#He's going to Kill the Dragon with his very last breath and he will go through You to do so no matter what you do

[milder-manners]

one thing I noticed when watching 3 hunters to 4 hunters to 5 hunters, is the progression of Dream's persona as the hunted.

In 3 hunters, Dream freely played up the theatrics of the underdog. He used the iconic "Leave me alone!" line, and remarked with open fear when the Hunters caught him off guard during the chase.

In 5 hunters, Dream barely revealed any weakness ever to the hunters. Whenever the hunters duped him or gained an advantage, he reacted more with frustration and outrage or not reacted at all.

It's just interesting to see how with the additional hunters, Dream couldn't afford to show fear anymore, so his persona evolved to be as menacing as possible to the hunters

[dunmesh]

okay but did you think about the fact laios already feels responsible for taking her last breath... this story started with falin sacrificing her life for him, dying in front of his eyes- so that "worst case scenario" already happened. at the beginning he thought all he had to do to fix things is simply bring her back to life like they had done before, but then it was his decision that led her to a fate arguably even worse than death; a reality where the very reason he wanted to save her was erased from her mind, with her becoming a chimera puppet. a reality where he is forced to fight a monster in the form of his sister.

for that reason, his choice to kill falin on his own isn't about saving everyone else from the horror of this "possible" outcome as much as it is him finally facing his own guilt for all he had done: from abandoning her during their childhood to bringing her with him to the island and living a life of hunger and danger at the cost of the safe future she could've had without him, eventually resulting in her dying while being all alone. but unlike his choice to leave their village, this time she was the one forcing him to leave her behind- an act that was not only done out of pure love but was also the result of a lifetime of internalizing the notion that everyone she loves always takes priority over herself.

so when it came to that point in chapter 67, killing her was his way of not abandoning her anymore. taking her last breath to carry alone, so he can never let go of her again. even if they wouldn't have succeeded in resurrecting her, then at least he gave her one last precious memory, at least he didn't let her sleep starving again- which is in direct contrast with her death at the beginning of the series that was caused by their hunger and its effects. but more, or perhaps even most importantly, at least he didn't let her die alone this time- having her most beloved person experiencing the horrors of her death with her while her dear friends are witnessing her suffering that she was trying so hard to shield them from until now.

and in those moments, it was without a doubt falin struggling against him along with the dragon. because of her brother forcing her to make a choice once more, she finally revealed her most raw, selfish and intrinsic side by fighting him back, scratching and pushing and screaming and harming the person she always put first instead of quietly giving up her own life. dying by the hands of love instead of dying for love. in choosing herself this time, it might be what gave her soul the strength to choose living by the end of the series- living a life of her own. and for laios, this was just as essential to his personal growth as well as the first step in his atonement: redoing it "the right way".

[starogeorgina]

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.01

“His heart beats for blood. Blood and fire.”

Jacaerys stares at his betrothed from across the room, watching as she mumbles to herself while flicking through the same book he’s seen her read many times, her heavy-looking eyes often fixated on the same page for a long period of time. He was informed the library and Sept were the only places she would visit outside her private chambers since Aemond killed his brother.

The last time Jace’s family were all together, in King’s landing, King Viserys declared his youngest daughter and eldest grandson were to be wed, with the intention of mending the rift between House Targaryen once and for all.

But that wasn’t what happened.

His betrothed was visibly happy and very vocal about how excited she was to start planning the wedding with his mother. Then his grandsire died, his mother’s throne was usurped, and his unborn sister died. Since returning from Winterfell Jacaerys, the princess hasn’t even glanced in his direction; she was avoiding him, which stung. Jace had never felt so alone; he always had Lucerys by his side before. Perhaps the princess was hiding herself away out of fear of being treated badly for what her brothers, mother, and grandsire had done to his family.

Not that he thought of her any differently; if anything, the young prince pitted her.

Jacaerys watches her for a few moments longer then decides it’s best to leave the princess be; no point in disturbing someone who is seeking isolation.

—

You stop making alterations to the tunic you were embroidering when you hear the door to the chambers you were currently occupying being opened; without looking back, you know who it is. When the footsteps don’t go any further than the doorway, you start threading the needle again.

Every corner you turn, you feel dark eyes burning a hole into you. Nothing that you could say would undo the pain inflicted already. Your mind begins to wonder again, and you don’t notice Jace moving until he’s sitting next to you at the wooden desk. He was looking directly at you, but you avoided meeting his gaze.

“My Prince.”

He takes a sharp intake of breath, “I hold no ill will towards you.”

The funeral for Lucerys was held earlier that day, just before the sun began to set. You watched from afar as Rhaenyra crumpled to pieces, and the rest of her family sobbed, mourning the loss of such a sweet boy. It would have been wrong for you to join them when someone you cared for dearly caused them so much pain.

“How can you not? My twin is the reason you won’t get to see Luke again.”

Jacaerys says nothing to your response. What could he say? You sit in silence, watching Jace’s finger trace over the outline of a dragon on the tunic. “It’s unfinished; it was meant to be a gift for after the wedding.”

A small smile pulls on his lips. “It’s Vermax.”

Regardless of the awful things that had happened, you wanted to remain on Dragonstone but doubted you’d be able to stay long. You were nothing but a reminder of what Aemond had done.

“What’s on your mind?”

You finally looked up and met his eyes, which are glossy from holding back tears. In comparison, your own issues seem minuscule, but you share what’s bothering you anyway. “I don’t want to go back home.”

“This is your home.”

“I’m afraid.”

Giving you a sympathetic look, Jace uses the pad of his thumb to rub circles on the back of your hand. Comforting touches weren’t something you were familiar with, but you liked the warmth coming from his hand.

“You’re safe inside these walls. I won’t let anybody come in here and hurt you.”

“I’m afraid of Dae—”

You’re cut off when there’s a knock at the door and Rhaenyra’s handmaiden, Elinda, walks into the room. You expected Jace to remove his thumb, but instead he squeezed your hand.

Elinda greets you both, “Princess, the queen wishes to speak with you.”

—

Staring into Rhaenyra's eyes was like staring down a dragon. Her fury was evident the moment you entered her quarters; you had seen Daemon storming in the opposite direction and presumed he had something to do with the queen's foul mood. You were thankful when she went to stand by the window.

“I believe my son was in your bedchamber when I sent for you. Is that correct?”

“No, I mean—“ you begin to stumble over your words. “Yes, he was there, Prince Jacaerys came to speak with me.”

“Nothing that could have waited until the morrow, I’m sure.”

Her expression was hard to read. Although she didn’t say anything else, you felt the need to explain further. “I told him I didn’t want to go back to King's Landing, and he told me this was my home. He said, I'm safe here.”

“Why would you believe any differently?”

“Nowhere is safe.”

Rhaenyra uncrosses her arms, her expression softening. “Nobody under my rule will harm you, but I must share this with you.”

Elinda hands you a scroll. Confused, you take it from her, “I don’t understand why someone would write to me.”

You open it nervously and read it. Your lips parted slightly; Rhaenyra asks what it says, but you’re unable to answer her. Elinda looks at it and lets out a small gasp, “It’s from Aegon. He’s demanding the princess return to King’s Landing at once.”

You take the scroll and toss it into the fireplace. “It may have my brother’s signature, but that is my grandsire and mother talking.”

“Elinda, leave us for a moment.” Rhaenyra lets out a frustrated sigh. When it’s just the two of you, she asks, “Do you wish to stay here, on Dragonstone?”

“Yes,” you say, taking a step towards her. “I understand if you want me to leave, but please don’t make me go back to them.”

Seeing the desperation in your eyes, she nods. “We may not be close, but you are my youngest sister. I know you are innocent.”

“I miss Helaena and her sweet children.” You begin to sob, “I was so quick to leave with you for Dragonstone that I never went and saw father before I left. I never said goodbye to him.”

“Neither of us knew what would happen.” Rhaenyra caresses your cheek in a motherly manner. “Jacaerys is right, you are safe here.”

—

Dragonstone was much darker and colder than what you were used to; your hair always feels damp even when it’s dry. You found the sounds of waves crashing around the island comforting.

But not as comforting as being held by Jacaerys.

You expected the prince to have returned to his own quarters, but he was waiting on you to return. You were sitting on the edge of the table with your legs dangling over the edge, Jacaerys forehead pressed against your own while he held you close.

The both of you were lonely, hurt, and scared.

“Won’t you get in trouble for being here so late?”

“We will be married soon,” Jacaerys says, stepping back. “Will we share a room when we are married?”

“I was told that women only lay with their husbands for a couple of nights a month, but everyone who I know who does it seems unhappy. Would you want us to always share a bedchamber?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, you peck him on the lips. “Sorry, that was inappropriate of me.”

“It’s okay.” He closes his eyes. “I hope the war ends soon so my mother can sit on her throne, and you can be my wife.”

You chuckle slightly. “As happy as I am to be your wife, I’m scared for our wedding night. My mother told me sex is painful for a woman.”

“It’s not always.”

“Wait, have you...” You don’t finish the question; the thought of him bedding someone else made you feel sick.

“No, but my stepfather is Daemon Targaryen,” he chuckles. “He always told me it was important for everyone involved to feel pleasure.”

“I was just told to grip the sheets while waiting for it to be over and that only men feel good.”

Jace’s lips ghost your own, his breath warm on your face. “Have you ever felt pleasure before?”

“Yes… kind of, have you.”

Jacaerys cheeks flush red as he nods.

“I touched myself once, but I didn’t put my fingers inside.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a sin for a woman to touch themselves for desire. I went to the sept immediately afterwards and didn’t do it again.”

“Sweet girl,” Jace kisses your cheek. “I’ll never touch you anymore than you want me to.”

You hug again, but this time Jace’s head is pressed against the side of your neck. You still like that in a comfortable silence until you feel him lightly kissing your neck. He pauses waiting for your reaction; a moan slips from your mouth, and you tighten your grip, going around Jace’s back, encouraging him. “Do it again, please.”

Jacaerys starts kissing up your neck until he reaches your jawline. Lifting his head, your noses brush together, “Can I make you feel good now?”

You take Jacaerys hand and guide it underneath your skirts, helping him find the sensitive spot that brings you such pleasure.

“Oh fuck!”

Jace shushes you with a kiss, “We need to be quiet.”

You hold onto his shoulders tightly as he rubs circles on your clit until you climax.

Smiling Jacaerys kisses you again, “It’s late; we should get some rest; the morrow will come soon enough.”

“Can you stay a little longer?”

He takes your hand and helps you off the table. “Yes, but I’ll need to go before the handmaidens come in the morning.”

[milf-harrington]

i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from. 

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner. 

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed. 

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like. 

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently. 

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament. 

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

[asumi2020202]

Was I truly that Bad?

Pairing: Dad!Daemon x reader

Summary: Whilst fulfilling the wishes of his Queen, Daemon accidentally hurt you beyond repair. He regretted it till death.

A/n: This idea just recently popped up in my head. So I wrote it down hehe. Anyways, this will have the ending same as Helaena's. Thank you for reading.

Note:

There are some changes in the storyline.

It is short, I don't really know if I like it.

____________________________ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ_____

All throughout the realm, you were the only one acknowledged as a true born child of Rhaenyra. You had silky white hair, and violet eyes like you mother and... Father

Rhaenyra had a you in secret. You were conceived after the birth of Jace but before the birth of Luke. Everyone knew you were Daemon's daughter since his affection was not really secretive.

You were offered to Aemond Targaryen to 'fix' the rift between the family much to your father's dislike.

The Hell broke loose when Luke died because of your husband and his dragon.

You had a son with Aemond. He was the only light you had after receiving the news of Aegon's coronation.

Aemond tried to be there for you when Aegon said that you would not leave your room. He wanted to keep you hostage knowing you were the Queen and King consort's daughter.

_________________________________________

"He has white hair and one eye. Should be easy enough to find." Daemon spoke.

The man before him stayed silent for a second before replying "What if we can't find him?".

Daemon only looked him in eye before giving further information.

_________________________________________

You were in the nursery, singing to you child when suddenly someone entered.

You thought it was a maid or Aemond. So you turned around only to find a rat catcher.

You were going to scream but he put his dagger on your throat before you could. You son was still in your arms.

The rat catcher smirked as another man entered.

"Who's she?" The other man asked.

"She's the Queen she is." Replied the rat catcher in a whispering manner.

"A son.. for a son he said."

"I know but look in her arms. That's the prince's son."

The rat catcher released your throat before saying " we ain't here to hurt ya. We only want the boy."

You looked visibly shocked and fear stricken.

"I have a necklace..... It is of great value." You spoke as you tried to removed it with one hand. The taller man tore it off you neck before saying "thats not a son."

"Kill me please. I beg you don't hurt my child." By now you were already crying. The rat catcher forcefully took your son from your hands.

In front of your very eyes you saw your little boy's head getting separated. The men hastily put his head inside a bag before leaving.

You started to sob heavily. Having difficulties breathing.

Aemond barged through the room after he heard your screams and wails. Alicent, Aegon and Otto were present too. Alicent wanted to throw up.

Aegon was sad. He always did love you. He wanted your mother to betroth you to him but he was already betrothed to Helaena. Now that he saw you like this, desperately trying to wipe the blood that oozed out of your son's body, he felt hurt too.

From that day forth, you didn't eat, sleep or even bathe. You were completely dead inside. More so when you got to know that the one who sent them was your father. Grief blinded you.

_________________________________________

The green council had decided to send you and the Dowager Queen to the funeral after they caught one of the perpetrator.

The people tried to reach for you as they saw your son, Baelor's body. The way the 1 year old boy's head was stitched with his neck.

The cart which held your son's body fell in a hole in the road. People tried to approach you and touch you, giving their condolences. You desperately clutched on Alicent's cloth as she tried to help you through your panic attack.

You couldn't hear anything. Only a ringing in your ear as you knelt in your and the Dowager Queen's cart. The last thing you heard was

"A curse! A curse on Rhaenyra the Monstrous!"

Someone cursed your mother. Soon all went black as your vision faded.

_________________________________________

"How could you do this Daemon?! To our sweet child!" Rhaenyra shouted, fury and sorrow flooding through.

"I told them specifically for Aemond. Shes my daughter as well, I know I did wrong. It was a mistake.

I was there that day. The day she was forced to attend the funeral. I am hurt as well knowing my daughter lost her son!" Daemon replied.

"You will never understand what a mother feels when she loses her child. My little girl lost her only child. Alicent reached out to me in secret! She told me that my girl is not even eating properly! She's down with a heavy fever..." Rhaenyra argued. She was crying.

Daemon had made a grave mistake. He never wanted to hurt you. He never meant for his grandchild to die. Right in front of your eyes. He wanted to kill Aemond for Luke's death, yes. But he wanted to kill Aemond so you could be free. So you could come back to your family. He never wanted to bring you pain. You were his daughter, his little zaldrīzes.

________________________________________

The black council was going on and on with what move they should play. Rhaenyra was getting frustrated.

Rhaenyra's personal maid, Elinda came in. She bowed before all, her eyes watering. As Rhaenyra was going to ask her what happened she said

"The princess is dead." All stopped. Everything and everyone silent. Rhaenyra stood still.

"A raven came in just n-now.... It said that Princess y/n jumped off of her window. H-her body was stabbed by Maegor's blades...." Elinda cried as she said. Leaving the room quickly.

The lords all left the council. Only Rhaena, Baela, Jacaerys, Daemon, Rhaenyra and Rhaenys were there.

Daemon couldn't comprehend anything. Her daughter..... Dead? No she wouldn't do that. A dragon's flame cannot be extinguished so easily.

Rhaenyra fell on the floor as Rhaenys supported her. She felt fury. But all she could do was cry. Her sweet girl. Her little Y/n. It was as if only yesterday she was tugging on her skirt and now she's....... dead.....

Jacaerys didn't know what to do. His little sister was dead. Consumed by the grief of the death of his nephew. First he lost Luke now y/n...

Baela and Rhaena cried that entire day. Blaming themselves for not protecting you as elder sisters should.

_________________________________________

Daemon was going to Harrenhal. As he was about to mount Caraxes, as guard came in and handed him something.....

....it was a necklace..... The same one he had given you. He felt a tear fall down his cheek. His heart hurt. So much. Yet he couldn't express it.

_________________________________________

Daemon had conquered Harrenhal. He was walking inside his leaking room when he heard his door being violently knocked on.

After picking up his sword, he carefully came down the stairs outside his room. He found a room.

He saw a figure humming while sitting infront of the fireplace.

As he got closer, the figure spoke to him

"I'm a bad child aren't i? You hate me. I always disobeyed everyone. But I only did so to be with you." It was you. His eyes watered. You were wearing the necklace he gave you.

He shook his head no. He didn't hate you because you disobeyed. He loved you for it.

"Why did you punish me so much ? Was I truly that Bad...... Kepã?" He heard you say as he got closer. He saw you stitching your son's head while crying.

His sword fell from his hand as he woke up. He opened his eyes to see a tree. He turned around and saw a woman.

_________________________________________

It was tough. But he did it anyway. He jumped off of Caraxes and landed on Vhagar.

Gripping the Dark Sister tight in his hand, he stabbed it straight through Aemond's right eye.

He saw as Aemond fall in the water. He stumbled as he fell off. Caraxes took Vhagar inside the water.

As Daemon slowly fell from the sky , all he could think about was you.

How he wished he could watch you grow. You were only seven and ten. To young to die.

Before his eyes flashed all the times that you ran away from your septa and hid behind his legs.

The little infant wouldn't stop crying until she was in his arms.

The little toddler first took her steps only to hug her father as he picked her up.

His little y/n. The one who died because of his one mistake.

His eyes were getting blurry and all he saw before he fell in the water was your face, the same face from his dream. Crying. Stitching his grandson's head.

He clutched your necklace tight in his arms as tears gathered in his eyes. His eyes were shut tight. And as he cried...

He repeatedly heard you cry and say

"Was I truly that Bad.............kepã?"

-Lillian

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Issa byka rūklon [Daemon Targaryen x Wife!reader]

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Other HOTD stories

Summary: Daemon is feared among men for his battle prowess, finding solace and love in his pure sunshine of a wife. One serene evening, amidst impending war, they steal a moment alone. His wife with gentle hands and a heart full of affection, braids Daemon’s hair, weaving delicate flowers into the strands…

*This was a one shot request from a very special person of mine, my bestie @mrsdaemontargaryen I had asked her to send me a prompt because I have been on such a long hiatus from writing. Writer’s block has not been fun {among personal things but let’s not get into that}. Please enjoy this Daemon one shot and soon enough, I will be taking requests again in time for season two. 🖤*

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You placed a hand on the ghost of your swelling stomach, your violet eyes shining from the fireplace’s flames. The incident was still fresh in your mind, your sister’s screams of calling you a traitor ringing in your ears. It wasn’t a surprise to see the twins together in Storm’s End, having been inseparable since birth, but you never thought Adryana* would try to murder you.

You turned your head slightly, hearing the footsteps, letting out a soft sigh, and feeling your husband wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into his chest. “Is it done?”

Daemon nodded, nuzzling his nose into your silver hair. “Soon enough, she will feel the pain you felt.”

You took a deep breath, looking ahead. When Daemon was writing to his friends in the capital, you had mentioned to him how you wanted Adryana to feel the same pain you felt when she took her unborn babe from you. He added, “Along with the usurper’s son, take the life of his brother’s son.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Daemon whispered in your ear as though he could read your mind. “Those green cunts didn’t feel anything killing Luke and our child. You shouldn’t either.”

You nodded in agreement, furrowing your brows. “Can we go on a walk?” You knew this would be the last calm moment before Westeros is thrown into chaos.

You turned in Daemon’s arms, smiling a small smile when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course, my love.”

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You wrapped your hands around Daemon’s arm as he led you down the familiar path toward Aegon’s Garden. During the day, it was a favorite spot for your young son, Alyster, to play in; he especially enjoyed the cranberries that grew there. The eye of the dragon statue glistened in the moonlight the closer you got, lifting your dress slightly so it did not drag too much through the grass.

You thanked Daemon quietly when he helped you into the plush grass, a hum passing your lips as you began to pick at the small white wildflowers surrounding you mindlessly. Since you’ve woken up from the incident, the two of you have rarely spent time alone, with Alyster not leaving your side and Daemon being preoccupied with the small council. For the first time in a long time, you felt peace.

Once he sat down, you moved to sit behind your husband, your fingers gingerly taking a section of his hair and beginning to work it in a braid. His hair was not as long as it once was but manageable. You smiled, hearing the light chuckle coming from him.

“What?” You asked as you grabbed one of the wildflowers you picked, placing it carefully within the braid.

Daemon kept his eyes ahead, a small smile forming on his features. “I’m only thinking back to our wedding day.”

“Our wedding day?” You repeated while beginning to braid another section of his hair, adding the little flowers as you went.

Daemon hummed in response. “You wanted to braid my hair that day, too.”

You smiled at the memory. You had a traditional Valyrian wedding against your mother’s wishes. You were never one to listen to your mother, to begin with, having gone against her wishes to become Rhaenyra’s ward at fifteen, shortly after Laena’s funeral, and two years later becoming Daemon’s third wife. Now, at the age of three-and-two, the two of you had a six-year-old son, a son your mother and father only met once.

“I’m hoping this war will be over quickly,” Daemon spoke quietly, breaking the silence.

You hummed, leaning back to examine your creation. “I do not want to talk about war this evening, my love,” You said softly, placing a few more flowers in the braids with a soft smile.

You enjoyed the calm moments while you could, not knowing if this would be your last one together. The war began when Aemond and Adryana struck in Storm’s End, and you knew Daemon would be restless until every one of their heads was on spikes. You were to cherish these moments while they lasted.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You hummed as the sun filtered through the windows, stirring slightly only to feel the side beside you cold. You furrowed your brows while rubbing your eyes as you sat up, your stomach still sore from your injuries.

“You do not want to go to the small council like that?” You asked teasingly, seeing Daemon picking out the white flowers, having slept in them.

He chuckled, looking down at the small pile forming beside him at the vanity. “I’m not sure it would be proper attire for a small council meeting.”

You scrunched up your nose while slowly getting out of bed. Wrapping your silken robe around you, you walked up behind your husband, meeting his violet eyes in the mirror.

“Issa byka rūklon*,” Daemon said softly, placing his hand on your arm when you wrapped them around his neck.

You hummed lightly. “I prefer when you call me aōha vēzos*.”

Daemon laughed. “No one else can hear that.”

You smirked, moving back so Daemon could get up. You straightened his doublet for him, scrunching up your nose when he placed two fingers under your chin, making you look up.

“I love you, Y/N,” Daemon whispered, moving his hand to your cheek.

“I love you too,” You replied, meeting his lips in a short, sweet kiss.

You watched him pull away after a moment, a small smirk forming on your features. You noticed the stray flower tucked in the waves of his hair.

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

“You’re late, Daemon,” Corlys spoke up, seeing the Prince enter the council chambers.

“You should already know that I enjoy making late, dramatic entrances,” Daemon replied simply, sliding into the empty seat on Rhaenyra’s right.

Rhaenyra eyed her uncle curiously, tilting her head. “Daemon,” She called to him, clearing her throat while motioning to her hair.

Daemon furrowed his brows, reaching up to feel the soft petals of the single wildflower he had forgotten about. He untangled it from his hair, looking down at it with a soft sigh.

“Is the Rogue Prince going soft?” Lord Celtigar questioned with a laugh.

“I believe he is,” Corlys agreed.

Daemon only scoffed as the Black Council erupted in laughter, Rhaenyra even adding a giggle of her own. He sighed as the jesting continued around him, his eyes staying on the wildflower in his hand. He twirled it on its tiny stem, his mind wandering back to his wife, their son, and the babe they had lost.

There was no guarantee of surviving this kin war, but Daemon was determined to win it so that he and his family could finally live the peaceful life they had long desired.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

*Adryana: Adryana Targaryen is my original character for House of the Dragon. She is the youngest daughter and fifth child of King Viserys and Queen Alicent (The reader is the eldest daughter and child). She is wed to her twin brother, Aemond, and they have a set of twins together; a son named Vanar and a daughter named Vhaenys. She is known to have a short temper and often accused her eldest sister of abandoning her to live with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. She also felt hurt when she sided with Rhaenyra's children during the Driftmark incident. Her temper overflowed when her eldest sister made a comment about how their father would be disappointed in the twins and their actions after reuniting in Storm's End, ultimately resulting in Adryana attempting to kill her and the unborn babe. The eldest sister lived, but the unborn babe did not, leading to her and Daemon planning revenge on Lucerys and their child.

*Issa byka rūklon: High Valyrian for my little flower.

*aōha vēzos: High Valyrian for your sun.

[pancake-breakfast]

I think chapter 2 of TriMax Volume 6 might just be my favorite thus far. Everything in it hinges on this one iconic scene.

This isn't the first time Wolfwood has pointed a gun at Vash's head. Maybe it won't even be the last. But it holds a bit more weight here because just a few pages ago, we saw a flashback where Wolfwood pointed his gun at someone else's head.

His hand shakes as he aims at Knives. His breath is heavy, and the memory of the Fifth Moon incident is fresh in his mind. He knows if he can just pull the trigger, he can end it here. This being of destruction will be gone, and maybe this time his fancy scientists won't be able to bring him back.

But then Knives does Plant things, and under the weight of it Wolfwood finds he just can't follow through. He fears his own death too much, and Knives will surely kill him.

When he points his gun at Vash, it's different. His hand is steady, his breath calm. The memory of everything that happened at the Dragon's Nest is fresh in his mind; just this morning he warned Meryl that she and Milly should remember that, despite his ideals, Vash is still a loose cannon that they'd do well to avoid. He thinks to himself that if he can just pull the trigger, if he can just take out the less intimidating of the brothers, then one of these monstrous twins and half of the problem will be gone.

This time, there's no crushing sensation of oppression. There's no air of fear and malice. There are no threats or memories of twisted promises. There's only a look, wary and concerned...

...but even by the time this happens, Wolfwood has already lowered his gun. He's decided not to pull the trigger, not because of an immediate threat on his life, but because... well, it's Vash.

Wolfwood surely knows that if he pulls that trigger, he catastrophically fails his mission, and whatever consequences might await him on the far side of such a failure aren't going to be anywhere near pleasant. But it doesn't seem like it's fear of Knives that makes him lower his gun. At the very, very least, Wolfwood knows no one stands a better chance at taking down Knives, but he also knows Vash. He's seen Vash's fake smiles and knows his real ones. He understands Vash's ideals despite very much not wanting to and not knowing how he could possibly accept them for himself. He's fought side by side with Vash, and been standing at his back since day 1.

And before this night is out, only a few minutes after pulling a gun on Vash, Wolfwood's right back there again, moving in tandem with Vash, being a human shield so they can accomplish Vash's goals together.

It's only when the fight comes to a close that Wolfwood realizes that's what he's been doing. He didn't put any thought into falling in step behind Vash, didn't dwell on the fact that Vash trusted and moved with him during the fight. It's only afterwards, when they stop to catch their breath, that he realizes Vash hasn't looked his way through the whole battle. That Vash didn't need to look his way through the whole battle.

Not only did Vash trust Wolfwood at his back, but he knows Wolfwood well enough to move intuitively around him, not hesitating and always understanding what Wolfwood's about to do. And at that moment, Wolfwood realizes two things:

First, that there's no way Vash didn't notice when Wolfwood pointed a gun at him. If Knives could figure it out while half dead and barely knowing Wolfwood, then Vash, who's awake, alert, and has spent plenty of time with Wolfwood, can surely figure it out.

And second, that when he's fighting back to back with Vash, nothing else really matters. All his (quite legitimate) fears about what Vash is and how dangerous he can be, about Knives, about finishing his job, about what he himself has become... they all melt away. He's where he needs to be, where he should be, and that's all there is to it.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Hell's Coming With Me

Summary: There's only one way to stop the war now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 8.3k

You find yourself in the Red Keep, where Aemond Targaryen, the younger son of King Viserys I, and the younger brother of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, is standing tall and imposing. His face hardened with anger as he spots you. "You dare to come here after what you've done? After you betrayed my family?" He snarls, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced as his rage builds. "I should kill you where you stand for your treachery! But instead…" Aemond's eyes gleam dangerously, "…you will earn your keep by telling me everything that has transpired since we last met. And if you lie or withhold information, so help me, I'll have your tongue. Now speak!" Your gaze does not falter at Aemond's threats. Instead, you lift your chin and meet his blazing eyes with an icy composure. As he demands answers, you respond with a voice laced with cold conviction. You stare back into Aemond's eye with your unwavering gaze, you do not back down nor shame away from his threat. "Do not think I fear you or your threats, kinslayer. I will speak, but only if you promise to listen and hear my words without blind rage and anger. A skill you don't seem to have mastered yet. You speak of betrayal, Aemond as if your own actions have not been those of a turncoat. But very well, I will indulge your curiosity. Since our last meeting, I have done what I must, to protect my claim and my loved ones."

His nostrils flare as he takes in your defiant stance, the audacity of your words stoking the fire of his anger. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain of holding himself back from leaping across the room to strangle the life out of this woman who dared to call him a kinslayer. "Your words are bold, but they're empty," he growls, his teeth grinding together in frustration. "You've betrayed us all for your own selfish ambitions. But know this, I won't let you get away with it. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done." Aemond's gaze darkens, his eyes reflecting the fury burning within him. He steps closer, looming over you as he continues to threaten you, promising retribution for your perceived betrayal. Your eyes blaze with defiance as you match Aemond's gaze. You refuse to be intimidated by his towering figure or his threats. Your voice remains calm and firm as you meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "You speak of ambition, Aemond, but it was you and your family who were willing to put my family and me in danger in order to secure the throne. Are you so blind to your own actions that you cannot see? You speak of betrayal, yet it was you who turned on us first." Your words cut through the air like a knife.

The corner of Aemond's mouth twitches as he fights to maintain control, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. The sheer audacity of your accusations sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling the flames of his wrath. "I didn't betray anyone!" he roars, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It was you who started this war. You and your scheming mother!" Aemond lunges forward, grabbing hold of your arm in a vice-like grip. His other hand balls into a fist, ready to strike. As Aemond grabs your arm, your instincts kick in, and with a swift movement, you twist your body out of his grip. Your heart races with a mixture of fear and determination, you take a step back, your eyes fixed on Aemond's menacing form, ready to defend yourself. "So it all comes down to this again, Aemond? You resorting to violence when you can't win an argument. Is this the kind of ruler you aspire to be - one who can't handle dissent or differing opinions? This is why I will make a better Queen than you ever will be."

Rhaenyra and Alicent burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they see Aemond attempting to strike you. Rhaenyra immediately steps forward, placing herself between you and Aemond. "Stop this nonsense at once, Aemond," Rhaenyra demands firmly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. His other hand uncurls from its fist, but only to point an accusing finger at his sister. "Don't interfere, Rhaenyra," he spits out, his voice dripping with venom. "This is none of your concern anymore. You chose sides long ago." He turns his attention back to you, ignoring Rhaenyra and his mother completely. "Admit it. Admit that you're working with them. That you're just another one of their puppets." Aemond's eyes flash dangerously as he waits for your response, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. Despite the precarious situation, you hold your head up high, your gaze locked on Aemond's intense stare. You refuse to back down, your voice steady and determined. "I serve no one's agenda but my own, Aemond. Unlike you, I don't blindly follow the whims of my parents and the council. I am my own person, with my own ambitions and desires. I do not answer to them, and I sure as hell don't answer to you either."

Rhaenyra and Alicent glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they step closer to you and Aemond. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, Rhaenyra speaks calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "It was decided that both of you will marry," she says, her voice firm yet measured. "It is not a matter of discussion or choice. You will both be tied together by matrimony." Aemond's eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at Rhaenyra, then his mother, and finally back to you. Stepping back slightly as he contemplates Rhaenyra's words. "So that's your plan, is it?" he sneers, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Force me into marriage with this traitor?" He glares at you, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Why should I trust any of you? You've all lied and schemed to get what you want. Don't think I'm going to fall for your tricks now." Aemond crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid with hostility.

Alicent places a hand on her son's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. She meets Aemond's gaze with a calm yet authoritative expression. "This is not about trust, Aemond," Alicent replies quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "This is about family. This marriage will strengthen our alliance and ensure the stability of our house. It's our duty to the realm, and to our families, to make this sacrifice." Rhaenyra nods in agreement with Alicent, her expression softening for a moment as she adds her own thoughts. "This marriage is not just a political union, Aemond. It's an opportunity for us all to put aside our differences and come together as a family. The war has caused enough suffering and division. We can end it now, by making this sacrifice." She looks between you two, her eyes pleading for understanding. Aemond's gaze flickers between Alicent and Rhaenyra, his face unreadable. After a moment of silence, he gives a curt nod, conceding defeat for now. "Fine," he grumbles, his tone begrudging. "I'll do it…for the sake of the realm." But despite his outward acceptance, there's a simmering resentment in his eyes. He may have agreed to the marriage, but he certainly hasn't forgotten - or forgiven - any of the wrongdoings committed against him.

As the wedding day draws near, the mood within the castle is a strange combination of excitement and anticipation. The halls buzz with talks of the royal wedding, which will unite two powerful families in an unlikely union. The bride and groom-to-be, you and Aemond, have spent weeks getting ready for the special event. The castle has been adorned with colorful banners and fresh flowers. The air is filled with the scent of blossoming roses, and the distant sound of minstrels practicing their instruments fills the air. As the months pass, preparations for the royal wedding begin in earnest. The Red Keep buzzes with activity as servants and courtiers scurry back and forth, ensuring that everything is in place for the grand event. You, meanwhile, find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of preparations, torn between the anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and the weight of the responsibilities that will come with your new role. As the day of the wedding approaches, Aemond can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. There's excitement, yes, but also unease. He knows this union isn't one born of love or even mutual respect. It's a political necessity, a pragmatic solution to a complicated problem.

Despite his reservations, he does his best to play the part of the dutiful groom-to-be. He attends countless meetings and rehearsals, tolerating the endless discussions about seating arrangements and flower arrangements. But beneath his composed exterior, a storm of feelings brews, churning up memories of past betrayals and present uncertainties. Aemond stands outside the Septon's Hall, staring off into the distance as he prepares to enter the room where his fate - and yours - will be sealed. Despite his outward appearance of calm indifference, inside he is seething with rage and disgust. He had never wanted this, never wanted you, and yet here he was, about to become your husband. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door and steps inside, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. There you stood, looking more beautiful than ever in your white silk gown, your hair coiffed into intricate braids adorned with fresh flowers. For a moment, he almost forgets why he hates you. But then he remembers your betrayal and the hatred resurfaces.

You stood in a simple yet elegant white dress, the fabric flowing around your figure like water. A small crown of flowers rests atop your head, their vibrant colors adding a touch of warmth to your cool demeanor. As Aemond enters the room, your eyes meet him, and a mixture of emotions flickers across your face. Despite the tension between you, there is a sense of resignation in your eyes, a feeling that you have reluctantly accepted your fate. But your gaze remains steady as you stand tall, facing him without an ounce of fear. As the ceremony begins, Aemond can't help but feel a mixture of revulsion and resignation. He repeats the traditional vows in a flat, monotone voice, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of hatred and resentment towards you. Your voice, on the other hand, is soft and clear, your words spoken with earnestness and determination. When it's time to say the seven sacred pledges, Aemond glares at you with venom in his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. But you hold your gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness or hesitation.

As the vows are exchanged, Aemond's heart feels like lead in his chest. Each word that leaves his lips tastes like ash in his mouth. But he forces himself to continue, knowing that this is what must be done. His gaze remains fixed on you, watching as you speak your vows with sincerity and conviction. The sight makes him sick to his stomach. Yet, he knows that he too must give his all, if only to save face in front of all loved ones. So, he swallows down his hatred and bitterness, replacing it with a mask of compliance. And when the final vow is made, he feels nothing but relief. Aemond grits his teeth as he utters the final vow, his voice barely above a whisper. The very thought of being bound to you in this way fills him with loathing. As the High Septon declares them wed, Aemond can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his throat. 'So this is how it ends,' he thinks to himself, a twisted sense of irony tainting his dark humor. You stood next to Aemond, your palms sweating and your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, you force yourself to hold your head high and maintain a façade of composure. Inside, however, your mind is racing with thoughts and feelings that you can't quite untangle. As the high Septon declares you both man and wife, you gaze up at Aemond, your eyes searching for any hint of warmth or affection, but all you find is his cold, indifferent gaze.

After the ceremony, the reception begins. Aemond finds himself in the crowded ballroom, surrounded by nobles and courtiers congratulating him on his new union. He forces a fake smile onto his face, nodding stiffly in response to their well-wishes. All the while, his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. He needs to get away from all these people, to find a moment of peace before he has to pretend for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, you were stuck talking to a group of ladies-in-waiting, exchanging hollow pleasantries, and discussing the latest court gossip. However, you can't help but feel suffocated by the small talk and false smiles. After making your excuses, you slip away from the group and disappear into the crowd. Aemond watches as you slip away from the group, a grim smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly where you'd go; after all, it was one of the few places he avoided himself. Quietly, he makes his way through the crowd, heading towards the same secluded garden where he knew he would find you alone. When he reaches the arched trellis covered in vines of climbing roses, he stops, his gaze trained on your silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Well, look who decided to join me," he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his piercing gaze. A jolt of surprise courses through you, but you quickly regain your composure and straighten your shoulders, refusing to show any hint of emotion. "I didn't come here for you," you reply coolly, your voice steady and determined. "I came here because I needed a moment of peace from all the insufferable chatter in there." Aemond narrows his eyes, studying you closely. He can see the tension in your body, the stubborn resolve in your eyes. But he also notices something else, something softer beneath the surface. "You're doing a good job pretending you don't care," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But don't fool yourself. You might hate me too, but we are married now…and we will have to learn to live with each other….."Run all you like, my lady. But you are mine now, and there's no escape."

You bite your lip hard, the sharpness of his words cutting deep. You wanted to retort, to spit back a scathing response, but the weight of his words sinks in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I am not yours," you retort, your voice firm and resolute. "And I never will be. We might be married, but our hearts and minds will always remain our own. I will tolerate you because I have to, but do not mistake tolerance for affection." Aemond laughs a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the quiet garden. His eyes flash dangerously as he steps closer to you, his tall frame looming over yours. "Oh, how delightful," he spits out, his voice dripping with scorn. "You expect me to believe that you've consented to this marriage solely for the sake of the realm? That you don't feel even a shred of fear or dread at the prospect of sharing my bed?" His gaze drops down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he continues, "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" You stiffen, goosebumps pricking at your skin as he draws closer. You refuse to let him see your fear, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is it not enough that I've agreed to tie myself to you for the sake of our families? Do you expect me to be giddy with excitement at the prospect of bearing your children?" You hold his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "I am not your property, Aemond. And I never will be."

Aemond grinds his teeth together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The sight of you standing defiantly before him only serves to fuel his anger. 'How dare you speak to him in such a manner? Who did you think you were?' "Do not presume to dictate the terms of our relationship," he growls, stepping even closer until you are mere inches apart. "We are wed now, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to cooperate, I assure you, things will be far more unpleasant for you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white under the strain. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "I am not a child, Aemond. I may be forced to suffer your touch and endure your company, but do not mistake that for submission or acceptance. I will never be your faithful little wife."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his face contorting into a snarl. The raw hatred in his gaze is palpable, his fury barely contained. "So be it," he seethes, taking another step forward until you are practically touching. "If you insist on playing the defiant maiden, then know that I will make your life a living hell. Your days of freedom are numbered." Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. His words send a shiver down your spine, the venom in his voice making your stomach churn. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly. "Because I assure you, Aemond, that I will not be cowed by your petty threats. I am not some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. I am a dragonrider, and I am not afraid of you." Aemond's expression hardens, his icy lilac eye reflecting the cold, unyielding stone of the castle walls. He studies your face, taking in every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of fear in your eyes. "So be it," he finally murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "We shall see who breaks first."

The days pass with a tedious routine. Aemond and you have an unspoken agreement: you keep out of each other's way, each avoiding the other whenever possible. Aemond spends his days training and strategizing, while you engross yourself in your books or spend time with your friends. The only moments you do speak to each other are brief and polite, both of you keeping up appearances in public but keeping a respectful distance in private. Aemond strides into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He scans the room, his gaze landing on you seated at the high table. Your beauty catches him off guard, and a sudden rush of heat surges through him. It's been weeks since the wedding day and yet he still finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He approaches you, his strides confident and purposeful. His hand gently grasps your wrist, pulling you close. "Tonight, you're to accompany me to the feast," he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

You stiffen at his touch, your skin hot under his fingers. "I assume that's not a request," you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice laced with irritation. You glance up at him, your expression impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affects you. A smirk tugs at the corner of Aemond's mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he replies, his voice low and firm. "It would be wise for you to remember that." You scoff, rolling your eyes at his arrogant demeanor. "Of course, My Lord," you reply, your tone dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Because heaven forbid I refuse to be at your beck and call." You let out an audible sigh, your patience already wearing thin. "Very well," you respond, your tone laced with resignation. You adjust the loose braid over your shoulder and meet his gaze with a defiant lift of your chin. "But don't expect me to pretend to be happy about it."

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. Despite your protests, he can't help but find your spirit alluring. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he found himself strangely drawn to you. "As long as you understand that I won't tolerate any more of your insolence," he warns, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tonight, you will behave like the royal you are, or face the consequences." You raise an eyebrow at his warning, your expression defiant as ever. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not some common wench to be ordered around," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm. "And I will not bow to your every command like some mindless sycophant. So, if you expect me to behave like a 'royal,' you can forget it." Aemond's lips curl into a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He steps closer, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, his words carrying the weight of a deadly threat. "You forget yourself," he growls, his eyes burning with a cold, fiery intensity. "You are my wife now, and I will not tolerate any further insubordination. You will learn to respect me, or you will regret it."

You hold his gaze, your own eyes flashing with defiance and fear. You try to mask the flicker of anxiety that flits through your expression, refusing to let him see how his nearness affects you. "Is that a threat, Your Grace?" you reply, your voice steady, though your heart hammers in your chest. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "Because let me assure you, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this miserable union." Aemond's eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain control. His voice lowers even further, becoming a chilling whisper. "It most certainly is a threat," he seethes, his grip tightening around your wrist. "And one you would be wise to heed, my dear wife." His eyes flicker towards the nearest window, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over you. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next because once I'm done with you, there'll be no turning back."

The Great Hall is packed from wall to wall with guests celebrating yet another lavish feast. Servants weave through the crowd, bearing trays of food and wine. You sit beside Aemond, dressed in a deep red gown, your hair loose and free, flowing down your back. You remain silent, your eyes scanning the room blankly as you sip your wine. Aemond observes you quietly, taking in the way you hold yourself and the defiant expression on your face. Aemond watches you from the corner of his eye, studying your reactions. His gaze lingers on your delicate profile, the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips. He can feel the tension between you, a palpable energy that hums beneath the surface. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, causing you to jump slightly. He withdraws his hand quickly, not wanting to draw attention to the interaction. "Are you enjoying the feast?" he asks casually, trying to engage you in conversation. Your eyes flicker to his hand, then back up to his face. Your heart skips a beat at the brief contact, but you immediately push the feeling away, replacing it with your usual defiant expression. "As much as I can, considering I'd rather be anywhere else," you reply, your voice cold and distant as you take another sip of your wine.

Aemond watches you closely, his gaze intense and probing. He feels a pang of frustration at your aloofness, your refusal to bend to his will. He knows he must tread carefully. "Regardless, I am glad you decided to join me tonight," he says, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "You look… lovely." Your eyes narrow at his compliment, your guard immediately going up at the unexpected compliment. You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, your expression skeptical. "Spare me the sweet talk, Aemond," you respond with a roll of your eyes. You take another sip of your wine, your gaze fixed on the crowded hall. "We both know this is nothing more than a forced performance for the sake of appearances." Aemond clenches his jaw, his gaze hardening. He can't deny your accusation; the marriage is indeed a political arrangement. But despite that, he can't shake off the desire to make you his. "If that is how you wish to perceive our situation, so be it," he replies, his voice icy and controlled. "However, do not mistake my efforts to keep you safe and respected as mere pretense."

You meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly at his words. "Keeping me safe and respected?" you repeat, your voice filled with disbelief. You set your wine goblet down on the table with a thud, your hand trembling slightly. "You dare to speak of safety and respect after everything you've done to me? You've forced me into this marriage, held me captive in this castle, and now you expect me to believe you're some kind of benevolent protector?" Aemond grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He knows he should have anticipated this reaction, but your words still sting. Aemond stares at you, his eyes darkening with anger. The room seems to close in around him, the laughter and chatter of the guests fading into insignificance. He had thought he could maintain a semblance of civility, but your constant defiance was pushing him to his limits. "Do not test my patience," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I may have agreed to protect you, but I am not without my own needs. And I warn you, if you continue to resist me, you might just find yourself facing the true extent of my power." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "In time, perhaps you might come to understand that I am not the monster you believe me to be."

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as you stare back at him. Fear dances across your face, but it is quickly replaced by defiance. "And what would that take Your Grace?" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to remain strong. "For me to see beyond your cruel and controlling demeanor? For me to accept your rule without question, to submit to you and bow down before you like some mindless puppet?" Aemond's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with fury. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain. He wants to lash out, to show you who is truly in charge here. But he knows he must maintain some level of restraint, at least for now. "I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I require your acceptance," he snarls, his voice echoing menacingly throughout the room. "But know this. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure that you come to understand exactly who holds the power in this castle." You swallow heavily, your own temper flaring as you straighten up in your seat to look him directly in the eye. "And what, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I follow you like a docile little lamb, fawning over your every command? You may hold the power in these halls, Aemond Targaryen, but you will not break me. I will not be your puppet, nor your obedient little wife."

Aemond's eyes flash dangerously, his temper barely contained. He rises abruptly from his seat, towering over you. His hand tightens into a fist, the veins in his neck pulsating with the force of his rage. "You are treading on very thin ice," he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Your defiance will only lead to your downfall." Aemond's face twists into a scowl, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. He can hardly believe your audacity, your blatant disrespect for his authority. But he reminds himself that you are young, inexperienced, and easily manipulated. "You are correct," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom. "I will not break you. Instead, I shall teach you your place, and remind you that disobedience comes with consequences." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away from the table, leaving you alone amidst the crowd of feasting guests. You watch him go, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your heart races in your chest, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you. "Arrogant bastard," you mutter under your breath, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. "And an overly dramatic one, too." You sit quietly for a few moments, trying to calm your racing heart. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your goblet of wine. You take a large mouthful, swallowing it down quickly and wishing it was something stronger.

Aemond stalks away from the table, his long strides carrying him swiftly toward the entrance of the great hall. His blood boils with anger, his heart pounding in his chest. He can still feel the heat of your defiant gaze seared into his skin, and it only fuels his fury further. Reaching the entrance, he steps outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The cool night air does little to soothe his raging emotions, but he stands there nonetheless, staring out into the darkness, lost in his thoughts. You having regained your composure, decide to slip away from the festivities and seek solace in the gardens. You quietly make your exit from the feast, the noise and laughter fading as you venture into the quiet of the gardens. The cool night air and the stillness bring a sense of peace, helping to calm your rattled nerves. You walk along the cobblestone path, your footsteps cushioned by the grass, your thoughts consumed by the events of the evening. The image of Aemond, his expression twisted with anger and rage, lingers in your mind, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

Aemond remains on the balcony, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you. His initial intention was to let you stew in your anger, to teach you a lesson about crossing him. But as he stood there, alone in the night, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He knew he had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. But damn it all, you tested his patience like no other. He had never met anyone quite like you - stubborn, headstrong, and defiant. Yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and turned back towards the great hall, ready to return and face whatever challenges awaited him. You had found a quiet spot in the gardens, away from the noise and hustle of the castle. You sat on a stone bench, the chill of the night air nipping at your skin. Your heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, and the anger and fear faded into a dull throb. You looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds in the inky blackness. A feeling of peace washes over you, the garden providing a peaceful escape from the tumultuous emotions of the evening.

Aemond reenters the great hall, and his earlier anger somewhat subsides. He moves through the crowd with a practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the facade of a gracious host. Despite his efforts, his mind keeps wandering back to you, and the defiance in your eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds himself making his way towards the gardens. He has no clear plan or purpose, merely a desire to see you again, to gauge your reaction to the earlier confrontation. You continue to sit in the garden, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The quiet ambiance of the gardens helps to soothe your frayed nerves, the sounds of crickets and soft rustling leaves providing calming background music. As you sit there, deep in thought, you sense someone approaching. Your heart rate quickens, wondering if it's Aemond. You turn to look, your eyes widening slightly as you see him walking towards you. Aemond walks into the gardens, his movements silent and stealthy. As he approaches the bench where you sit, he stops suddenly, taken aback by your beauty. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your face, accentuating the delicate curves of your features. "Forgive me for disturbing your solitude," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could not help but notice your absence from the feast. It seemed…unusual." He takes a step closer, his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, his voice breaking the quiet serenity of the garden. You turn your gaze up to him, his presence so close that you can nearly feel the heat radiating from his body. Your guard goes up immediately, your shoulders tensing involuntarily. You force yourself to stay calm, to not let him see how his presence affects you. "I needed some time away from the noise and commotion of the feast," you replied, your voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside you. Aemond studies you closely, taking note of the subtle changes in your demeanor. There is a certain tension in the air between you, a palpable energy that he finds both intriguing and intoxicating. "It seems we share a similar sentiment," he murmurs, stepping closer until you're mere inches apart. "The noise of the feast can become tiresome after a while." He gazes deeply into your eyes, his own dark and intense. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, the proximity of your bodies causing a shiver to run down your spine. You tilt your head up to look at him, refusing to back down despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your pulse quickens under his scrutiny, but you force yourself to remain calm and composed. "Yes, it can be quite overwhelming," you agree, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart. "Sometimes, a little solitude is necessary to clear one's head."

Aemond notices the flicker of defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. He admires your strength, your refusal to bow down to his authority. It was refreshing, unlike most of the women he encountered who were either fawning or fearful. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admits, his voice low and gruff. "Your spirit is fierce, your determination unyielding." His gaze drops to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You feel a surge of pride at his praise, but quickly stomp it down, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words affect you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at your lips, but stubbornly refuses to allow it to show on your face. You keep your expression neutral, despite the rapid thrumming of your heart. "Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. He leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. The heat emanating from his body is almost unbearable, yet you don't move away. "A compliment, always a compliment," he whispers, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "It would do you well to remember that." You resist the urge to close the gap between you two, your body betraying your will. The sound of his voice, so close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly parched. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, forcing your voice to remain steady as you respond. "And what if I choose not to remember?" A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you. It excites him and stirs something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing loudly in your ears. Your body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the heat from his body seeping into your own. Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, you can't help but shiver involuntarily at his words. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin defiantly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I dare you to try."

Aemond chuckles softly, finding amusement in your daring challenge. His eyes gleam with an unholy light, a predator recognizing another predator. This was more fun than he had anticipated, more thrilling than anything he'd experienced in a long time. "Very well, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Consider yourself reminded." Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Your body is a jumble of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, intrigue. You bite your lip, your mind warring between the desire to push him away and the inexplicable attraction you feel towards him. "And what exactly are you going to remind me of, Your Grace?" you say, your voice coming out a little too breathless to sound as defiant as you would like. A devilish smile curls the corners of Aemond's lips as he hears the slight hitch in your voice. He steps even closer, his body almost touching yours. He can smell your scent, sweet and alluring. It sends a wave of desire coursing through him. "That you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That every inch of you is mine to claim."

Your breath hitched in your chest, your heartbeat quickening at his words. The intensity in his eyes and the possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. But despite the powerful attraction you feel towards him, you're also intensely irritated by his blatant disregard for your autonomy. "I don't belong to anyone," you say, your voice trembling slightly, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "And you don't own me." Aemond scoffs, his eyes flashing with irritation at your defiance. Yet, there is a spark of admiration in his gaze as well. He respects your spirit, your unwillingness to bend to his will without a fight. "Do you really believe that my lady?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble. "You may think you're strong enough to resist me, but I assure you, resistance is futile." Your frustration mounts, your temper flaring at his arrogant confidence. The fact that he sees you as a mere object to be claimed, despite your protests, drives you to snap. "You're such an arrogant prick," you hissed, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "You think just because you're the Prince, you have the right to possess anything and anyone you desire, regardless of their desires or feelings."

Aemond narrows his eyes at your harsh words, a dark scowl crossing his face. He doesn't like being challenged, especially not by someone he considers beneath him. But he also can't deny the thrill that runs through him when you stand up to him, the spark of defiance in your eyes igniting a fire within him. "Watch your tongue, my lady," he growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Or I might just decide to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Your eyes flash defiantly, the anger coursing through your veins making you bold. You step closer to him, your bodies almost touching now. "You think threats will make me submit to you? You think I'll bow down and give in because of your status and authority?" you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. "I'll sooner die than submit to someone like you." A flicker of surprise crosses Aemond's face at your boldness. Most people cower under his intense gaze and commanding presence, but you seemed unaffected. If anything, you appeared more determined, more defiant. "Well then," he says, his voice low and deadly, "perhaps we should see just how far you're willing to go." Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stand your ground, refusing to back down despite the danger in his voice. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you challenge, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. "I'm not afraid of you."

Aemond studies you closely, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your defiant expression. There's a certain allure to your bravery, your refusal to bow down to him. It's intoxicating, and it makes him want to explore further. "So be it," he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Let the games begin." A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his words. You can feel the danger in the air, the electricity between you crackling with tension. But you refuse to back down, no matter how your heart may be pounding in your chest. "You won't win," you retort, your voice a defiant whisper. "I won't let you." A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you both. It excites him and makes him feel something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. You clench your fists, your heart racing with adrenaline and fear. you are caught in a storm of emotions, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife. Aemond's predatory gleam makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him see your fear. "Maybe it's time for you to learn the meaning of losing," you replied, your voice surprisingly defiant despite the tremors that were coursing through you.

Aemond's laughter echoes around the air, a chilling sound that sends a shudder down your spine. His eyes, full of untamed lust and dominance, never leave you. "Oh, I don't lose, my lady," he drawls, his voice filled with arrogance and confidence. "Remember that." Aemond's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. He lets out a low growl, his other hand tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, teasing you, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Just remember, my lady," he whispers into your ear, his voice dripping with dominance, "you started this game." A gasp escapes your lips as his hand encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip on your hair is firm but not painful. The way his teeth graze your neck, just barely touching your skin, makes your heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. You swallow hard, your body responding to his touch despite your determination to resist him. You try to calm your rapid breathing, but it's difficult with him so close to you. "I don't lose either," you whisper fiercely.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest, vibrating against your body. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. "Oh, I believe you, my lady," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a seductive purr. "But we shall see who truly comes out on top." Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and you fight the urge to lean into him, a combination of fear and anticipation. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you retort, your voice shaking slightly. "You might be powerful now, but you haven't seen my strength." Aemond's laughter echoes around them, a dark, menacing sound that sends chills down your spine. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer still. His other hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your jawline. "Oh, I've seen your strength, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "And I can't wait to break you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. The feeling of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart pound in your chest. You looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try," your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on you tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, my lady," he warns, his voice a husky whisper. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy." You stare up at him, a mix of fear and anticipation. You can feel his hot breath on your face, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. "Save your threats, Your Grace," you say. "They won't scare me." Aemond's hand slides down from your cheek, tracing a path along your neck before moving lower. His fingers dipped beneath the neckline of your dress, his touch scorching against your skin. His other hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

Aemond's lips crash down onto yours, his hand cradling the side of your face. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, asserting his dominance. His other hand travels down your body, tracing along the curve of your hip before squeezing your ass firmly. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. His hands continue their exploration, pushing under your dress to find bare skin. Caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness, you stiffen in his arms. But as his tongue explores your mouth, you find yourself melting into him, returning his kiss with a passion you didn't know you had. His touch on your body ignites a fire within you, and you can't help but press yourself closer to him. Despite your growing desire for him, you know you can't give in completely. You pull away from his kiss, panting heavily, your body trembling with need. Aemond's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you take. He trails his fingers up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your center. "Running away so soon, my lady?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you were braver than that." You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips. You know you should pull away, and put an end to this madness, but your body betrays you, yearning for his touch. "I'm not running," you admit, your voice shaky. "Just… reminding myself of who's actually in charge here." You spoke before taking a deep breath and sat him down on the bench which didn't do much for the height difference other than how much closer you were face to face now.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest as he watches you, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger. He slides closer to you on the bench, his body almost touching yours. "Oh, I think it's quite clear who's in charge here, my lady," he purrs, his hand moving to rest on your thigh under your dress, his fingers slowly edging towards your panties. You swallow hard as you feel his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your panties. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. "Well then, Your Grace," you say, forcing a smirk onto your face, "I suppose it's time we find out just how submissive you can be…" A devilish grin spreads across Aemond's face as he hears your words. He leans in, pressing his hard cock against your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. "That I did, my lady…" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "And now you're going to get exactly what you deserve…"

Feeling Aemond thrust into you, you let out a sharp gasp. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. You arch your back, your nails digging into the fabric of the bench as you try to adjust to his size. "Aemond…" you manage to whimper, "it hurts…" Aemond grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your tight walls clenching against his invading cock. He withdraws slowly, only to thrust back in deeper, filling you completely. "It's supposed to hurt, my lady," he groans, "that's how you know it's real…" Feeling Aemond's thrusts, you can't help but let out a series of soft moans. As much as you hate to admit it, there's a part of you that's starting to enjoy this. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of tears and desire. "Please… slow down…" she begs, her voice shaking. Aemond grins down at you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you senselessly.

"Don't worry, my lady," he murmurs against your lips, "we've only just begun…"

[calliopesdiary]

i’m your biggest fan in the whole wide world please write a xaden riorson x reader where she is injured…she was attacked in her room and was cut bad. she doesn’t have anyone to go to and the healers are on a off campus trip so she dosebt know what to do…she just killed a guy and is now bleeding wondering the halls praying to find help. Behind her she hears the voice that woild bring shivers down the spines of any cadet…xaden (who she is terrified of and doesn’t trust) her wing leader .

tysm for requesting, lovely! i recently finished this book <3

I'm Tired.

xaden!riorson x fem!reader

a/n; first time writing for xaden! woo! and you basically take violets place (:

contents; cussing, xaden being mean, reader gets injured, big buff scary big buff dragon man, fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

you clutched your bleeding abdomen with agony, stumbling your way to the lavatory with blood pooling out of your stomach.

and you couldn't see.

you were attacked unexpectantly by an unbonded cadet who wanted to murder you for your dragons bond.

that's how you ended up here, bleeding out and desperately searching for a beacon of light.

and in this case, yours was Xaden Riorson, your stern wingleader.

he leaned against the wall, his toned check bare and his arms crossed over it.

"what the fuck happened, Y/N?!"

he rushed to your bleeding side, still keeping up his stoic act. he wrapped his arms protectively around you as you attempted to walk, lifting you up off your feet and placing you onto the basin.

"get the fuck away from me-!" you didn't trust Xaden, he was the last person who you wanted to help you.

"y/n, calm the fuck down."

"X-Xaden i can't fucking see, i'm scared."

you whined in pain as he flipped you over onto your back.

"you didn't answer me."

"t-these people c-came into my room- and they stabbed me and- everything hurts and i can't see."

you were clearly having a panic attack, at the very worst time.

"y/n, you need to calm down. i'll help you, you need to calm down."

you breathed heavily, the anxiety bubbling into you hurt worse than the open wounds across your entire body.

"stay with me, y/n, stay with me."

"i-i'm trying."

he gave you a sleeping drought to stitch you up, his arms still tightly holding onto you.

-

the ointment stung on your wounds, as you slowly woke up.

"o-ow." you grunted, trying to shift over.

"stop movin' god damnit."

was xaden riorson... man handling you?

he patched you up, you still couldn't really see but he had assured you it would be long until you could again.

"how do you feel?"

he lifted you up off the floor and onto your knees.

"Tired."

"it'll wear off."

"i'm sorry.." you felt hot tears flood up the vision you had left, and you collapsed into his chest.

"hey.. hey.."

you'd never seen him this sweet before, he almost seemed like a different person.

"it's okay, it's okay, you're safe."

"i- i killed someone, t-there was blood, everywhere.."

"you'll get used to it, it's okay."

you stayed like that for a while, petting your hair with his giant hand.

sobbing wasn't your favorite past time, but you'd spent most of your time doing so since attending Basgiath War College.

"baby, baby, you're okay now." his voice was so soothing.

once you'd regained your vision, you looked up at him clearly.

his onyx eyes with glimmers of the sun in them caught the reflection of the moonlight almost perfectly, his hand traced patterns on your back in a solid attempt to calm you down.

his raven black hair was messy and soft.

this man might've been perfect.

but you were far from it.

"if any of that shit happens again you come to me, understood?" he ordered possessively.

"y-yes."

you mumbled out, finding solitude in his chest.

"come on," he picked you up bridal style, carrying you away from the sight.

"where are we going?" you asked soft spokenly, your arms wrapped around his neck.

"i'm not letting you go into an unsafe room, Y/N. you're with me tonight."

your cheeks lit up in a crimson hue.

his chest was so warm.. no, do not think that about your wingleader.

he laid you in his bed before getting in himself, wrapping his arms in a protective manner around your sore abdomen.

"sleep, y/n, sleep."

you nuzzled into his chest, his lips meeting your forehead.

you could've stayed like that forever.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh what if wild Toothless who never got shot down by hiccup , toothless who can still fly , toothless who got attached very quickly to a injured human who stuck in his cove/nest❄️anon (yandere pet like concept/hcs/thoughts pretty please ) 

Yesss, here's what I got!

Yandere! Feral/Wild! Toothless Concept

Pairing: Animal/Pet-Like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping, Violence, Blood, Dragons killing dragons, Forced/Dubious companionship.

I really like the idea of the roles being switched!

Instead of an injured dragon befriending a human, an injured human befriends a dragon.

This no doubt takes place during the times where humans and dragons are still fighting.

Toothless is still the last of his kind, an elusive species.

You've heard of dragons, you've seen what they can do.

Many vikings tell you to fear them.

You didn't believe them until you were attacked.

You met Toothless as you were hiding from dragons who attacked you.

The Night Fury no doubt smelled your blood from your wounds.

You aren't injured too bad but certainly can't make it back home.

Not with the dragons in the area.

You aren't sure what to think when you see a Night Fury attack the dragons around you.

Toothless sustains some injuries but for the most part is fine.

You fear for your life when the Night Fury approaches you.

Both of you are covered in blood, the attackers are gone.

His eyes are in slits for a moment but he notices you're harmless.

Weak, even.

You could be easy prey.

Instead, the Night Fury doesn't kill you.

Instead he nudges you softly, maybe even tries to clean your wounds.

This Night Fury would be more scared of you than you are of him.

He isn't hungry, he isn't scared, he just seems curious... concerned.

You keep staying still, even as the dragon lays beside you to watch you.

Since Hiccup didn't find Toothless in this you would be the one to give him such a name.

Maybe as you heal more you fed him, allowing Toothless to show his retractable teeth.

The cool thing about this version of Toothless is definitely his flight.

He doesn't need anyone to fly, he's a regular Night Fury.

Yet despite this the dragon befriends you, an injured human.

He doesn't eat humans, it's actually not in the Night Fury diet (Look at the Night Fury article on the wiki)

So he isn't interested in eating you.

This would explain why he chooses to protect you instead.

The fact you're both "harmless" is what makes you able to relax.

That is until Toothless decides to take you away.

After all, you can't be safe here.

Toothless means well when he tosses you onto his back and flies to the cave he usually resides in.

The dragon hates that you give him the cold shoulder afterwards.

He brings you back all sorts of food to care for you.

He wants his human friend to heal.

He feels you're being hunted just as much as him.

You don't harm him because of a few reasons.

You wouldn't be able to go home... and you are admittedly attached to this dragon as your only friend and savior.

This is what makes you accept the supplies you're given.

You even allow Toothless to cuddle around you.

The issue is the dragon never lets you leave.

Nothing gets in the den, nothing gets out.

Toothless has taken the role of your protector.

Your family may think you've been killed.

You haven't.

In fact, you're really safe.

Toothless, as a Night Fury, is intelligent and powerful.

He understands your social queues and gets you what you need.

If you tried to leave then the dragon forces you back in the den.

If he lets you go... you'll die.

Dragons who try to sneak up on you are quickly attacked by Toothless.

Night Furies don't eat other dragons, but that doesn't stop Toothless from tearing into them.

Toothless washes off the blood of his kills before bounding to you.

Yet you know what he's done as you can smell the metallic smell on his scales and breath.

Toothless is loyal and will protect you no matter what it takes.

Why should you even go home? Home won't accept you anymore for having a dragon...

It's just you and Toothless now.

[winter-soldier-101]

I will take what is mine-1

Summary: (Y/N) Baratheon will have to face a dragon that now sits on the iron throne and what will become of her.

(Y/N) Baratheon was the wife to Aemond Targaryen they had wed days before Prince Lucerys was killed, (Y/N) had become pregnant with twin boys named Aeneys and Maegor Targaryen second of their names, moons later Aemond had flew back to meet his loyal wife and sons along with his niece, as Aemond laid naked with his wife for the last time as the morning light came Aemond flew off to battle his uncle and this time he did not return.

“(Y/N) Baratheon we thank you and your sons for coming to Kings Landing,the journey must have been long?” Jacaerys asks (Y/N).

“Yes your grace it was a long journey but we are happy to be here” (Y/N) says softly.

“Congratulations to you, I heard you gave birth to twin boys?” Jace asks (Y/N).

“Yes your grace two beautiful sons” (Y/N) says.

“Your sons are with you?” Jace asks.

“Yes your grace my sons Aenys and Maegor are here with their wet nurse” (Y/N) says to Jace.

“Bring them in then” Jace tells (Y/N) as she makes her way to get her sons as (Y/N) walks in Jace smiles at her and the twins.

“How old are they?” Jace asks (Y/N).

“They are about to have their first name day your grace” (Y/N) tells Jace.

“(Y/N) Baratheon you shall become my wife and your sons will be raised with my brothers and your sons will be raised as mine” Jace announces to the masses, all the lords in his court look at their King surprised.

“Your Grace, you are already married to Lady Baela?” A lord asks Jace.

“Yes me and Baela are married but I have decided that I will take a second wife like my ancestor Aegon the Conqueror did and Lady (Y/N) will be my second wife” Jace says to the masses and leaves everyone to talk as (Y/N) is taken to a room to sleep as Jace makes his way to his room he shares with Baela.

Jace walks in and sees Baela sitting on the bed waiting for him to walk in.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Baela asks Jace.

“Tell you what Baela?” Jace asks.

“That you plan to marry (Y/N) Baratheon and have her as your second wife and that you will claim her sons with Aemond!” Baela yells at Jace.

“Baela I am King. I will do as I please and I will take what is mine!” Jace yells at Baela.

“No I forbid it Jace I am to be your only wife!” Baela yells.

Jace walks over to Baela and grabs her by the throat and chokes her slightly and holds her against the wall as Baela hits Jace to get him off of her as he lays her go Baela falls to the floor coughing and breathing in air fast as she looks up at Jace.

“Know your place Baela, be happy that you are my first wife, but know that she will always have my heart and my love. It has always been (Y/N) and it always will be, do you understand me Baela?” Jace asks Baela.

“Yes…… Yes….. I……. Understand” Baela says roughly through her hard breathing.

“Good and get dressed we have a small council meeting to attend” Jace tells Baela as he leaves their room.

Small Council Meeting

(Y/N) sits next to Jace as Baela sits on the other side of Jace.

“Your Grace word form Storms End the Lord Baratheon wants his daughter and grandsons to come back home and he will give you King Aegon’s last living child the Princess Jaehaera Targaryen” the maester reads the letter.

“Write back to Lord Baratheon and tell him to bring the princess back home or he and his family will burn” Jace tells the maester.

“My King….. please let me send word to my father he will listen to me” (Y/N) pleads with Jace.

“Very well, dear wife write to your father and make him come to King's Landing” Jace tells (Y/N).

“ King Jacaerys Targaryen and his wife’s Queen Baela Targaryen and Queen (Y/N) Targaryen” Ser Steffon announces.

(Y/N) looks at her father and sister’s with tears in her eyes.

“Lord Baratheon we are happy to have you and your daughters here. It was sad that you could not make the wedding but that is alright you are here now and where is Princess Jaehaera?” Jace asks.

“The princess is with my wife and son,” Lord Baratheon says.

“Bring them in now!” Jace says loudly.

The princess was brought in and placed in front of King Jacaerys.

“Princess Jaehaera it is good to have you home. I know everything is a bit different but (Y/N) is here” Jace tells the young girl.

Jaehaera looks up at Jace and then behind him and sees (Y/N) standing there as Jaehaera runs over to (Y/N) and holds her tightly.

“It is okay my sweet girl I have you know” (Y/N) whispers to Jaehaera softly.

Wonderful…… now onto other news my wife (Y/N) is with child” Jace announces happily.

One moon before the wedding (Y/N) had went to the maester and he told her she was with child once again (Y/N) cried as Jace walks in and the maester tells him she is with child.

“She is with child, how far along is she?” Jace asks the maester.

“She is four moons along your grace it would appear that the babe is Aemond’s” the maester says.

“This is good then we will marry tomorrow and we will say the babe is mine” Jace says looking at (Y/N).

Taglist: @solkara @hc-geralt-23 @snh96 @bunny24sstuff @aemondwhoresworld @immyowndefender

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine DND night with the beast pirates

During one session

Queen: Alright, you idiots somehow managed to kidnap the ambassador. You have him tied up in the dank, dark, dilapidated dungeon of the old capital ruins.

King: We need to interrogate him for answers, it's clear that he's working for the necromancer, he might know where he is. I roll for intimidation, *rolls* sixteen.

Queen: *mutters,* of course that is where you go with it, pervert. *Speaks loudly,* Your intimidation is only slightly successful. The ambassador knows his life is in danger and needs to flee. However, he refuses to answer your questions. He proclaims, "I will never tell you anything, I shall be loyal to my master till my last breath!"

Kaido: *really in the character of his half-orc barbarian* that can be arranged, little man.

Queen: *rolls for him* The ambassador stutters, his voice quivering, "I just received messages from him and carried out his bidding, I don't know where he is really."

Yamato: Perception check, I'd like to see if he is lying.

Queen: you'll need a nineteen or higher, Are you sure you want to do that?

Yamato: *rolls* nat 20.

Queen: you can tell he's lying big time, you can practically smell the nervous flop sweat on this guy from across the room.

You: I can make him talk, I cast heat metal on his bones.

Queen: heat metal only works on metal, it's literally in the name of the spell. It doesn't work on bones, since they're made of calcium.

You: and calcium is a soft metal.

Queen: what's your source.

You: *came prepared to dispute this because you've been looking for an excuse to use this knowledge for evil. You pulled out an advanced chemistry textbook with the page bookmarked and the section highlighted, and handed it to him.* Read it and weep.

Queen: *puts on his reading glasses to read it* ... Dear god, okay, you cast heat metal, roll a d10 for me.

You: *rolls* 8

Queen: and with a plus three modifiers... you heat his bones until he's screaming. The ambassador lasts only thirty seconds before he reveals that the wizard necromancer, Typhus the Terrible, lives in the glittering palace deep in the inky caverns of Roptian, which is guarded by the onyx dragon.

Sasaki: yer kind of scary sometimes.

You: thank you.

At another session

Queen: okay, you enter the throne room, and the evil wizard is lounging on the glittering throne, Typhus the Terrible.

King: I roll for initiative *rolls dice*

Queen: critical fail, your fighter is dead.

Kaido: *rolls for attack* critical fail.. Hmm, I hate this game.

Queen: you are also dead, (y/n), you are the only one left with any spell slots or turns left. What are you gonna do?

You: ... I would like to cast summon water

King: there goes that campaign.

Queen: that spell lets you fill a space with water, are you sure that's what you want to do.

You: yes

Queen: the room fills with water

You: I didn't cast it in the room.

Queen: where then did you cast it?

You: inside the wizard's skull.

The whole room: *horrified*

Queen: you can't do that

You: the spell specifies that it fills a space, and a skull cavity is a space. And you let me fill the chest down the hall with water, why not this dude's head?

Queen: ugh, hang on a minute, I need to figure out the damage.... You killed the boss... You flooded his brain with so much water, that his skull exploded.

King: that's the most messed up thing I've ever heard.

Kaido: *mutters* we've done worse.

You: you should be very glad I don't have a devil fruit

King: I'm starting to see that now, thank you.

List of Up-and-coming works || Masterlist || Twitter

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

[lynnlovesthestars]

Could I ask for a Astarion x Durge!Tav

I've done 2 Durge playthoughs and wish , which ever companion you romance has a reaction when Durge rejects to be bhasls chosen and gets killed but brought back to life by withers .

When the party returns to the camp after they discover she was a mastermind in all the trouble .

she doesn't talk to anyone . Especially Astarion ....She has now taken the farthest away bed from the others and waits for everyone to go to sleep and she would get up and leave kethrics netherstone next to Astarion and she would leave to face orin alone .

But by the time they find her they find her after she defeats orin she's Exhausted and bloody they would get there too late as they would enter the temple and get close to her Astarion and the others would hear her go " I reject "and see her get killed by bhaal. His love , his darling was now gone....he cradles her when withers appears to bring her back .

If this is a lot I'm sorry I got carried away . I haven't found anything but one snippet someone made about this scene . And I love you writing and wish to see your take on this .

Sorry im so late, but here i am. Lete but always coming back at a certain point t.t

BG3 x durge HC When you refuse bhaal

The shock of the new discovery downs on the group only when you return to the elfsong tavern. The room is filled with an unusual tension as everyone follows your movements unsure whether they should trust you or avoid you.

You are silent as you gather your belongings to move, your brain swirling with all the new knowledge as it threatens to overwhelm you.

You move to the bed in the very corner, opposite to where everyone rested, to give them space and to give yourself some as well as you had to reweight the path you followed and prepare for your next act.

It is past midnight when everyone is finally asleep and your plan is finally set in motion. You leave Ketheric’s netherstone on Astarion’s nightstand and leave.

Astarion notices accidentally, the clung of the stone on his nightstand somewhat wakes him from his trance, yet only when it was too late, he realizes what’s going on.

The whole group rushes through the city, quick to reach the sewers and delve deeper into the ravines as everyone is panicking. Whatever you were planning, they knew it was going to be disastrous, and they wouldn’t- no, couldn’t allow it. As much as they were shocked, they still cared about you. Yet the moment the doors of the temple of Bhaal flung open, they were late.

“I reject.” You beamed clearly, not an ounce of remorse in your voice before you quickly turn your head towards the commotion at the door, and you couldn’t help but smile as they all stood there, desperate as you breathed your last breath.

Wyll:

“DAMNED YOU, BHAAL” He yelled as he rushed to your side, his hands quickly reaching around your contorted figure, bringing you to his chest. He pressed his ear to your chest, still arched in his arms, trying to find a pulse, life, anything, yet he was met with silence.

“Shit” He murmurs as he curls on the floor, his arms bound to you as if in a curse. He had to do something. He had saved Baldur’s Gate, slayed dragons, minotaurs, and couldn’t save you, his sweet love.

How many people was he bound to lose? Was he ready to give up his dream of a life with you? No, no, no he wasn’t, so he did what his chest told him to do.

It was almost a cry in pain as he sobbed the syllables out loud, knowing she was already listening. She was always there, he knew it.

“Mizora, do what you do best” He spat as the tears still descended down his scarred cheeks.

“Now, now,  pet.” She tsked sadness in her voice. “I wouldn’t rush certain decisions” She warned, aware of what was going to happen, yet incapable of telling him it was already going to be okay.

Gale:

He is rushing down to the altar, trying to stop the inevitable as he tries to cast a spell, Tiny Hut, as if it could stop a God’s punishment. He should have known better.

“Why did you do it, you fool” He cried out as he sunk to his knees, hopelessly placing his head on your chest to feel your pulse, as if the broken bones were not enough an indication of how dead you were.

The second he couldn’t feel your heartbeat, and he could physically feel your body from growing cold, he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, soaking your shirt as he clinged to you as if you were going to disappear at any moment, his sobs echoing in the temple.

“You can’t leave me, you understand?” He sobbed as he fisted your shirt and hopelessly tried to shake you awake. 

Astarion

Shit.

He’s running before you can even fall to the ground, oh he wished he had some magic to protect you from the impact with the floor, but he could barely make it in time to see you eyes turn lifeless.

“You can’t do this to me, you idiot, I love you, you understand. I can’t bear to see you like this“ He cries as he hoists you up in his lap, your head lolling on his shoulder.

“I love you” He whispers as his head drops to the side, the tears flooded his eyes as he rocked the two of you back and forth. “Tav, please” He murmured as if just begging would help.

Shadowheart

They say there’s nothing worse for a medic to see their loved ones hurt, their bodies fall to the ground helpless as they can do nothing but stare. They say that you lose all reason, and that’s what she felt like. She felt as she lost everything all over again. She felt just like when she was under Shar’s tyranny all over again.. lost.

Before she could comprehend what she was doing she was on her knees, your head resting on her  thighs as she rubbed her hands together and channeled all her magic in the healing spell. Yet it was not enough. She tried and tried as tears stained her cheeks as, one at a time, they joined her in a circle, some trying to reassure Shadowheart and some already feeling defeated.

But she didn't want to lose faith, she couldn't. She couldn't just abandon her lover when your love had just had the chance to blossom anew. She couldn't give up.

“Where is that sack of bones?” She wailed as she picked up the beaten body. “Someone call withers please” She'd beg desperately until he appeared in front of her, and maybe there was still a chance.

Lae’zel

You can’t be dead, she swears as you break in front of her. She wonders how you do it, to smile one last time as you bid her goodbye before falling to the ground, as your bones split in half yet you hold back the screams. It can’t be.

It takes her one second too long to realize what's going on before she’s at your side. Her hands barely shaking as she picks you up and cradles you to her chest.

“Bhaal, can you hear me?” She asks in the hollow temple. “You have made a dangerous enemy” She swears as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I will find you and I will slain you” She screams as she does her best to hold back the tears and stop her voice from shaking. “Tsk'in'va” She can almost hear the god’s laughter as she pulls you impossibly closer, whispering in your ear. “I will avenge you, my love”

Karlach

Anger bubbles up in her stomach, as she bolts down the stairs. "you can't abandon me too, Okay Soldier?” For once she fights the rage, she turns the heat into despair as she falls to her knees and envelopes you with her warmth. It was heartbreaking, for so long she was Stripped of love, of care, and once again the universe was against her. “ FUCK YOU BHAAL. If you think you can take them away from me, you are wrong.” She pulled you up in her arms rocking your lifeless body as shadowheart approached you two. “I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND TAKE AWAY ALL YOU CARE ABOUT, You sack of shit“ She screamed in front of the hollow altar that she desecrated with her spit.

Halsin:

Halsin can’t believe his eyes; his body moves as per inertia as he rushes next to you, his arms finding their home around your middle as their usual, and yet met with your lifeless body. He doesn’t care about what happens around him, as your companions take out their weapons ready to fight, he weeps, he prays Silvanus, he holds you as if everything depends on your sweet eyes meeting his again, but he knows.

He knows deep down that Silvanus can’t help him, that his tears can’t bring you back to him, and so he clutches desperately to your cooling body, uncaring if his robes soak in your blood, uncaring if he will break down in front of everyone.

He uses all his magic attempting to heal you, he begs Shadowheart and Jaheira, but neither can help.

The room fell silent when everyone but your companions were alive, the echo of the sobs mixed with the panting as Halsin managed to cast one last spell. The crown of roses sits around your temple delicately as he can’t help but sob louder. So many times he had wished he could stop in a flowerfield to make you a crown, the crown you deserved, yet the only time he was able to give you the flowery circlet, it was as you laid dead in his embrace.

Withers speaks and speaks as Halsin weaves his hands with yours, before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His tears stained both his and your skin as he can’t help but ignore what the Skeleton is saying, whispering prayers, begging to have you back.

“My love, please, please please” He says under his breath, his eyes are completely drained of tears, his throat is sore, his body aches from sitting on his knees for so long, and yet he doesn’t let go. “Silvanus had just blessed me with you, I can’t lose you already” He cries as he holds you to his chest tighter. Then he feels. The slow beat in your chest, your body fighting to get back in its shape, your chest rising rhythmically as your eyes finally open.

“My love” He sobs as he tightens his grip around your frame. “Don’t do this to me ever again” He nuzzles his head against your shoulders, more tears streaming heavily down his cheeks as his prayers turn to thanks.

“I thought I had lost you forever. For so long I wanted to give you a token of my love and I-” He hiccups. “I failed you, my love”

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Smut, swearing, mentions of blood, incest

Pairing: Cregan Stark × reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.04

“Many in my line have been dragon riders; very few among us have been dreamers like Aegon the Conqueror.”

The sound of snow being crushed under Lord Stark’s boots is much heavier; he has remained mainly silently as you walked towards the godswoods. Your grandsire had told men from the north they were not ones for long conversation, but then again, Otto Hightower has been wrong about many things.

“He saw them, the threat in the north, in his dream.”

Lord Stark slows his steps, “How do you know this to be true?”

“Aegon's conquest was not an act of pure ambition. The conquerors goal was to unite all the kingdoms so they might survive the long night. How much faith do you have in prophecy’s my lord?”

“Since the days of the First Men, we have stood as guardians against the cold and the dark. I know what danger lies beyond the wall.”

The closer Vermithor got to Castle Black, the more could the emptiness, that vast darkness surrounding it. The wind screamed in your ears, telling you to go back, to flee, but you could not retreat. Not when you needed to see the darkness. A cold sweat trickles down your back, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed, you away on your feet.

Lord Stark grabs your arm with his gloved hands to keep you steady. “Princess, are you okay? Should you return indoors?”

“I’m fine, my lord; I’m just—not used to the cold.”

He looks unconvinced, but let’s go of your arm. His first name was lingering on the tip of your tongue, but as there were others around, although at a distance, you thought it best to remain formal.

“They are inhuman, elegant, dangerous, and beautiful. The white shadow’s blood is pale blue; they are tall and gaunt. Their eyes burning like ice. Flesh pale as fresh milk.”

You stand on the edge of the pond across from the Weirwood and feel a coldness creeping on the back of your neck, but it disappears when you feel the warmth of Cregan’s breath. “Is the white shadow what they are known as in the south?”

“No, only myself and my sisters know of the threat.” Both you and Helaena had learnt of the prophecy through visions, and your father had told Rhaenyra. “The threat will go by many names: the others, white walkers, white shadows. Some will even refer to them as the cold gods.”

“You have fire in your words, princess, but a prophecy alone cannot be the only reason you came to Winterfell. And it wasn’t to sway which side the North would fight for.”

“There has never lived a Stark that broke their oath; it would have been foolish of me to even ask,” you smile. “The dragons are the last magic of Old Valyria, and they are scared. I believe the looming war between my family will be the last of them; the magic will die out, and then death from beyond the wall will spread and consume all of Westeros.”

“You believe the Targaryens will fight along with the night's watch when the time comes.”

“There is no doubt the north produces the fiercest fighters, my Lord, but a man cannot kill the dead alone. The white shadow fears what can destroy it.”

He swallows thickly, “fire.”

“My father owned a Valyrian steel blade with the words, ‘My blood come the Prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire.’ The dagger now belongs to my brother, but it should have gone to Rhaenyra. The prince that was promised will come from her line.”

You remove your gloves and place your palm firmly against the bark of the Weirwood tree, feeling the cold against your skin. Closing your eyes, you hear Helaena’s voice in the distance, but it’s not you she's speaking directly to.

“There is warmth beneath all that ice.”

“Ah!”

Opening your eyes, you look down and notice blood falling onto the snow; something had sliced through his thick leather gloves and cut his hand. “What happened?” You apply pressure to the cut with your own hand. “Shall I get a maester?”

Before he can answer, the sound of wings flapping alerts you to a dragon flying nearby. Vermithor and Silverwing fly lower than not casting a shadow over where you stand. Cregan takes a step closer to you and tilts his head down; he kisses you tenderly on the lips.

Seconds pass by, and he’s standing in front of you again, the cut on his hand staining the snow below crimson.

Was the kiss real or a figment of your imagination?

“No, maester. It’s only a small cut.”

You had only known the Lord of Winterfell a few days, but seeing the way his face twists in discomfort makes you want to help. You clear your throat, “then let me clean the cut for you.”

—

The room was silent as you dabbed at the raised skin around the cut on Cregan’s palm with lukewarm water. The wound has stopped bleeding, but you wanted to make sure it was clean. What would your grandsire or mother say learning a princess was attending to Lord Stark in such a way? No doubt the dowager queen would pull a face of disgust, and your grandsire Otto would put a political spin on it. Try to paint you as the image of the mother.

“I thought the cut would have been bigger,” you say quietly.

“Aye, it is small but deep.” He holds up the fang that he picked up in front of the Weirwood tree. “The wolf this came from is larger than my son’s but not yet fully grown. Even as a pup, a wolf's fangs can rip the flesh from a man’s throat.”

“The day will come when they say a Stark will ride into battle on the back of a giant direwolf.”

You look up from the bowl with water and into his eyes, “Thank you.”

“You have a much gentler touch than the maester. I assumed most princesses would swoon at the sight of blood.”

“My brothers used to fight when we were younger, and I would tend to their wounds before our mother would see.” You chuckle, “In his youth, my eldest brother would stub his toe, but would have you believe his entire foot was about to fall off.”

“Not long after Rickon learnt to walk, he went through a phase of screaming seven hells whenever he fell or bumped his head against something, but I soon realized he did it because any lady who saw would rush to coddle him as they do their own children.”

Your heart bleeds for Rickon; no young boy or girl should grow up without a caring mother. You had seen firsthand how Aegon and Aemond turned out spoiled and entitled, with your mother's bitterness rooted deep within them, as did you. Until having a child of your own changed you for the better. “I’ve seen Maitland fall and skin his knees while playing in the gardens of our home countless times; mostly he’ll get up without a fuss, but whenever his father is there, he cries and screams. He only stops when Aemond picks him."

The thought saddens you. Aemond would pick your son up and immediately place him in your arms, because to him it was a woman’s job to deal with whatever woes a child may have.

“Growing up, I was taught that a mother's love was the fiercest of all.”

Your heart flutters. You didn’t like the way Cregan was unintentionally making you feel so... safe. You drop the cloth into the water, which is now tinted red, and go stand by the fireplace.

“Is something wrong, princess?”

Pressing a hand on the wall above the fireplace, you stare down at the flames and shake your head. It was wrong; a man you barely knew should not make you feel more at ease than your own husband.

The chair he was sitting in makes a scraping noise as Cregan stands. “Have I offended you, princess?”

“No, forgive me. I’m just—in my own head.” You turn your head to look at him and are surprised to see the look of concern on his face. “As you said before, a prophecy isn’t the only reason I came here. I wanted to know what it was like to be free.”

“Free?”

“My mother told me women cannot rule, only guide the men that do, which led me to believe I was to make a window in the wall of my own prison. I’ve spent my life so far in the service to men, my father, grandsire, husband, and now Aegon.”

“What is it you desire?”

“To take my son and go somewhere where the name Targaryen means nothing, where the people aren’t scared of our dragons.”

The Lord now stands only a foot in front of you, “princess.”

“Hm?”

“Northerns aren’t scared of dragons.”

No more words needed to be said. Cregan takes a step forward and touches your chin with his rough fingers and gently tilts your face upwards so his lips are mere inches from yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but no noise came out. Cregan presses his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss.

Resting his forehead against yours, he asks, “Should I stop?”

“No,” you whisper. “Kiss me again.”

He kisses you again, but this time it’s full of urgency. Was it dishonorable? Yes, but the feeling of his mouth on yours was amazing. Addicting. When Cregan’s lips move to the side of your neck, the need to touch more of him becomes too much, and your fingers fumble as you untie the thick fur covering his shoulders and back.

He kissed below your ear, then quietly said, “You are a rare beauty.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch Cregan kneel in front of you. Putting his hands under your skirts, his palms glide up your thighs until they reach the top of your tights, and he pulls them down. You remain frozen in place, feeling his breath warm against your core; his stubble rubs against your skin as he plants gentle kisses above your womb.

“Wha—oh, gods.”

You barely manage to cover your mouth in time to muffle the moan that escapes it as Cregan uses his tongue on you in a way Aemond never has.

“Oh,” you use one hand to keep your skirts up and the other pressed against the wall. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s strong grip on your thighs, you would have lost your balance. “Gods, gods!”

Your eyes roll back, feeling the flat of his tongue against your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak. Your legs shaking around his head as you scream Cregan’s name. You drop your skirts when he stands again; your eyes linger on his lips, fascinated by the way your arousal is smeared across them.

He’s so close, your breaths mingle in the air. “Princess,” he brushes his nose against yours. “My dragon princess—”

You grab hold of the waistband of his breeches and start pushing him backwards until his legs hit the chair facing the fireplace. Cregan smirks when you pull his breeches down low enough for his cock to spring free, then push him backwards. Lifting your skirts, you straddle his thighs and sink down onto his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You set a slow pace at first, rocking your hips until you get used to the stinging sensation of him stretching you out.

Cregan brings one hand up to cup your breast, “You are so perfect, so beautiful.”

You begin rocking your hips faster the more praise falls from his mouth. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you lean forward and press your lips against his.

You'll pray for forgiveness in the morrow, but for now you wanted nothing more than Cregan.

[echoesofcamelot]

Hello, today I wanted to share with you my very own interpretation of this scene 👇 because it haunts me to this day.

The first thing we see after Kilgharrah says goodbye is the lake, and then Merlin slowly caressing Excalibur's pommel with longing.

Merlin is holding Arthur's sword. The sword Merlin made for him. The sword that made Arthur believe he could be king. The sword he has held so many times in so many battles. The pommel is still warm. Merlin is running his thumb over it, holding the ghost of Arthur's hand.

Oh, but this sword is more than Arthur's sword. It's a sword forged in a dragon's breath, the weapon that was able to kill Morgana. Possibly the only thing that could kill Merlin as well. Merlin is also holding a possibility. A key. He could use it. He could... He could follow Arthur once more.

Look at this terrible, terrible expression on his face as he looks at the blade. He's lost everything and he's got a way out at his fingertips. Literally.

And, for a moment, it almost looks like he is going to take it.

But Merlin wouldn't do that. Because if there really is a chance that Arthur will come back, then Merlin will be there for him. He will always choose Arthur.

So he decides to get rid of the sword. Because it's dangerous. It will always be a temptation.

And then.

Then this happens.

Look, I know it's supposed to be Freya. But, hell, no, it's not. I'm sure it's Arthur. I always assumed it was Arthur. It has to be. It's a very masculine forearm. And if you look closely at the shape of the fingernails you'll see that they look awfully similar to Arthur's.

This whole scene only makes sense to me if it's Arthur. So I'll always believe it's him, regardless of what the writers had planned. (After all, if you write, then you'll know that sometimes stories develop a mind of their own and find a way to tell themselves the way they are supposed to be, even if that goes againts the author's plans).

Because, look. Look at Merlin's reaction.

His features have lost all trace of hardness. There's sorrow, yes, and weariness. But there's also awe, and acceptace, and a new light in his eyes that almost seems like... hope?

That hand holding Excalibur is the proof that Arthur is really gone, and yet somehow he still exists. That hand holding Excalibur is Arthur's last goodbye, and a promise. I'm gone, Merlin, but I'm still here. And I will return to you some day.

It's right after this scene that we see Merlin finally saying goodbye to Arthur. He's seen he no longer inhabites his body, so he stops fighting, he stops denying. He accepts. He says goodbye. He lets go.

Arthur is gone, and Merlin is broken. He is saying goodbye to half of his soul. But he has seen Arthur's spirit, and he knows that a part of him is still alive. He knows for certain that his soul lives on.

And that is why I know Merlin will always have faith in Arthur's return. Because he knows that Arthur is truly there, somewhere in the lake of Avalon.

And, some day, he will return to Merlin.

[bittrlys]

The Dragon Prince season 6 is like watching people write themselves into a corner in real time. Exciting! Massive spoilers ahead, of course.

THE GOOD

Opening on Aaravos crying was a very strong choice, this is the actual 'Mystery of Aaravos' type content I've been waiting for

Terry picking up Viren while they're excited about him being alive is very cute

As ever, Terry being extremely ride or die is 👍

Terry taking care of Claudia was very sweet; Terry cutting Claudia's hair and Claudia's new haircut in general. Cute.

Viren and Claudia on the beach, "No parent wants their child to suffer for them." Oof.

In general, I was quite happy with everything Viren, Claudia, and even Soren, and I actually wrote a note of "i hate soren" at the start because I thought we were gearing up for another season of him just being a bad joke machine with no real character or feelings to speak of. But then they gave him, like, actual pathos! They let him interact with people in a way that feels human! They let him be resentful and complicated! Wow! Magefam is so back baby!

Viren trying to reconcile with Soren and be a better example for Claudia really got to me. His final sacrifice (OMG CRIMINAL BY FIONA APPLE JUST CAME ON SHUFFLE.......WHAT I NEED IS A GOOD DEFENSE CUS I'M FEELING LIKE A CRIMINAL.......AND I NEED TO BE REDEEMED TO THE ONE I'VE SINNED AGAINST.....) is tied so strongly to his children and that feels like a natural place to leave his character. Now, I've been saying forever that he was going to get a redemption via death, and figured Aaravos would be the one pulling the trigger, so none of that surprised me, but I thought the actual execution was generally good. I do have some more negative thoughts but I'll save those for later.

Viren is very good at justifying himself, and I like that you see him falling back into that, at times struggling with it, at times not even catching himself doing it. It feels very real. At the same time, I don't think he's ever seen himself as a hero, so it was interesting to let him go out on such a heroic note.

Viren's kind of abuse-coded (not actually abusive, IMO, but I understand if this makes people uncomfortable in a similar way) act of forcing Lissa to cry into the vial is interesting. It echoes him taking Sarai's last breath.

Him writing out his whole confession on this subject and then burning it because he realized it was only going to do him good was also very nice.

Though I wish Claudia had stuck by her 'I'm going solo' guns a little longer, I still think there's something to how she is so incapable of being alone, of thinking for herself, and desperately seeks direction. She is literally just like her dad, and it makes them both easy targets for Aaravos.

Like, Viren being such a force that Claudia easily followed him, then Claudia being such a force that Soren and Terry both easily followed her, and Aaravos being a supreme force Viren and Claudia both easily follow because at heart, they're more followers than leaders despite the force of their personalities and ambitions -- it's interesting.

Aaravos using Sol Regem to casually destroy a kingdom and kill Viren just as a small step in his plan is pretty fun. We love a grandiose villain!

Looking forward to Claudia and Aaravos. She's in some ways even more unequipped than Viren to handle Aaravos's manipulations, but at the same time, she's a lot more unpredictable than Viren. If this leads up to a confrontation between them, I think that could be really cool.

Aaravos tragic backstory with deleted child was really not on my bingo card at all -- I never thought 'noble revenge' would be his motivation. I like how this parallels him to Viren.

Aaravos crying enough to fill a sea is great imagery

The lore of the startouch elves being actual stars that descend is SO COOL. This is like, the first bit of worldbuilding in this show that's actually seriously impressed me. I love it.

Actual lore as to why humans don't have magic. Well. Not entirely. But it's better than what we had.

I liked Amaya and Janai's wedding looks. Cute.

Janai like Ehe I'll bring out my armies after I get married 😜 is funny. She isn't a very good queen but she is the moment! The gossip blogs would love her.

Ezran eating shit and not having his """diplomacy""" work out. LMAO.

SOL REGEM DOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

Kinda getting a y'know vibe from Soren and Corvus. I wouldn't mind that. I like that Corvus feels a little more tolerant of Soren than everyone else. It's funny Soren is like finally I'm away from my shit family but his new friends don't seem to care about him at all. Go and be totally free of all this, dude, or get a boyfriend.

Runaan back just when I was starting to think this show really hates gay males.

Rayla correcting her assumption about the sex of the diary's author was cute with the voice over changing. (cont...)

THE BAD

(... cont.) Did unfortunately then make it feel like "Had to be a woman because the author will be pining for a man."

Why is Zym STILL just a dog. Bro. It's like if all through Avatar you had to be aware Appa was going to be king someday. STOP BARKING.

Waiting for the whole cast to become vegetarians and somehow I suspect that will not be happening

When Claudia is listing the spell ingredients she could harvest from that cat thing I was just desperate to have Terry go, "Well, some of those could be ethically harvested, right?"

I find prophecies fairly corny as a writing tool and I get why they're going there -- predicted futures are the source of the anti-human oppression -- but still, I sighed.

Luna Tenebris putting a collar on her pet feels like, weird, right? Right? Right? She's not human and dragons otherwise seem so Respect all magical creatures. (Allegedly.) What is the uneven treatment of animals in this universe.

Naming your episode Red Wedding and I don't see a bloodbath ... oh, come on.

That ramble about ships from Caleb. Shudder.

Jeez, who is Rayla going to save? Her uncle who is an actual character or her backstory parents who are obviously happy and at peace? God forbid one of our main heroes has an actual hard choice to make.

Related: Caleb's 5 second rehab from dark magic.

Making his inner truth being about one other person is ... well ....

Cutting from Viren's rapidly cooling corpse to Lujanne receiving a sensual back massage was certainly a Choice.

Viren missing his wife THIS MUCH when he's barely mentioned her up to now was a little weird. I honestly think they saw the homoerotic interpretations of the very intense dynamics he had with Harrow and Aaravos and have been steadily backpedalling from that. Don't get me wrong, I can believe he loved her and he misses her, but the degree of it feels totally unearned.

I get children's media will have mascots for the children, normally I don't mind them, but dear god this show is hitting critical mass on annoying sidekicks (Zym counts as a very big one and he's already nigh unbearable.)

THE UGLY

I can imagine that the descendants of the human children Leola granted magic to are now able to do magic naturally and this could be the lore behind either Caleb or Ezran's abilities. I actually don't mind this as finally being in-universe explanation for this disparity that isn't just 'they want it more' or whatever, but it doesn't help this show's "Better People Are Born Better" messaging. Now, in that vein ...

King Ezran is a KING. Have we mentioned this? He's a king. He's divinely ordained to be above everyone else. You must show him respect because he's KING. Even Rayla emphasizes what a KING he is. BOW BEFORE HIM.

Ezran's idea of """diplomacy""" is just going "Be nice, please." (Followed by a threat LMAO.) "Go live somewhere else." WHERE. What if they try to occupy territory that isn't theirs? Xadian society seems quite separated and territorial. Ezran doesn't consider this. He doesn't consider anything. He has no actual diplomatic skills because he never offers anything, he just expects people to listen to him because he's KING.

You know in Parasite when they're like Of course the rich people are nice, they can afford to be? When Ezran was going I'm a king and I can choose kindness I was like, You're king because of an accident of your birth, and all your privilege and people looking out for you allows you to operate the way you do.

(Janai having an evil brother who is Not The True Heir To The Throne and Trying To Steal It is just part of the show's overall obsession with this narrative -- see also Viren coming from a less privileged background.)

Of course it's still funny to see Ezran be continuously characterized as So Compassionate, So Loving but when it comes to say, Not burning his own people alive or Extending the hand of kindness to one of his oldest childhood friends or her father, he just turns that shit off. This could be interesting hypocrisy if I thought the show was trying to intentionally paint him this way, instead of just wanting him to not be a total pushover because he's THE KING!!! ALL BOW BEFORE THE KING!!!!

The unbelievable frustration caused by a scene where Claudia is begging to not have to use dark magic -- Terry coming in and saving the day with natural magic -- Claudia staring at the peaceful solution and realizing she needs to change -- BUT IT'S STILL A FUNDAMENTAL DISPARITY IN HOW HUMANS CAN EXIST IN THIS WORLD? Is Claudia supposed to die because dark magic is too wrong to use? Now we have the reveal that humans are being actively denied magic I'm hesitantly hopeful they may get some justice in this regard, but it doesn't change the reality of humans right now. What are humans supposed to do? Rely on others for help? Oh, sure, most of the elves and dragons we meet now are just so nice and helpful to humans, because of the show's 'bad apple' approach to prejudice I've mentioned before, but we know that wasn't always the case.

Like, this actual reminder that the difference in power between a single dragon and a human settlement, and unlike the last time we're on the side of humans this time so you can better appreciate the horror of it ... it's depressing to feel like "Only by grace of your betters do you survive." It's echoes of Janai's 'forgiveness' of the human who put out the fire of that elf who assaulted her. "Aren't you lucky we're so NICE?"

This is all compounded by what I meant at the start of my review, that they've written themselves into a corner, especially wrt dark magic. In universe Soren sees no choice but to ask his father to do dark magic, something all the characters scold each other for constantly. Out of universe, the writers had a huge fuck off dragon come along to commit genocide against the humans and the only realistic solution is .... having Viren do dark magic, something the narrative constantly reinforces as bad. They ultimately frame this act as heroic, and according to a writer (I believe) on the discord, he speaks the spell forward to represent how this act of inherent good overcomes the "inherent evil" of dark magic (quotation marks theirs, interestingly.) I think the writers, for the most part, clearly like Viren and Claudia a lot, and like giving them 'big moments' with dark magic ... but this is part of the reason why the show has continuously reinforced a NEED for dark magic without giving any viable solution for the average human who doesn't have natural magical powers or is friends with dragons and elves like our main heroes. Ultimately, it feels hypocritical of the show to keep going on about the evil of dark magic (now very firmly an addiction metaphor) while having no solution for humans in tricky situations that aren't "magic you and only you can do, for some reason" or "queen dragon who somehow still isn't dead dear god coming to save you" or, y'know, "dark magic." Only one of these is really viable for the average person.

Like, you make it an addiction metaphor, but where's the alternative? Vampires need to drink blood to survive but vampire series often show vampires refusing to drink human blood as an addiction metaphor ... they drink animal blood instead, or something, and you get the metaphor. Right now, in TDP, it's either, do dark magic and suffer, or don't do dark magic and ... suffer more? Okay. I'm not saying life has to be fair or that there isn't value in accepting loss, but when Viren scolds Kpp'Ar for having all his fun with dark magic and then very callously dismissing Viren's fear for his son, I felt that. Viren isn't begging for a beer here. He's begging to save his son. Addiction metaphors need to match the scale and reality of what is being shown to you.

Sorry, I'm now going to harp on more about the Your Betters Are Born Better stuff now because I was actually enjoying (you know, tearfully so) Viren's death until his final lines. WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GASPED!!!!!!!! HOLD ON!!!!!!!!!!! Like, let me get it out of the way, I get it echoes his last exchange to Harrow and his loyalty to Harrow is tied to his loyalty to Katolis, and they're saying "He was power hungry but now he is acting in a way that is purely, totally selfless for maybe the first time in his life," which is fine. The problem is, I have sat through six seasons of this show kissing royal ass. I have seen Aanya (shudder) mock him for not being a real noble-born ruler. I have seen Ezran's divine authority be reinforced time and again, and seen Viren throw himself submissively before his King to submit to his judgement as King, not as someone he once hurt. I have been reminded time and again that less privileged people who want the power necessary to succeed in a world biased against them are power-hungry lunatics unless they submit themselves enough to the Supreme Order of the world. So to have Viren's last words be him reinforcing that the most heroic thing he can ever be is A LOYAL SERVANT is just ... horrible. If they'd just kept the framing of Viren's death on his love for his family, it would have been way, way better.

Altogether I uh guess the season was mostly fine. They actually did a better job tying disparate narratives together with common themes which I appreciate. I liked the magefam stuff. I hope Soren eventually learns the stuff Viren chose not to tell him. I hope there's realistic forward growth on the attitude towards dark magic and why humans feel they need it, like some acknowledgement that Katolis was only saved because of Viren (make that two nations he has explicitly saved.) Maybe even Ezran can take a break from being unbearably sanctimonious to properly acknowledge his sacrifice. That would be nice!

I really hope humans get some justice for how they've been actively denied a valuable resource. It seems a self-fulfilling prophecy (they punished Leola for giving humans magic, this made Aaravos go darksided, Aaravos gave humans dark magic, humans are very set against the magical community for the way they've been treated so they're more callous about using dark magic) so I hope the ultimate lesson won't be "humans don't deserve this" but "humans only ended up here because they were treated like they don't deserve it, but they do, by right of existing as beings in this world." If Callum (+ Ezran) end the series as the only or some of the only humans with magic powers, I'm going to eat drywall.