course, if you’ve travelled the multiverse you would have heard the rumours. He leaves you alone for a while, but when Cross ends up hurt around the time chapter five takes place, he brings the soldier to get fixed up by you.

Afterwards, Horror begins to visit more often, but not nearly as much as Killer. He slowly breaks down your walls, and you’re able to start liking him for who he is now, rather than fear his actions in the past. His crush on you isn’t something Horror will act on, not without you having met Dust first, but he’s a patient monster. He can bring you into their family eventually, convince Dust that you’d be good at their side.

When he and Cross find you in the alleyway, Horror is angry. You must have known the entire time and declined to tell him. How much had he told you about his family that you could use against them on behalf of the Stars?

Muffet helps you escape, and like in the fic itself, Killer captures you. But Horror takes a long time before he visits you in the dungeon. Eventually, he realizes how little you knew, and regains his affections for you.

Cross:

Fun fact about Cross—he’s only been in the gang five years and is still learning the complicated process of shortcutting between AUs. In this scenario, Cross would be so injured he jumps randomly, hoping to go back home but landing in an unknown world.

He is an absolute mess when a beautiful woman comes to heal him and hurts herself for him. He insists on taking you home himself.

The only problem is… he is stuck. With no way to call the others, because Cross hates phones and doesn’t bring them on missions. You offer him to stay at your home (which freaks him out), and the two of you end up living together for a whole month before the other’s find him. Why did it take them so long? Because Cross is in absolute bliss, rarely feeling anything negative. By the time they do find him, you’ve already started dating.

Cross leaves without telling you. That kind of life… it isn’t good for you.

He caves and comes back two weeks later, assisted by Killer. You continue your relationship (with Killer also starting to fall for you). When Nightmare sends them to find Dream’s healer, and Cross finds you in the alleyway, he realizes what’s happened. Unlike all of the others though, he doesn’t believe for a moment that you did this on purpose. Dream left you in the dark. This is his fault. He tries to help you leave, but you are ultimately caught by Nightmare.

Safe to say, Cross has a lot of explaining to do when they get home.

Nightmare:

Nightmare rarely gets injured. As mentioned in chapter ten, his corruption pieces him together after any attacks other than those from Dream. You find him in the woods, writhing in pain, and though it takes you a while to figure out how to heal his wounds, you eventually do.

Nightmare is… surprised. You must have a significant amount of power to be able to heal his wounds. He too returns you to your home, delighting in your collection of magical encyclopedias. He can bring you more. Teach you how to really use those powers.

Unfortunately, gaining favour from an eldritch being is not always a good thing. He starts to dump his boys in your apartment whenever they’re injured for you to heal, testing the limits of your abilities. His plan to take you in as their personal healer is solidified when Killer and Horror begin to like you.

The problem arises when he brings Cross to you. Unlike the MTT, Cross exclusively refers to Nightmare with his actual name. You realize just who you’ve been helping, assume Nightmare also knew this entire time, and are terrified.

Your fear and the weird behaviour that follows is all Nightmare needs to realize who you are. But of course, you didn’t know who he was all this time. He’s never sensed deceit from you. Perhaps there is a chance yet that you become their healer. He acts as if nothing has happened, insisting on spending more time together. He picks apart every assumption you ever had about who he is until you trust him again.

By the time Dream realizes who you’re spending time with, it’s too late. Nightmare has taken you from this AU.

What he wouldn’t know, however, is just how willingly you went with him.

Error:

No thanks. Absolutely not. Error does not want anyone touching him when he’s injured, let alone Ink’s anomaly. Any attempts to help him end with you wrapped up in his strings and booted to the Doodleverse for Ink to find. He’ll fix himself up on his own.