#We shall hope for both motivation and time to grace us

[etheriii]

🪶🕸️

The below written parts are a bit long, so tldr at end!

🪶 - What’s something you’re passionate about?

I'm really passionate about art! Specifically visual arts. Some of my current fixations on art include painting, crocheting, clay modelling, and model making!! My digital art is quite bad considering I didn't do any for years until about two months ago. But my traditional art? I'd say it's pretty good. (Atleast for my age) ...Or maybe I just like to boast-

I also really like to draw concepts of different ocs or make new characters! Though most of them don't actually end up on paper and just exist in some corner of my mind

Since I already have posted some of my crochet projects here, I'll share a painting that I'm really proud of :D

(It's from around 6 months ago and the quality is shit)

🕸️ - What’s an idea you had for a story, art piece, etc that you never created?

One thing about me: I daydream. A LOT. Which means I create a lot of scenarios in my head on a daily basis. So in terms of a story or an art piece, theres a lot that I haven't done because,, studies and other life stuff. For art pieces, I rarely have some idea that I haven't created as I either actually create the idea, or just scrap it and throw it away as to not overwhelm myself.

But currently I have 3 fixed worlds or stories in my head that I rotate around in my head. (Even though I do have other scenarios pop up lol) And I've just yesterday gotten an app to write it all down so that I can probably turn it into something! :D in a few days I might even share some of it here based on how much I like it after-

But a basic outline of one of them is that there's one person, they're the hero of the story, they save everyone, is regarded as a good person and they try "immortalizing" themself into a god for personal goals and it goes wrong, they don't like the feeling of reverence, feel suffocated and just,, run away. Centuries later, the worshipping that is done for this hero after they are a "god" is actually taking a turn for the worse as it's becoming evil. And some people want to save it and help people (they're the main characters) Also these ppl later find out that the main "god" or hero is alive and whatever happened is because of their shitty choices (they're just a silly lil person) <3

I apologize if the above part is not understandable as I'm not very good at putting my thoughts into words.. I still have to work on it a bit more as I've focused a tad bit more on the world building than story.

(Congrats you now know more about me than my irl friends)

~~~~~~~

TLDR;

🪶 - What’s something you’re passionate about?

I'm really passionate about art! I like crocheting, painting, model making and clay modelling the most

🕸️ - What’s an idea you had for a story, art piece, etc that you never created?

Nearly all the stories I have ever thought of are technically not created.. I've just recently started to actually document some of it

[thelarriefics]

FAKE RELATIONSHIP FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics that have themes of fake/pretend relationships. (Part I)

📖 The Greatest Thing by @infinitelymint (163k)

“What’s that on your finger?” Louis asks, his voice higher than usual, slightly panicked as though he’s realised something that Harry hasn’t even begun to comprehend. Harry looks down on his right hand then, sees nothing and moves on to the left, and— Oh. A ring. Or, Harry and Louis haven’t spoken since the band broke up when a dangerous combination of Niall Horan, tequila, and an ordained Elvis impersonator means that the two of them have to embark on their biggest publicity stunt to date - together. (aka the semi-canon accidentally married in Vegas fic that has been seven years in the making)

📖 Lightning Strikes The Heart by @fournipplesau & @justalarryblog (130k)

Shrewsbury, 1814 Dearest reader, I present to you your new bulletin of news regarding Shrewsbury citizen's activities. My name is Lady Merriweather and I will be in charge of the updates. I will make sure you are to know all the important details of what is to happen this season. You must know that you do not know who I am and you never shall. But be forewarned; I certainly do know you. I advise you to be on your best behaviour, lest you want the whole town to be privy of your business. As expected every year, the Lockhart House hosts the season’s opening ball, and its invitation is the motive of the hustle in town, and every family hopes for the invitation. This year is no different, but this year everyone's attention is focused on the new Duke of Montgomery, His Grace Harry Edward Styles, and whether he will attend it. All the omegas will be in their best manner, behaviour and clothes as it is expected. And here, dear reader is where we will find out which young omega might succeed at securing a match, hoping to not become a spinster. Place your bets.

📖 Mistletoe's For Two by @ireallysawanangel (90k)

After an encounter in a coffee shop with the rudest man he's ever met, Louis hopes the city is just big enough that he'll never bump into him again. When he spots that man at a bar the following evening, a plan begins to form. They both need dates for their respective Christmas parties and decide to use each other for their own benefit. They'll help one another through the holidays and then 'break it off' on New Year's, then agree to never see each other again. Developing feelings was not part of the plan. Or, an enemies to lovers fake dating advent fic.

📖 this charade (was never going to last) by @scrunchyharry (68k)

On the surface, CitizenX, an international caritative nonprofit, looked like any other nonprofit, funding humanitarian missions worldwide and striving to make the world a better place, one donation at a time. At least, that was what Harry thought, until he was hired as a computer specialist for a spinoff agency called carish, whose true purpose was to reveal CitizenX’s tangled web of lies. As if the whole ‘industrial spy’ business was not stressful enough, Harry found himself in a hatred-at-first-sight relationship with one of his new coworkers, Louis, a man intent on detesting Harry. When the worst happened and Harry and Louis found themselves thrown together in hiding, with only each other to rely on, Harry never could have predicted the turn their relationship would take. Nor could he anticipate that it would all be taken away from him and he would have to decide how far he was willing to go to get Louis back.

📖 another dream but always you by @nobodymoves (60k)

Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band. It's an unusual assignment from the beginning; Harry has a crush on Louis, and Louis's subconscious immediately decides Harry is the love of his life. When Dreamers cast Harry as their love interest, he can usually redirect them, but Louis is insistent on being Harry's boyfriend, and despite knowing they have no future, Harry wants to keep up the charade.

📖 Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes by @softfonds (59k)

What happens when a Duke who will only marry for love and a courtesan who only sells it create a public ruse? Well, nothing boring for sure. An Edwardian AU.

📖 I Keep Looking For Magic by @lululawrence (36k)

Harry loves Christmas, but this year is special. After ten years of boyfriends all failing to ever meet Harry's family, Harry has a fiance to introduce and things are looking like they will be perfect. Until they break up. Harry cannot go home alone when he had promised to bring a significant other again. This leaves him with little choice but to find someone to pretend they are his fiance. Surely nothing could go wrong with this plan.

📖 Lies & Liability by @evilovesyou (34k)

Harry Styles has only three wishes when he leaves River Dane Manor to go to Town for his first season: that his sister has rented a townhouse that will provide him as many of the comforts of the country life he has grown accustomed to as possible, that he will not trip and fall when he is presented to Her Majesty the Queen, and that he will enter matrimony out of true love, no matter how favourable the match with any which alpha may be.

📖 Pray To God This Won't Be A Mess by @xogucciblue (28k)

When Louis is outed just weeks before his hotly anticipated second album is set to drop, Harry agrees to hold his hand in a few pictures to cool down the media hype. That's all it was supposed to be.

📖 Went Down In Flames by @itsnotreal (26k)

Louis was in an absolutely shit storm. He had let it go on for too long. Let it go too far. But he had a plan. And tonight, said plan was going down. He was going to tell the boys he was proposing this weekend. ‘Harry’ would turn him down, albeit gently, and Louis would play the heartbroken boyfriend. He’d gotten this far. All he had to do was lock himself in his bedroom and cry a little. He’d been in a few plays growing up. Piece of cake. Except. It didn’t go that way. Of course, it didn’t. Because the universe, the beautiful chaotic bitch that she was, just had to have an actual Harry Styles and he just had to be Niall’s best friend.

📖 And I’d Marry You Harry (Because You Forced Me) by @2tiedships2 (24k)

The Proposal AU featuring Harry as Sandra Bullock, Louis as Ryan Reynolds, and all the fun a fake relationship and forced engagement can bring.

📖 if it looks like, feels like, tastes like love...  by @tempolarriefix (16k)

the one where harry and louis hate each other but pretend to date to be able to live in university 'family housing', zayn and liam are their nosy next door neighbors, and niall is the friend who made it all happen.

📖 Wed’n Walk (Or, We Went to Amsterdam Together) by @hellolovers13 (11k)

When Harry had first started planning his honeymoon to Amsterdam, he had not envisioned ending up there with his best friend. Or getting fake-married to him for 24 hours.

📖 Not Another Lonely Christmas by @haztobegood (8k)

Harry should be more nervous that he’s bringing a literal stranger to meet his extended family, but he figures it can’t be much more awkward than Aunt Sharon’s Christmas parties usually are. Instead, he’s looking forward to having an extra person to buffer the conversation. A knock comes one minute after eleven. He lets out the breath and opens the door. “Hi there— Louis?!” Or, the one where the friend Niall sets up as Harry's fake boyfriend turns out to be Gemma's best friend Louis

📖 Christmas Pretenders by @larryatendoftheday (4k)

When Niall convinced Louis to come home with him for the holidays as his fake boyfriend, he never expected he'd run into the loveliest man he'd ever seen. Or, twist on the fake-dating for the holidays fic, where the real love interest is the fake-boyfriend's best friend.

[catie-does-things]

People of our own time may consider the story of Catherine and Andrea more horrible than edifying, and feel that her ecstatic contemplation of the blood of Christ--a motive which recurs continually in her visions and her letters and her teaching--discloses an unhealthy love for the least attractive feature of Christianity. In our own lifetime we have learned to know the smell of rotting corpses on battlefields and in bombed towns; we know of the stinking sores and boils of prisoners from concentration camps, where dead and dying were made to lie on beds as wretched as the one Catherine had chosen for herself. We have poured out oceans of blood and tears, both of the guilty and the guiltless, while we hoped against hope that this blood and these tears could help to save a world reeling under the weight of its miseries. And how little have we achieved of the great things we dreamed! Yet we ascribe it to the confused ideas of the time she lived in and her own dark vision of Christianity, when Catherine intoxicated herself with the blood of Christ--the blood which would put an end to human bloodshed, if only we could agree to receive it as the redemption from our bloodthirsty passions, our insatiable lust for imagined gain for ourselves projected onto other nations or classes. Indeed, many Catholics think in this way. The strong-willed, brave and strangely optimistic girl who handled the powerful men of her time so masterfully, who had such an unusual understanding of the characters of the men and women among whom she lived, who really succeeded in making peace between many of her unruly townsmen, who in fact on one or two occasions prevented war, and on many put an end to bloody feuds--she would answer us as she answered her contemporaries in her letters and conversations and in the Dialogue: that the blood of Christ was the only source of her own courage and strength and wisdom, of her amazing and indomitable joy of living. She would say to us, Drink of it with the lips of your souls, as the saints in their visions seemed to drink it with their lips of flesh; assuage your thirst in the love which streams from God's holy Heart--then there will be an end to the vain shedding of man's blood by the hand of man. In her visions Catherine saw God's fire fall from heaven, like a rain of blazing light and burning warmth: can we really understand anything of her experience, we who have seen the fire of hate falling from the clouds, who fear in our hearts for the day when an even more destructive fire, invented by an even more bitter hatred and more violent passions, shall rain down over us and our children? For us, Catherine would have only the same message which she brought to her contemporaries, she would know only of the same remedy for our misery--the blood of Christ, the fire of God's love, which burns up self-love and self-will, and lets the soul appear, beautiful and full of grace, as it was meant to be when God created us.

Catherine of Siena, by Sigrid Undset (1951)

[haydenigmatic]

Since I'm feeling a little evil I have an angsty hypothetical ask😈. How would the Ros react if they got married to the mc and they were both super in love

Only for the mc to pretty much ditch them when the mc gets married to someone else. The mc never spends time with them anymore, it's very affectionate ect and very obviously prefers the new person they married 😭

GOOD I LOVE ANGSTY ASKS, THIS WAS SO HEART WRENCHING TO WRITE

ODETTE::

Her heart would shatter in the wake of such a heart-wrenching turn of events. Her once-idyllic love story would be tarnished by the painful reality of feeling abandoned and replaced. While her compassionate nature might initially lead her to suppress her own hurt in favour of supporting MC's choices, the stark contrast in their interactions and the palpable affection MC shows to the new spouse would leave her feeling devastated. Odette would grapple with a tumult of emotions – betrayal, insecurity, and a profound sense of loss. Despite her inner turmoil, she might summon her strength to maintain a composed facade, but the weight of unrequited love and the longing for the connection they once shared would be an ache that lingers deep within her. She would likely confide her turmoil to her journal, the ink capturing the rawness of her emotions in eloquent prose, a private refuge for her shattered heart.

"Love can be a beacon that guides us through the darkest storms, yet when that light fades, it leaves behind a shadow of what once was. My heart, though tested by the tides of change, shall forever remember the love we shared, even if it now feels like a distant echo in the winds of time." 😭

NESRIN:

She would initially mask her hurt and confusion, drawing upon her ability to conceal emotions. While she might maintain her composed exterior, the sharp glint in her eyes might reveal the turmoil within. Privately, she would analyse the situation, questioning her own role and importance in MC's life. Her strategic mind would kick into overdrive as she considers potential motives behind MC's behaviour, meticulously weighing the implications for their relationship. In a moment of vulnerability, she might confront MC discreetly, her voice a mix of controlled disappointment and raw honesty. Her words would be chosen carefully, expressing the depth of her feelings and seeking an explanation for the sudden shift. Nesrin's actions would reflect her determination to understand the situation, and while she may not show it openly, the pain of being sidelined would linger beneath her graceful facade.

"In the intricate dance of power and affection, my steps falter as I find myself relegated to the shadows, watching a symphony of hearts unfold. Tell me, my love, was I but a pawn in this grand design?"😔

VERENA:

Verena would initially mask her pain behind a façade of indifference, her pride preventing her from revealing her true emotions. Internally, a whirlwind of emotions would stir - hurt, betrayal, and a sense of abandonment. Her sharp mind would analyse the situation, identifying the political motivations and potential threats. However, her calculated demeanour might waver as she witnesses MC's affection for the new spouse. She would confront the MC with a mixture of coldness and vulnerability, her voice laced with a hint of bitterness. Her words would hold a subtext of hurt, reflecting her struggle to reconcile her love for MC with the reality of their changed dynamic. As a response, she might distance herself emotionally, rekindling her own political alliances and subtly asserting her independence, refusing to be overshadowed (returning to being the old Verena).

"I see you've found a new favourite pastime, my love. I hope this arrangement serves your ambitions well." 🤧

JASIRA:

Her heart would shatter as the painful reality sinks in. Her once unbreakable bond with MC, now her spouse, feels like a distant memory. The affectionate gestures and intimate moments they once shared are replaced by the cold emptiness of neglect. Jasira's strong-willed nature would initially drive her to confront the situation head-on, questioning MC's actions and seeking answers. Fuelled by a mix of hurt and determination, she might express her feelings of abandonment, refusing to be sidelined. However, she would soon realize that her efforts fall on deaf ears, as MC's focus remains firmly fixed on their new spouse. Struggling to reconcile her feelings, Jasira might withdraw emotionally, her once passionate love turning to a simmering mix of resentment and sadness. Her pride might keep her from begging for attention, yet her heart longs for the return of the affection she once cherished. With a heavy heart, Jasira could find herself at a crossroads, torn between the love she still holds for the MC and the need to prioritize her own well-being and happiness.

"Love that fades so easily was never love at all. Your affections may wane, but my strength remains unshaken. I won't linger in the shadows of your neglect, for I am worth far more than an afterthought."😤

SORIN:

Her heart would shatter as she witnesses MC's affection and attention shift towards their new spouse. A complex mix of hurt, confusion, and disbelief would cloud her expressive green eyes. Her instinctive reaction might be to withdraw, her walls of self-preservation rising higher than ever. She'd struggle with a whirlwind of emotions, torn between confronting the situation and maintaining her pride. Yet, in the quiet solitude of her thoughts, Sorin would grapple with the heartache of feeling replaced, a stark contrast to the once-unbreakable bond they shared.

"Love's betrayal leaves scars deeper than the past. I've learned the price of vulnerability, and I won't surrender my heart again to a fleeting promise." 😠

AURELIA/N:

Aurelia/n's heartache would be palpable as s/he navigates the painful reality of her/his beloved MC's shifting affections. Concealing her/his inner turmoil behind a composed facade, s/he'd continue to carry out her/his duties with unwavering determination. In private moments, her/his eyes might betray the longing s/he feels, and bittersweet smiles would replace the once joyful ones. Her/his conversations with the MC could subtly echo her/his sadness, veiled by a facade of understanding. Despite the ache, Aurelia/n's resilience prevails, allowing her/him to maintain her/his strength and dignity even as her/his heart remains quietly shattered.

"A heart once cherished can't help but ache in the shadows of change." 😥

DORIA/N:

S/he, once deeply in love and now heartbroken, confronts the painful reality with her/his signature stoicism masking a whirlwind of emotions. Underneath her/his tough exterior, resentment simmers as s/he grapples with the overwhelming sense of abandonment. Her/his cynicism intensifies, distrust now colouring her/his view of love. In her/his anguish, s/he adopts a veneer of indifference, determined to protect herself from further hurt. The torment drives her/him to seek solace in fleeting affairs, a tumultuous attempt to cope and perhaps evoke a reaction from MC. A mix of bitterness and longing taints her/his actions, as s/he battles the raw ache of being replaced, her/his heart shattered by the one who was meant to mend it.

"You made a grand show of love, only to trade me like a pawn in your royal game. I should have known affection was just another mask you wear." 😒

HANNIEL:

He would be deeply devastated and heartbroken if he found himself in a marriage with MC, where their once strong love and connection seemed to diminish. His sense of loyalty and unwavering affection for MC would make the situation all the more painful. While he would try to maintain his composed exterior, internally he would be struggling with a whirlwind of emotions. He might feel a mix of confusion, hurt, and a profound sense of loss. His innate sense of self-worth might take a hit as he questions why MC's affection seems to have shifted. He might quietly observe from the sidelines, struggling to reconcile his feelings with the reality of the situation. His sentimentality could lead him to hold onto cherished memories of their past, and he might express his emotions through bittersweet conversations or subtle gestures, desperately longing for a rekindling of the deep bond they once shared.

"I thought our love was a promise, not a fading dream."🥺

DAMON:

Damon's heart would shatter as he witnesses the love he thought was unbreakable crumble before his eyes. He'd be torn between hurt and confusion, struggling to comprehend the sudden distance. Though devastated, he wouldn't give up easily. Damon's determination would drive him to confront MC, seeking answers and fighting for their connection. He'd pour his heart out, expressing his pain and reminding them of the profound bond they once shared. While facing the reality of MC's choices, Damon's love would remain unwavering, and he'd persistently strive to rekindle what was lost, refusing to let go without a fight.

"Love doesn't vanish like a fleeting shadow. Our bond was built on something real, something deeper than passing fancy. I refuse to believe that what we shared has lost its spark. I'll stand in the storm if I must, fight against whatever stands between us. No matter the odds, I won't let go, because my heart is tethered to yours, and I'll fight until it beats as one again."😟

[childofchrist1983]

At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. - Matthew 18:1-4 KJV

I noticed something when I read this Bible passage that I hadn't seen before, even though I have read it innumerable times over the years. The disciples asked Jesus Christ who was the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven, but Jesus actually answered a different question. When He called the child over, He didn't say that a child was the greatest, He said that unless you became humble as a child, you wouldn't even get into the Kingdom of Heaven. That's both interesting and frightening at the same time!

We know that childlike and childish are two different things. Those who are childlike are curious, look to adults for security and wisdom. Those who are childish want everything their own way and they want it NOW! Jesus is telling us that we need to look to the Heavenly Father for guidance, security and wisdom. We need to depend on Him to know what we need – not want – and provide it. We look at what we have as blessings and not worry about what we don't have. We use the gifts God has given us to the best of our ability for the good of others.

Just as little children show their love for their parents with shows of affection, picking wildflowers, or making a little gift, we show God our love with our prayers, our small gifts of sacrifice and by helping bring his love to the poor and the vulnerable of our society. When we are rich in the love of God and the knowledge of salvation, what more do we need? Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the riches of His blessings and of His gift of grace that is our eternal salvation. May we always be His humble and loving children, always trusting in Him and grateful for all He has done for us.

Thank God for His strength and guidance when we are faced with sin and temptation. Thank Him for His mercy and grace. Through Bible study and prayer, God reveals His wisdom and guides us to see opportunities to grow closer to Him and grow spiritually. He gives us direction to live our lives according to His Holy Word and will. We must make God top priority everyday! May we be motivated to spread God's Holy Word and Gospel Truth to all the Earth, knowing that it is the only hope of all those lost in their sins. Let us not hold out a false hope for men to be saved without the Gospel, but instead, strive to do our part to get the Gospel out to a lost and dying world.

Leaning on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit strengthens us and our knowledge and wisdom about God and His Gospel Truth, exposing these imposters. May God help us to seek and lean on Him daily to gain the strength, wisdom and spiritual discernment needed to expose Satan and his imposters who seek to destroy us and God's ultimate Truth. Everyday, we must remember to share Jesus Christ's Gospel Truth with the world and to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[theprayerfulword]

June 20

Romans 12:12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer.

Psalm 68:4-5 Sing unto God, sing praises to His name: extol Him that rideth upon the heavens by His name Jah, and rejoice before Him. 5 A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in His holy habitation.

1 Peter 4:10 Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received.

Matthew 6:20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Job 2:10 Will we receive good from God but not also receive bad?

Isaiah 8:17 I will wait for the Lord, … I will put my trust in Him.

May your fellowship with the wayward not extend to include their ways. 1 Kings 22

May you minister in love to the material needs of those God brings to you before you speak His truth in kindness to minister to their spiritual needs. 1 Kings 22

May you walk in the grace of God, restrained and motivated by the Word of God, so you will respond from the Spirit when attacked in the flesh, for the sinful nature is always hostile toward God. 1 Kings 22, Romans 8

May you know that, though you are basely used by the wayward, God's judgments against their sin are inescapable apart from repentance. 1 Kings 22

May you do good in the eyes of the Lord, not following the ways of those who do evil by causing others to sin, but serve and worship the Lord God Almighty, knowing that the enemy of your soul will be provoked to anger. 1 Kings 22

May your ministry be of Christ, Who was crucified by men, buried by friends, and resurrected by God, giving victory over death and the hope of eternal life. Acts 13

Just as David served his generation, may you serve yours in the strength and the power of Christ, Who has served all generations, shedding His love abroad through all who yield to and follow after His will. Acts 13

May you first know, and second share, the forgiveness of sin through faith in Christ's atonement without injury to God's honor, and the justification from guilt, which the law gave awareness of, but the gospel gives atonement for. Acts 13

My child, the enemy desires to separate you from Me as a farmer sifts the husks from the grain, but know, My precious one, that I am in charge of the flail and I control the winnowing basket. Be assured that the chaff will be burned in My fire, but not the least grain of My harvest shall fall to the ground to be lost. There is much separation going on in your life, My dear one. I have spoken of it, and it must come to pass. In the field of your heart, My enemy sowed tares, and you have struggled to know why the springs of your soul bring forth both fresh water and salt. The growing season is not the time of separation; the harvest is the time appointed. The husks and chaff are those who have no grounding, who have sought the entertainment and joys of the flesh and emotions; but as you have sought Me, you have formed full, solid grains that will not be blown about by every wind of doctrine which scatters. I have been drawing you by My Spirit to a closer walk, a deeper relationship, a more intimate knowledge of Me, not just knowing My acts, My near one, but understanding My ways. You have responded, My eager one, by growing and maturing, storing up the richness of My Word and gathering the strength and life of My Spirit, ripening into a bountiful harvest that I can rejoice over. There is, at the same time, a separation among the people in your life, My caring one, for though I have allowed the young plants to grow mixed in the field, those who have chosen repeated and persistently to reject My water of life and My sun of strength, are destined for separation, binding, and burning. The grief in your heart for those headed that way is My grief, My sorrowful one. Allow it to express itself in tears and sorrow, with intercession and prayers for mercy and grace, knowing it is My Spirit crying through you in effectual, fervent prayer, for in this manner will the last harvest be the greatest, and many will be saved, as by fire. All who will receive Me will be kept, for they are precious to Me, just as you are. No more than a shepherd would lose a sheep, a jeweler a single diamond, or a mother one of her children, however many she has, so I gather each of you under My wings in love. Do not let the striking of the flail be a terror to you, nor the ups and downs of life which blow the chaff from you. Cleansing is needed, My love, but as you cling to Me, you are in no danger.

May you praise the Lord, the Almighty God, with all your heart and sing praise to Him before those mighty in the world and possessing authority among men, bowing down in worship to the Father Who, through His love, has defeated all His foes and, through His faithfulness, has rescued you from the grave, for He has exalted above all things His Name and His Word, making you bold and stouthearted when you call upon Him. Psalm 138

May the words you speak unto the kings of the earth about the glory of God bring forth praise from them to the Lord, Who is great. Psalm 138

May you walk before the Lord, Who is on high, in humility, for He looks with favor upon the lowly, though the proud He knows from afar. Psalm 138

May the Lord preserve your life, though you walk in the midst of trouble, for He stretches out His hand against the anger of His foes and will save you by His right hand. Psalm 138

May the Lord fulfill His purpose for you, for the love of the Lord endures forever and He will not abandon the works of His hands. Psalm 138

Even as you have found Christ to be the Friend Who is always loyal, loving at all times and closer than a brother in times of adversity, may you express the same bonds of love, compassion, grace, and acceptance to those who need it, as He leads you and works through you. Proverbs 17:17

May you look to God for wisdom in your decisions and compassion in your actions, seeking the way which leads to life and not relying on your own understanding of good and evil. Proverbs 17:18

[tsukkiseasalt]

ours | w. ushijima / a. azumane

warning: threesome, creampie, chubby reader, praise kink, throat fucking, cum eating

a small sigh escaped your lips as you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror. ‘do i really want to go through this’ you thought to yourself. yes you wanted to get fit for your own well-being and be able to finally fully love the woman looking back at you in the mirror, but you really despised cardio days. your breast never fully stayed in your bra, your shorts always rode up your thighs, and you could barely run 800 meters before you felt like your chest was gonna cave. it wasn’t a pretty sight, and you hated that considering that your trainer was the most handsome man to ever grace the earth.

glancing down at the time you forced yourself out of the bathroom & into the gym.

looking around you spotted asahi leaned against the treadmill tapping away at his phone. “hi.” you say small smile making itself home on your face.

“hey beautiful.” he mumbled pulling you into a hug. a sense of comfort washed over you at his kind gesture. asahi always knew how to make you feel better. he was a sweet, gentle, and motivated man who always encouraged you to push yourself. “we’re gonna do something a bit different if that’s ok with you.”

“of course.” you exclaim nodding eager to do anything but run on that god forsaken treadmill.

“k, follow me.” he says strutting towards the back rooms. this gave you a moment to admire his build. he had strong shoulder that were put on flaunted by his sleeveless top, and his toned legs and muscular thighs were on display thanks to his tight black shorts. this was all thanks to volleyball of course. he had mentioned that he played regularly and that’s where he learned that fitness was his passion.

“right in here my lady.” he says holding the door open for you. mumbling a quiet “thanks” you entered the room only to be greeted by another male.

“ah ushijima, you made it. nice to see you man.” asahi spoke giving him a handshake.

“nice to see you as well azumane. i presume this is her.” he said motioning in your direction. a blush graced itself across your cheeks at the acknowledgment.

“yes, this is her,” asahi smiled wrapping an arm around your shoulders.”y/n this is wakatoshi ushijima, he is a friend of mine, and he’s gonna help us today with the workout.” 

“nice to meet you.” you say reaching out a hand. grabbing it he bought it up to his lips and placed a light kiss onto it all while maintaining eye contact.

“likewise.” he says a smile small playing on his lips, and butterflies immediately filled your stomach. glancing over at asahi you seen a slight smirk on his lips.

“so, shall we begin?” wakatoshi questioned.

“yeah, we’ll start by stretching.” asahi spoke.

you began by going down to touch your toes and continuing with your usual stretches. you eyes inevitably began to wonder and you sucked in a breath as they landed on ushijima. his hands were above his head and he was doing a shoulder stretch allowing his shirt to ride up and reveal a  sliver of his v-line. you quickly adverted your gaze to asahi who was doing a similar stretch, but your eyes landed a little further down on his bulge. you immediately began to wonder what it would feel like if it was blocking your airways as he stroked your hair and cooed soft praises at how good a girl you were. your eyes shot down to look at your feet as you shifted in hope to ease the sensation that was slowly starting to build between your legs.

“so, how did you two meet?” you wondered out loud hoping that it would shake these filthy thoughts that filled your mind.

“volleyball.” ushijima said ceasing his stretches. ”in high school we played one another and we play the same position so it was quite the natural rivalry for a while.”

“as time went on though we slowly began to actually like one another though.” asahi added curtly finishing his own stretches as well. 

“what position did you play?” you asked genuinely curious.

“ace.” they both said in unison, eyes going to each other before they both burst into laughter.

“anyways, we should probably start. so instead of do the usual today we are going to do a circuit workout that i feel like will be mush more beneficial than just running a stupid treadmill. firstly, you will begin here with 50 jump ropes...” you began to get lulled by asahi’s calming voice as he explained all of the things that you would be doing. you became entranced as wakatoshi demonstrated each of the flawlessly, his insane athletism on full display. “...finally you will end with another 50 jump ropes but instead of doing them regularly you are going to do 25 on your right and the remaining 25 on your left ok. your going to do this four times total and each time through toshi and i will do them with you. we can rest after the first two k.” 

“k.” you said beginnng to feel slightly nervous about doing these exercise in front of them. walking to the jump ropes you picked up the shorter of the three of them as they grabbed the other two on your side. 

“we’ll start whenever your ready doll.” asahi said lightly and with a sigh you began. 

the circuit wasn’t too bad but you had a little trouble doing the burpees so they showed you how to do a modified version that was just as affective. the second set though you began to feel the affects of the weighted lunges you were doing on your quads. 

“come on baby doll you can do it” ushijima said as you all began on the finishing jump ropes. “your doing so good princess.” asahi muttered as you finished your last 10. 

“good job.” asahi cooed giving you a high five as toshi gave you a pat on the back. “very good job.” he agreed as you all drank your water. you couldnt help the smile that was plastered across your face as there constant words of encouragement filled you with immense joy.

“ready to get started again doll?” asahi asked throwing his water back onto the ground. 

“mhm.” you answered placing your own back down much more gently than he had. grabbing the jump ropes you began the third set.

by the time you got do doing your last set of jump ropes you felt like your legs had 45 lbs weights attached to them. with a groan you dropped the jump rope and plopped onto the ground.

“i am so proud of you baby girl, you did so well today.” asahi said going to grab your bottle of water. sighing heavily toshi sat down beside you and place a gentle hand onto your thigh rubbing it lovingly. you couldnt help but notice how large his hands were on your thighs making them appear as if they were normal. 

“here.” asahi said handing you your water.

“thank you.” you say gratefully taking it, turning it up and downing the remaining liquid. closing your eyes you evened out your once rigid breathes tensing up when you felt a body press against your back. you turned to see asahi seated behind you his chest pressed against your back with his legs spread around your own. 

“ready to stretch?” he whispered into your ear causing goosebumps to litter themselves all over your body. nodding meekly his hands intertwine with yours and he leans foward pushing you down as well. he pushed your hands out in front of you as you both went down stopping when your breast were pressed onto the ground. you let out a sigh of relief as you felt the relief in your lower back. he counted to fifteen before rising back up.

as you sat up you saw toshi sitting in front of you legs spread with his hands out in front of you similar to your previous postition. 

“you gonna grab my hands and im gonna pull you down ok. its like the stretch your previously did but im gonna pull instead of him pushing down on you okay doll.” he explained. nodding you reached for his hands and he pulled you down. closing your eyes as you went down finally opening when he stopped pulling only to be eye level with his dick. swallowing you looked up at him finding his eyes were glued on you with a smirk plastered onto his face. almost simultaneously asahi shifts forward pulling you into his lap causing a lewd moan to escape your lips.

“fuck baby, does it feel good?” ushijima questions moving one of your hands to rub it over his now hard cock. 

“you feel that baby girl, thats all for you.” ushijima growls lowly. “and i think you did an absolutely terrific job today dont you asahi?”

“totally, i think our baby deserves a special treat for her hard work.” asahi agrees letting one of his hands snake around your waist and rub your pussy.

“me too.” toshi groans as he pulls himself out his shorts. letting go of your hand he pushed himself from the floor and stood in front you. he stroked himself lazily as he grabbed your chin and forced your eyes to lock with his. biting his lip he moaned when you reached out and took him into your own hands smearing precum all over the head of his cock. 

you mewled out in pleasure as you felt asahi’s thick finger push into your slick cunt. 

“god your such a good girl.” he whispered peppering light kisses on your neck as he added a second finger and started going faster. savoring your own pleasure you leaned forward and licked toshi’s slit where a constant supply of precum oozed out. you finally opened your mouth and began sucking heavily on his tip eager to taste as much of him as possible.

“fuck baby girl, just like that.” he moaned as his large hand moved to the back of your head pushing you forward in encouragement. 

you let out a loud moan as you felt asahi’s cock rub against your slick cunt. he pushed your shorts down to your knees and pulled your legs on either side of his thighs. rubbing his tip against your folds you closed your eyes and took toshi’s cock into your mouth fully. as his cock reached the back of your throat asahi snapped his hips foward and filled you with his cock making you go further down and gag on toshi’s cock.

“you feel so good baby girl, your cunt is so fucking tight on my cock.” asahi moaned as he gripped at your thighs thrusting himself into you again. “such a perfect fit baby. you are perfect.” he coos in your ear.

you moan as you pumps himself in and out of you, trying your best to focus on the large cock in your mouth. you place one of your hands on his hip and the other you let fondle with his balls. you pull of his cock and saliva drips down your chin and onto the dark floor below you as you take his balls into your mouth and suck on them.

“fuck!” he moans eyes rolling back as he basks in the pleasure. “your doing such a good job sucking my cock baby. keeping going” you moan on him as you feel asahi begin to hit you sweet spot over and over and before you get a chance to to even warn him you squirt all over his cock. 

“FUCK.” he yells burying his cock deep in your cunt as he fills you with his cum.

toshi’s cock studders in your mouth and he roughly grabs your hair as he buries his cock deep in your throat, his balls rubbing your chin as he empties himself into your throat with an animalist growl. you greedily swallow up as much as possible before he pulls out and some of it escapes your lips and drips down your lips.

breathing heavily you all attempt to regain your composure. just as you manage to even out your breathing toshi’s large hand gently gently grabs your chin and makes you look at him. a smile makes its way onto his face as he looks at you. 

“your face is even prettier convered in my cum. look asahi isn’t she even more beautiful.” 

forcing your face around asahi takes a look at you and nods in agreement. blushing your force yourself to look away only to be wheeled back around by asahi who places a light kiss on your lips. you moan as he deepens it and grind against him. 

“hey, calm down baby. time is up for today but don’t you worry, we’re gonna savor the rest of your beautiful body next week.” you only nod in response a small pout making itself home on your face. you never thought you’d say it but you couldn't wait to workout the next week.

this is like my fave duo but i wrote this while listening to punk goes pop :) feel free to like and reblog also how would you feel if i started taking requests?! k byeeee

[leiawritesstories]

As I Am, 10

Summary: London, England, 1816, early spring. The opening of the Season is every year’s most anticipated event in high society, especially among the young ladies. This Season has been predicted to be one of the most promising yet, given that the debutantes include Miss Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Misses Nesta, Elain, and Feyre Archeron, Miss Elisa Selvari, Miss Elide Lochan, and many more. Not to mention that His Grace Rowan Whitethorn, the newly ascended Duke of Doranelle, shall be in town with his companions. Where shall the Season lead? We have yet to find out, but as with all Seasons, there will be parties, promenades, dancing and dining, a profusion of flowers in each young lady’s parlour, and of course, scandal.

STORY WARNINGS: language, arranged marriages and other 19th-century problems, eventual fighting, eventual smut

Inspired quite a lot by Bridgerton and Pride and Prejudice. Unknown chapter count. Characters are from Throne of Glass and ACOTAR, as well as various other characters from various other authors. I’ll credit them as they appear, and if anyone is unfamiliar, please go check out their books!

CHARACTER LIST                  MASTERLIST

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: bit of language, Perrington, mention of death, one serving of angst, mentions of potential prostitution 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arm in arm with Elisa, Feyre strolled through the park, nodding and smiling at everyone who passed by, especially the gentlemen. Elisa nudged her with an elbow. “Are you even listening, Feyre?”

Feyre shook herself out of her thoughts. “I’m afraid I was not,” she admitted, flushing a little.

“Dreaming of my brother, no doubt,” Elisa smirked. 

“No comment,” Feyre muttered, the flush on her cheeks turning pinker. 

“I will not judge you, Feyre.” She winked. “After all, he is both handsome and rich, and I must admit he does know how to woo a lady.”

“Not according to his letters, he does not,” Feyre murmured, half to herself.

“What?”

“Not according to his--”

“Letters, yes, I heard that. But the brother I know is more of a man of action than of letter-writing.”

“And by action you mean flirting ladies into a quiet alcove?”

“Indeed I do.” The two exchanged knowing grins. “But he is a good man, despite his exterior. And if he is writing to you…I certainly hope that means his intentions are true.”

“As do I.” Feyre smiled into the middle distance, her mind wandering for a moment. She jerked herself back out of her thoughts. “And what of you? Has Lord Fenrys been back?” It was her turn to smirk.

“Indeed he has. Twice.” Elisa sounded immensely pleased. “Rhys did not like him, for some inexplicable reason, but I believe Mamma has talked some sense into him. If such a thing is possible.”

“Has he said anything that may reveal what he about Lord Fenrys he does not like?”

“Rhys called him a rake when he first came to call.”

“An extraordinary case of the pot calling the kettle black,” Feyre scoffed.

“Quite.” Elisa chuckled. “I told him just that.”

“As you should have.”

“Ah, you are so lucky to not have an elder brother,” Elisa sighed. “He is rather more overbearing than Mamma, and I did not even think that possible.”

“Indeed, but I do have a father who is almost as bad as three mammas, for all his grand schemes to marry us all off to his rich friends.”

“Goodness, I had no idea your father had those motives!”

“Sadly, he does.” Feyre sighed heavily. “I only hope he allows Elain to keep seeing the Prince, for they seemed quite well matched at the ball. And His Highness did express an intent to visit.”

~

“I simply feel trapped,” Aelin concluded, “trapped by my own family and even by my sense of duty. I do not wish to disappoint my parents, but at the same time, I cannot allow myself to be this degraded.”

“And your parents have heard your side of the argument?”

“Multiple times, yes. Mamma seems to sympathize, but she will not try to persuade Father to change his mind. I do not know why.”

“I…I do not know what to say, Aelin. I am sorry.”

“It is all right, Nesta, just being able to rant to someone has helped.” Aelin gave her friend a grateful smile. 

“Then I am happy to have helped.” Nesta returned the smile. “I wish I could advise you to just punch the bastard, but I am afraid you would seriously injure him if you did.”

Despite herself, Aelin cackled. “I could always ask you to punch him for me, though with your expertise, that might actually kill the oily bugger.”

From the tent a short distance away, Evalin gestured to her daughter. Aelin smothered a groan. “I must go and be sociable,” she sighed. “Thank you, Nesta.”

“I shall see you tomorrow.” Nesta squeezed Aelin’s arm and left. 

Aelin went back over to her mother. “Yes, Mamma?”

“Your Father and Perrington are walking over.” Evalin placed a hand gently atop her daughter’s. “Fireheart, I do not like the match any more than you, but I…” She trailed off.”

“Why have you not spoken to Father, then?” Aelin struggled to keep her emotions in check.

“Your father has his mind set on this, I know not why, and he becomes extremely testy if I mention anything about the marriage he arranged.” Evalin sighed, tamping down the flurry of emotion behind her eyes. 

“All right, then, I shall try to be civil.” Impulsively, Aelin hugged her mother. 

“That’s my Fireheart.” Evalin murmured, hugging her daughter tightly.

Scarcely had they settled onto their chairs when Rhoe and Perrington arrived. “Viscountess,” the duke said, bowing ornately over her hand. “My lovely intended,” he greeted Aelin. She did her utter best not to gag at the smarminess of his tone. 

“Your Grace,” she responded, perfectly bland. Lord save me from this torment, she inwardly grumbled.

~

Rowan was walking with Gavriel, discussing business, when the older man’s gaze flicked to one of the many tents set up in the park. “Is there someone you recognize, Gav?”

“Only the Galathynius family, Rowan.” That caught his attention. He turned onto the path that led by that tent, Gavriel following. “Interested in seeing Miss Galathynius?” He caught the humor in Gav’s voice.

“As interested as anyone is to say hello to a friendly, cultured young lady,” he returned.

“Naturally,” Gavriel commented dryly. “It has nothing whatsoever to do with your attachment to said young lady.”

“You know far too much about me,” Rowan grumbled.

As they drew closer, he saw that Aelin was once again engaged in conversation with Duke Alan of Perrington, an associate of her father’s and even a few years older than Rhoe Galathynius. And she looked none too engaged in that conversation; her face had settled into what Rowan recognized as the polite mask she wore whenever she did not wish to talk to whomever was talking to her. He continued walking with Gavriel, hoping that they would be able to merely pass with a nod rather than have to stop and speak, but Rhoe caught sight of them.

“Ah, Your Grace!” he called. “Captain,” he acknowledged Gavriel.

“Viscount Galathynius,” Gavriel bowed. “Evalin,” he said fondly, bowing to Aelin’s mother. Rowan, having made his greetings, looked sharply at Gavriel. 

“You know Viscountess Ashryver?”

“Aedion Ashryver, her nephew, is my son,” Gavriel replied. “You remember Elena, of course?”

“Of course,” Rowan said, softly. Gavriel was referring to his wife, who had passed away some fifteen years ago. 

“She was Evalin’s sister,” Gavriel explained. 

“Ah.” That explains the familiarity, he thought. “Perrington,” he greeted the other duke.

“Doranelle,” Perrington returned, dipping his head. 

“You are familiar with my daughter’s betrothed, then?” Rhoe inquired.

Rowan kept his face calm, but inside, his mind went wild. Betrothed. Aelin…betrothed?  “I am. I must confess, my lord, that I was unaware of his betrothal to Miss Galathynius.”

“We are keeping the news quiet, for now,” Rhoe explained. “It is a recent occurrence, and we do not wish Aelin’s enjoyment of the Season ruined by gossip about her nuptials.”

“A wise decision.” Rowan’s eyes met Aelin’s, reading a quickly stifled flash of panic and burning anger in their turquoise depths. “Lovely to see you all, but I fear we must be on our way. Good day.” He and Gavriel left.

Once they were nearly back to where they had left their horses, Gavriel stopped and faced Rowan. “Whitethorn. Settle down.”

“I am fine,” he gritted out.

“The tension in your posture says otherwise.”

Rowan went silent for a moment, and then, “He signed Aelin over to that sack of shit like so much property, Gav.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“What?”

“Rowan, I know you love Aelin. You know you love Aelin. What are you going to do about this?”

“I--” he swung himself up onto his horse. “I am going to write Aelin a letter.”

~

Aelin and her parents returned home after having a late dinner with Elide and her parents. “A letter for Miss Aelin,” their butler said, handing her a crisp ivory envelope. 

“From whom?” Rhoe asked. 

Aelin scanned the handwriting. “It is from Rebecca, my old roommate from finishing school,” she replied, smiling cheerfully. A lie. The letter was, of course, from Rowan; they had agreed that any correspondence he sent through the mail would be disguised as mail from a friend of hers. 

“How lovely,” her father smiled. “Good night, Fireheart.”

“Good night,” she returned. “Good night, Mamma.” She ascended the stairs, went into her room, locked the door, and sat at her desk to read Rowan’s letter.

Aelin,

I must confess I am in shock. You, betrothed? To Perrington of all men? I do not know how this came about, but I would like to know, if you are willing to share that with me. I have been half out of my mind since I returned home from seeing you and your family in the park. Gavriel and the others have constantly been telling me to stop pacing like a damned aggravated animal, but I cannot stop. My mind is whirling. I must see you, Aelin; I must speak with you. I fear I shall go mad if I do not know more than the fact that you are betrothed. Will you meet me tonight? Please? I shall be waiting at our usual spot.

Yours always,

Rowan

Aelin went through her usual routine of pretending to go to bed, and when the house had gone silent, she slipped out her window and set off to meet her duke. As promised, he was waiting for her in the park. She all but ran to him, flinging her arms around his waist. He made a surprised exclamation, wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. 

“I thought we could talk at my mum’s house,” he murmured against her hair. Still pressed against his chest, Aelin nodded. She let him lead her to his horse, let him support her for the whole ride, let him walk her into the house. They settled down on the pile of blankets, still there from their last visit, Aelin burrowed into his side.

“Talk to me, Aelin. Please.” He combed his fingers gently through her hair, knowing the gesture helped to calm her when she was nervous.

She loosed a shuddering breath. “I hardly know what to say, Ro.”

“Start with the beginning.”

“I have only known for barely ten days. Father sprung the news upon me one morning after a ball where Perrington danced with me thrice. He was waiting in the breakfast room when I came down.”

“And you knew nothing of this before that morning?” Genuine confusion laced his voice.

“Absolutely nothing. Father had introduced me to Perrington last year, and he spoke with me several times and this year, as I am sure you know, he has danced with me at least once per ball.” She shuddered slightly. “He is not the most graceful dancer.”

“A slimy bastard like him could never be graceful,” Rowan snorted.

“Yet somehow, however in hell he managed to do it, he worked into Father’s good graces enough to accomplish…this.” Aelin’s shoulders drooped.

Rowan’s arms tightened around her. “I know this is probably a hopelessly idiotic question, but have you thought of any ways to potentially delay or escape it?”

“Short of having the man killed, no.”

“I would gladly kill the little shit for you, Aelin.”

A soft snort from Aelin. “That is not what I meant, Rowan. Though if you set out to kill the bugger, I should have to invite myself along.”

“But nothing you or Lady Evalin or anyone could do to prevent the horror of being married off?”

“So far…” Her voice trailed off. And then she inhaled sharply and sat up straight. “Wait!”

“What?”

“Father did say something that might possibly offer an option.” 

“Tell me.” He could see the gears turning in her mind.

“Until he decides to make the betrothal public knowledge, I will still be allowed to see a handful of suitors, the few men whom Father has allowed into the parlor this week. Which means that you are one of those approved suitors. Which means that as long as I keep receiving you, I can buy time against the betrothal.”

“Aelin, you are brilliant.”

“But I must ask you a question.”

“Anything.”

“Could you be my suitor long enough to be rid of Perrington forever? I…I cannot promise that I shall continue to receive suitors after we remove the smarmy ass, but I would like to have you by my side as we plot and carry out that removal.”

Rowan did not even hesitate. “Of course.”

“Truly? Even though I cannot promise to keep courting you?”

“Aelin, a courtship does not matter if I can help you achieve your freedom from society’s traps.”

She wiped tears off her cheeks. “You are far too good to me, Rowan. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured. 

They sat in the darkened rooms in silence, Aelin still curled against Rowan, for some time, Aelin’s tense posture gradually easing as she processed her plans. And then a soft snicker escaped her. Rowan raised a brow.

“Whatever is amusing you, milady?”

“Only the thought of Elide and Lord Salvaterre, milord. Have we not been successful thus far in pairing them up?”

“I believe we have. However…” A wrinkle creased his forehead. “There may be a complication.”

“Oh my dear God, what complication?”

Rowan sighed. “Lorcan is a good man, a great man, really. But he does have his vices, one of them being his, er, relationship with Essar.”

“Who the hell is Essar?”

“She is a soprano at the Royal Opera, and she is Lorcan’s, ehm, consort.” 

“How long has this been going on?” Aelin inquired, keeping her voice even.

“About three months thus far. From what Lorcan has said, I understand he sees her at least twice a week and that he has been paying for her flat’s rent. Which is surprisingly noble of him, paying the rent.”

“Hmm.” Aelin’s mind kicked into gear again. “Could it be possible that they have an arrangement?”

“What kind of arrangement do you mean?”

“Well, I have heard and read of situations where a titled man develops a friendship with a woman of lower social standing and acts as her provider, rather than simply use her for sex.”

“Knowing Lorcan as I do, I doubt that he intended for that to be the purpose of their relations. He is most certainly sleeping with her, and while that might afford Essar some sense of security, I am not inclined to believe that they are anything more than casual lovers.”

“And yet he seems quite taken with Elide. And she with him.”

“Indeed.” Rowan’s eyes went distant. “I do hope that he makes sense of his situation before Elide finds out about Essar. Something tells me she may not be as forgiving as she might seem.”

Aelin chuckled. “You would be correct.”

“Then let us hope that he never meets with Miss Lochan’s wrath.”

“Or her rather powerful left hook,” smirked Aelin.

Rowan coughed. “That, too.”

~

Back in Aelin’s neighborhood, he walked her back almost to her house, stopping a discreet distance away so as not to arouse suspicion. She rolled up onto her toes, pressing a heartfelt kiss onto his lips. After a long moment, she pulled away, her breath hitching. “Good night, Rowan.”

“Good night, Aelin,” he murmured. “I love you.”

Blinking back her tears, Aelin slipped into her room, closed and latched the window, and watched Rowan’s form walk away into the night. A right proper metaphor, she thought, my only love vanishing before my eyes.

~

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[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sea Salt: Two

Summary: As a noblewoman from a small (and nefarious) kingdom in the Stepstones and quiet Lady-in-Waiting to Princess Elia Martell, she is accustomed to being looked through rather than looked at. The only exceptions to this rule are Prince Oberyn and Lord Willas Tyrell but they are often far from the dark shadows of the Red Keep or Dragonstone. She finds comfort in her quiet friendship with the princess and the delight of the darling royal children. But as Prince Rhaegar places a wreath of blue roses in the lap of Lady Lyanna Stark and rebellion starts to rage, she knows she will have to live up to her reputation. But luckily, she seems to have two allies lurking in the shadows.

Pairing(s): Willas Tyrell/F!Reader/Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

Word Count: 24.6k (T_T)

Rating for this chapter: NC-17 for a bit of violence and mention of blood and warfare, my over-use of italics and using time jumps, and my love for ASOIAF lore. Ellaria is the only one in this relationship with a functioning braincell and reader is always happy to learn new things (ie: they have sex. they like it) If you have any questions about the lore or who is who or need clarifications, please just ask! I’m playing fast and loose with a bit of it, and a few ages, too. But I’m always happy to answer any questions you have! Thank you to everyone who was so kind about the first chapter and gave me ideas for this one. I love you. 

(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites) 

Chapter Two: Salt of the Sweat

Read Chapter One Here!

Or read this chapter on Ao3!

The quill was running dry as she finished the missive. A knock came at the door and her uncle Hammond walked in. “Are you ready?”

Y/N nodded and sealed the letter, knowing the ink would smear in her haste. She handed it off to a handmaiden to be sent as soon as they were aboard the small, unmarked ship, before bending down and gathering both Aegon and Jon into her arms with a now-practiced ease. The two babies each pushed out a hand to wrap their little fingers around the silver hanging beneath her collar, enjoying the warmth the delicate metal exuded. The sun charm glinted in the growing moonlight.

Hammond nodded, a bit sad, and kissed her forehead as he stepped to her side. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Prince Oberyn- The babes are growing strong. We depart Skilliga tonight. Thank you for the gold and for the necklace. I have sent Arthur and Dawn home with Ashara. Please be gentle with her, she is my last true friend aside from you and Willas. I do not know when I shall be able to write to you again, but I will try.

Ashara had arrived on the sharp rock shores of Skilliga only a few weeks after Arthur had come, holding a bag of gold from House Martell and a small box with a delicate silver necklace tucked inside—a long chain of braided silver and two charms hung at the bottom; a shark and a sun. It was beautiful, truly. Far more beautiful than anything Y/N had ever owned. Skilliga, for all its charms, did not favor pretty things. “Elia had the finest smith in Sunspear craft it for you—it was supposed to be your nameday present.” Her smile was sad. “She swore me to secrecy, you know. Wanted it to be a surprise.”

And the babies were fond of it, too. Their little hands always searched for it when she held them and she would dangle it above their cribs when they would fuss at night, letting the moonlight catch the polished silver. They seemed to like it.

My Prince- Rhaenys has taken to reading to the boys at night—I think she has memorized the story you sent. It hardly leaves her side. It was the book your mother read to you and Elia when you were younger, was it not? Filled with sparkling waters and talking turtles. She grows stronger and brighter every day. I know you would be proud of her. I know Elia would be, too. I miss her more than words can say. I try to tell Aegon and Elia all I know of her, and I tell Jon what I can of Lyanna, but I feel I am a poor replacement for their true mothers. I know you and Prince Doran are biding your time and I have taken your advice to not stay in one place for too long. But I do hope I am able to see you again soon.

She spent her lonely nights reading about the history she was not taught in Skilliga—of the flight of the Targaryens to Dragonstone before the Doom, of Garin the Great of the Rhoynar, of magic she did not know could be real. All of it. The world seemed so much smaller and larger now, somehow at the same time.

Her book snapped shut at the sound of one of the boys starting to cry in their bassinet. She rose from her cushioned chair and stepped toward their room, ready to help soothe him but was unsurprised when she saw Rhaenys leaning over Aegon’s crib, humming a little tune as she rubbed at her brother’s tummy, a move Elia was fond of when her children were fussy—Rhaenys must have seen Elia do it before…well, before. Aegon’s cries quickly quieted and Y/N smiled at Rhaenys who looked a little bashful as she turned and spotted her in the doorway.

“Would you like some honeyfingers, sunshine?”

Lord Willas- Lys was strange. But it kept Aegon safe—his silver hair did not look out of place here. But Rhaenys did. A man at the market spotted her—tried to steal her from my arms and screamed of how the Usurper would grant him gold and titles if he brought her back to Westeros. I lost my favorite dagger in his neck. We set sail in just a few moments.

Pentos had been next. And a handful of years passed in the shadows of a Pentoshi tower. The children still kept close to her, hiding behind her legs in the market when someone walked too close or looked too long. But they were growing each day.

Balerion, who was now very large and very mean to anyone he did not like, was the one constant in their lives, it seemed. He had grown even meaner since they had started to travel through Essos, purring contentedly only if in the laps of Rhaenys or her brothers—he would only grace Y/N with his presence when Rhaenys was busy with her studies and he knew not to disturb her and Jon and Aegon were involved with the tutors she managed to hire. He would curl up in her lap and she would have to remain very still if she did not want his razor sharp nails to puncture her breeches (again) in retaliation for being woken from his nap before he was fully rested.

But his fur was very soft and he made the little ones smile—she could take a few moments to breathe, nowhere to go, no one to meet, if it kept the cat happy. But today he was batting at the slip of parchment she was trying to read. It was from a Pentoshi Magistrate named Illyrio or something—Balerion had shredded the bottom—who was hoping to meet with her (and the children he had heard rumors of for ‘quite some time’) and promised more riches and more ‘protection.’ He had ulterior motives, she was sure, but she needed all the help she could find.

Balerion gave up on the shredded parchment and leapt from Y/N’s lap before stretching for a moment beside her feet. His big, fluffy head turned this way and that, as if looking for something. And then, as if on cue, Rhaenys darted out of the manse’s solar and scooped the cat up into her arms and placed a kiss on the top of his head. It earned her a rumbling purr in return.

“How would you feel about meeting someone for supper tonight, sunshine?”

My Prince- Congratulations on your newest daughter! An even eight—you must be so proud. The way you write of Ellaria is fit for songs. I know your daughters will flourish with your guiding hand. I will tell Rhaenys and Aegon of their new cousin, they are always happy to hear of their family. They miss you. I miss you.

The dinner had been just as dull and filled with lies and platitudes as any other meal they had shared with noblemen and dignitaries over the last handful of years in Essos. Illyrio was very self-assured and tried to tell Y/N that he wanted to see a Targaryen on the throne of Westeros again. “It is better for business, you see. This whole Rebellion has greatly affected my profits.”

“And that is all you care for? Profits?”

Illyrio’s smile was slimy but Y/N curled her fingers into the loose silk of her skirts to avoid reaching for the knife balanced on the edge of her plate. It would not do for her to threaten a(nother) host. “I would not be opposed to being raised to the Master of Coin when the rightful heir takes his place on the throne. It was nasty business what happened to that Dornish Princess.”

“Her name was Elia,” Y/N ground out.

“But I do suppose she served her purpose, bringing these beautiful children into the world.”

Y/N let go of her skirts and reached up to touch the knife. If he said another word, it was going into his eye and she would just steal everything she could hold. Perhaps that was a better plan than listening to him talk anyway. She glanced to her left to see Rhaenys looking down at her lap, little hands folded over her skirt. Hearing anything about her mother usually made her grow quiet and sad. Y/N, not even thinking of what it meant, moved her hand from the knife to cover Rhaenys’ hands. Providing comfort instead of violence.

(Mayhaps that could still come later.)

Rhaenys looked up at her and gave her a small smile, followed quickly by three squeezes to her fingers, a silent signal they had developed over the years to let the other know they were well.

“I swear it, your grace,” Illyrio said, staring at Aegon, another slimy smile on his face. “I will see you on your throne. You shall be king.”

“He is a child,” Y/N bit out. “Do not push him for something he cannot be sure he wants.” Aegon was barely speaking in full sentences that made sense, how could he know if he wanted some stupid crown? Just last night, Rhaenys had pulled her featherbed into her brothers’ rooms to sleep near them because they would not calm down until she was near them. He was a child. Born to royalty, yes, but a child still.

Illyrio laughed, a grating sound that had Rhaenys tightening her grip on her hand. “Of course, but you must teach him his responsibility. In secret, I know the highborn of Westeros are toasting to your survival, stitching dragons into their tapestries, and will come to your aid when you call for banners.”

That would have been a nice thought if anyone knew he was alive. Oberyn and Doran both had told her that most spoke of how they ‘knew’ Rhaenys and Aegon had been killed when the Lannisters sacked King’s Landing—and some others ‘knew’ that Lady Lyanna and her unborn babe had both died at the Tower of Joy before the end of the Rebellion. “I’ve been more preoccupied with keeping him breathing.”

“I don’t wan’ be king.”

Everyone turned to look at Aegon who seemed near tears.

“What, little one?” Y/N asked as she pulled him into her lap. His hand instantly grabbed at the necklace and he pressed his face into her shoulder.

“No king.” He sniffled and shook his head. “Rhaenee is king.”

The magistrate guffawed and Y/N once again looked at the knife. She could do it. “You will be king.” His smile did not falter. “But I do have gifts for you all.” Illyrio, unaware of how close he had come to death, waved a hand and a servant quickly came and placed a large chest on the table, rattling the cutlery and plates.

Jon startled in his little raised chair at her side but Rhaenys was immediately intrigued, even as she reached out to calm Jon with a gentle hand to his back. The lid opened and…

It was a…rock. A pretty rock, but a rock. It was a smoke color with ripples of orange and yellow. Illyrio waved a hand again, indicating she was allowed to grasp it, and she did as Aegon continued to press against her chest. It was heavier than she thought it would be and a little cold to the touch. Her eyes drifted to the small stack of gold also in the chest.

“What am I to do with this rock?” Y/N held the thing aloft with an arched eyebrow, holding back the sneer she felt growing. “Should I crack it open? Will it give me the ability to breathe life into my dearest friend’s lungs again? Will I be able to kill the usurper on the Iron Throne from across the Narrow Sea?”

“It is a dragon egg, my lady,” Illyrio said, enunciating each syllable as if that would help her understand. “Extremely valuable.”

Y/N turned and handed Rhaenys the egg, watching her little fingers curl around it immediately. She reached out and scooped out the gold and stood. The three children quickly did the same, little Aegon still in her arms and Rhaenys grabbing Jon from his chair. “I thank you for your time and meal, Magistrate. I shall think on your offer.”

Illyrio hurried to stand as well. “Yes, as their regent, I do value your opinion-”

But they were already turned away and walking out the door.

Lord Willas- I wish I could show you the gardens of Volantis. I am sure they pale in comparison to Highgarden, but they are lovely even if the people and customs are intolerable. The dried petals you hid in the folds of your last missive were a welcome surprise—a merchant woman insisted I have them turned into a perfume and it is a delightful scent. I can almost imagine the green grass and pink roses you have told me about so many times. I hope I will be able to see them soon. The air here is so heavy, it gets hard to breathe. Aegon and Jon do enjoy the elephants that the noblemen insist we ride everywhere. My sunshine likes to steer the large animal when the streets are clear, too. But please, tell me more of your home. Has your father filled the aviary with more hawks? Are the pups growing strong?

Y/N pulled the sword out of the back of the last man, listening to him gurgle on his own blood before he dropped to the worn wooden planks of the dock. Two more bodies were half submerged in the water a few paces back.

Volantis had turned on them, too. But the gold she had taken from the bodies of the would-be kidnappers (or assassins, she had not stopped to ask) would give them a little more cushion when they arrived in Lorath.

“Y/N?” Rhaenys called out from her hiding spot on the small ship docked just behind her. Her head appeared over the railing of the boat as Y/N wiped the blood off her sword onto her breeches before placing it back in its scabbard. “Did you get the pomegranates?”

Y/N turned and shuffled back a few steps to pick up the large bag she had dropped in the scuffle and held it up with a smile, ignoring how she could feel blood drying on her face. “I did, sunshine!”

Little Shark- Ellaria has been insistent that I introduce you as soon as we are able. I believe you would make dangerous friends. Lorath may not be the most exciting of places to hide, but I know you and the little ones will be safe. My family owes you a great debt. Doran has had to stop me from loading up my family and sailing to wherever you have landed. I have dreamt of you, little shark. I remember how you would smile and laugh. I remember how the scent of the sea seemed to be pressed into your skin. All of this has haunted me. You have haunted me.

Rhaenys was fond of just holding the silly little dragon egg and seemed to find a strange comfort by simply being near it, even as the years continued to trickle by and the stone egg was unchanged. “It feels warm, does it not?” She asked, holding out the egg toward Y/N.

But it did not feel warm to Y/N as she brushed her fingers against the strange orange ripples. It felt like cold rock. “Maybe I do not have the magic touch,” she said with a wink.

“Rhaenys!” They both turned at the shout of her name. Aegon and Jon, now seven and eight, rushed toward them. Little wooden swords clutched in their hands and their trousers covered in dirt. She had left them, only momentarily, to whack at each other in their garden.

Rhaenys was nearly bowled over by her brothers as they leapt at her and she tried to catch them, always protective. “What troubles you?” She asked as she managed to right them, batting away their swords as they absentmindedly still held them pointed up, ready to spar, while still holding onto her precious dragon egg.

“There is a strange man at the door.”

Ice went down Y/N’s spine and she hurried to push the children toward the back of the room, hiding them away in the back of the wardrobe. She handed Rhaenys a blade of her own, barely larger than the girl’s hand. “Remember what I taught you, sunshine?”

“Eyes, throat, thigh,” Rhaenys said, voice shaking just the slightest bit.

“Yes. And do not come out until I come for you.” She kissed each of them on the forehead and shut the door quietly, hoping against hope that it would not be the last time she would see them. But she steeled herself and patted at her breeches, feeling the four hidden blades there, and then the other four hidden in her tunic. She would fight. She would fight until her last breath.

Slowly but with her head held high, Y/N made her way toward the door and braced for the worst—a haggard Westerosi knight in search of gold and glory. A Braavosi bravo who wanted adventure across the Narrow Sea. A Sorrowful Man. A Faceless Man.

She peeked outside the window nearest the door and frowned. The man standing outside looked familiar and the longer she stared at him, the more she realized she knew him. A knight who had stuck to the Mad King’s side every time she had been forced to go to the Red Keep.

A Targaryen loyalist.

Maybe.

Slowly, she opened the door and stared at him. Willem Darry looked haggard—near death. He smelt like it, too.

“I have been searching for you,” he said, voice rough on her ears.

“What do you want, Darry?”

“I know that you have the little dragons.”

“You are mistaken.” Her hand started to inch toward the knife she had at her back. She could kill him. It could be quick and most people would not bat an eye at a bit of spilled blood. She needed to keep the children safe.

“I’m not. Queen Rhaella told me of a missive Elia wrote to her brother before the Sack of King’s Landing.”

Her hand curled around the hilt. “I know of no such letter.”

“I do not care of what you do or do not know. I am here because I need you. They need you.” He turned and called out for something—she did not care to listen. But the gate at the edge of her property opened and she felt her heart clench. Behind him stood little Viserys Targaryen and his sister, Daenerys.

Her grasp loosened. “Oh.”

My lady Y/N, Braavos sounds wondrous. I must admit that learning you have found two more dragons was a welcome surprise. It seems you collect them now. Prince Oberyn has been adamant that I visit the palace of Sunspear but I am afraid I will only embarrass myself further. The Usurper has started having a brood of his own. He grows more complacent by the day. Mayhaps I will be able to come to you someday soon. Your letters have become a most cherished treasure to me—even if my little sister Margaery does try to read them over my shoulder at every opportunity. I wish I could tell her about you, about how brave and beautiful you are. But I have promised Prince Oberyn to keep you a secret. And my secret you shall be.

Ser Willem Darry quickly moved Y/N and the children into his house. It was larger, equipped with better possible hiding places, and seemed to blend into the background of their particular road, hard to pick it out from its neighbors, aside from the red door. Darry made the servants aware that these four new faces were to be obeyed just as he was. He was a bear of a man, but gentle.

Rhaenys and Daenerys were thick as thieves, the older of the two quickly schooling the young girl in all things a good, highborn lady should know, and several more things a lady should not. More often than not, Y/N would find them practicing with bits of sharpened wood, stabbing the air with clumsy grips which Willem tried to rectify to the girls’ delights. Viserys had caught them once or twice and had snapped the bits of wood in two and dragged Daenerys away by the end of her silver braid until Y/N stepped in and made him practice his calligraphy until the sun set as punishment for making the girls cry. He was a terrible child, always holding his nose too high in the air and telling Aegon and Jon that he was king because his mother had crowned him at Dragonstone before she died.

“She only did that because she thought Aegon was dead or would be soon,” Rhaenys said, fire in her eyes.

“I don’t want to be king anyway!” Aegon would always shout from the next room over.

It was best to keep them separated.

My Prince- I am tired. And I must apologize for the tone of this letter. But Ser Willem is not long for this world, his stomach grows more troublesome for him by the day, and Viserys has been burning letters he will snatch from my hands, not allowing me to know their contents. Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon are still flourishing in Braavos, however. They have asked that I send you this small wooden snake—and you know I am unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Rhaenys has insisted that she read the books you have sent to her brothers and little Daenerys. I had to keep Viserys from stealing the book from her hands more than once. He is a terrible young man. If Aegon were not so attached to him, I might not be so protective of him. But I would not do anything which would bring a frown to Aegon’s face. He has also taken to dyeing his hair blue, to better blend with the Braavosi crowd, letting any passersby think he is just a Tyroshi boy. He is so smart, my prince. He and Rhaenys—and Jon, too, when he is not sulking—are growing to be true heirs to their throne. I hope you will be able to see them soon, just as I hope to meet your daughters and Ellaria. Lord Willas has told me that you are quite the doting father. I miss you.

Aegon and Jon grew stronger and more adventurous with each passing moon while Viserys did try to seem like his nephews’ company and would tell them stories of court life in Westeros, of how Rhaegar was a valiant knight, and how King Aerys was loved by the people.

Y/N had been quick to tell them the truth as she tucked them into bed each night but that did not stop the boys from wanting the older boy’s attention when Ser Willem was deemed ‘un-fun’ when he tired so quickly.

That sentiment quickly soured in their little mouths when Y/N had to explain that Willem had joined their mothers in the Seven Heavens and would not be…around anymore.

“Just say it, he’s dead,” Viserys commanded with an upturned lip.

“You might be crass, Viserys, but that does not mean I need be, too.”

“Why not? Your pathetic little kingdom would not stand under the might of the Seven Kingdoms. That is why you’ve run-”

“Will you braid my hair?” Daenerys’ soft voice cut the tension and Y/N happily turned to look at the youngest dragon.

“Of course, Dany. Go grab your brush.”

“I have a ribbon you can use,” Rhaenys said with a small smile. She reached out a hand toward the younger girl who happily took it.

As Daenerys scurried away, Viserys shot Y/N another glare before marching off. Jon had been watching the entire exchange with his usual pout and Aegon was looking between Y/N and the door where Viserys had disappeared as he fiddled with the pommel of his practice sword.

“I do not understand his dislike of you,” Aegon said.

“He doesn’t like that he is second best,” Jon said. “Or third.”

Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Have you two finished your Valyrian lines?”

Aegon and Jon looked at each other and then darted from the room without a look back, as Y/N knew they would. Daenerys came back in with a smile, her brush, and the bit of ribbon Rhaenys had leant her in her hands. Y/N sat behind Daenerys and carefully brushed her hair. Daenerys seemed to preen under the touch, much like Rhaenys did when she was her age, happy to feel friendly fingers taking care with her hair. She plaited it and tied it off with the purple ribbon, knowing it would probably be a mess by the time dinner was served.

“You will not leave us. Not like Ser Willem, right?” The little princess asked as she turned to look up at her.

Y/N pressed a smile to her face and bit back the words she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. How could she tell a heartbroken little girl that she could not decide when she left this world? She traced a finger down Daenerys’ cheek before gently cupping her chin in her hand. “I promise I will be at your side for as long as I am able, princess.”

Daenerys paused, violet eyes searching her face for answers before nodding. “What are we having for supper?”

My Prince- Thank you for the wonderful gifts for Rhaenys’ ten-and-four nameday. I cannot believe she is almost a woman grown. I cannot believe it has been so long since I have seen you, so long since my flight from Dragonstone. How fares little Dorea? Has she recovered from her sickness? And what of Sarella? Is she still masquerading in the Citadel? She truly is your daughter. Please give Ellaria my love and I will give Aegon, Jon, and Rhaenys yours.

It had been quite a few years since she had heard Rhaenys wake herself up in a fit. Y/N quietly padded over to her room and let herself in, seeing the princess sit in a mess of blankets, a hand on her chest, obviously trying to slow her racing heart. Y/N stepped inside as Rhaenys spotted her sat on the edge of the bed and smiled as Rhaenys quickly swirled around on the blankets to place her head on Y/N’s lap. Her fingers reached up and tangled with her necklace, thumb brushing against the sun pendant as she had done hundreds of times before.

“What troubles you, sunshine? Let me help you.” She curled her hands over Rhaenys’ shoulders and side, cradling her just a bit—like she did when she was a small child. “The nightmares have come back.” She did not look up at her, only keeping her focus on the metal sun.

“Tell me what you see.”

Rhaenys sighed. “You’ll think me foolish.”

“Never.”

“There are ice dragons—bigger than castles, bigger than mountains. They come from the cold and have riders made of snow on their backs and swords made of ice, too.” She shivered and her hand dropped from Y/N’s necklace and she curled further into Y/N’s grasp. “The dead walk with them.”

“The dead?” Y/N asked, her face scrunching in confusion.

“They follow them, mindlessly. Like they have no control.”

Y/N pulled Rhaenys a little closer, feeling something cold trace its finger down her spine. “You’ve been dreaming of the cold since you were a child.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before finally looking up at her. “I don’t think they’re dreams.”

And that gave Y/N pause. She had read about Daenys the Dreamer who saved her family from the Doom. She had read how the priests and priestesses of the Mother Rhoyne were gifted with visions of things not yet come to pass. “You have been seeing this since you were a babe, sunshine. Tell me. Tell me what you think it is.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before sighing. “I’ve read the book of legends Uncle Oberyn has sent. Of the Rhoynar, of my mother’s people. It said that some were gifted with something called the Sight. The ability to see things as they happen from across the world, or things not yet come to pass.”

“Like the Dragon Dreams of the Valyrians.”

Rhaenys nodded and finally dropped her hold on the necklace.

“And you think that this cold, these beings, are coming?”

“I know it sounds like nonsense-”

“Almost every country in this world has legends of a night which lasted generations, of cold which reached across the seas. And history repeats itself, my sunshine. It is possible that you have always had the Sight. Do not discount yourself.”

Rhaenys looked up at her, dark eyes shining in the moonlight. “Then I am seeing what is to come?”

Y/N pulled her a little closer. “It is possible. But magic has been gone from the world a long time.”

“But if the cold can come again, magic can as well.”

Y/N nodded. “And I shall be here with you if it does.”

“My father,” Rhaenys grumbled the title, “was fond of prophecy, was he not? The Targaryens always said ‘the Dragon has three heads’ or something like that.”

“Why can there not be four?” She sighed. “Or five. Would not more be better? Surely there is still strength in numbers. And we shall need all the strength we can muster.”

Rhaenys opened her mouth to say something when the door burst open. On instinct, Y/N grabbed the knife she’d hidden in her sleeve and hurled it at the intruder. It missed Jon’s head by pure luck. He only glanced at the blade once before turning back to them. “Something’s happened.”

Y/N stood from the bed with Rhaenys at her side and they ran through the manse, following Jon’s steps but their haste did not change the outcome. Viserys and Daenerys were gone.

Lady Y/N- Thank you for the information you have discovered about from the Iron Bank. It is most welcome and has helped us continue to truly know how poorly and precariously the Usurper is sitting on his stolen throne. If you discover anything else, I would be grateful. Please give the young ones my love. -Prince Doran, Lord of Sunspear

“Again,” Y/N said, standing on the edge of the stone platform.

Aegon and Jon both groaned but Rhaenys held up her sword, ready for the next drill to be called out.

They had been training since the sun came up. While the breeze off the water kept them cool, sweat still poured down their necks to wet their tunics. It was a familiar sight—Y/N could remember her own time in Skilliga’s training rooms when she was younger than them.

It felt like ages ago.

She called out the next set of drills and watched as they worked through the steps, each with a bit of room for improvement, but not entirely terrible. As they worked through another set, and then another, Y/N reached for her own wooden sword and leapt up onto the platform as they caught their breath. Perhaps it was time for only one more exercise.

“If you each manage to land a blow, we can call it for the day, hm? I’ll even have honeywine brought in.”

The siblings looked at each other, a silent conversation, before they all turned like a three-headed beast and raised their swords and charged.

When it was all finished—Y/N had only two more sore spots on her arms but she still had honeywine and let them drink the entire bottle themselves. They had earned it. The manse grew quiet after their small celebration and Y/N sat in her room and listened to the sea beat against the city’s walls as she ran a cool, damp cloth across her face, trying to wash the day’s dirt and sweat away. It was strange, to know that she did not need to make sure that the three did not require a story to help them sleep. They hadn’t in several years. But she still found herself wanting to rise from her cushioned seat to check on them as the air grew still and soft.

A knock at her opened door had her turning and Rhaenys was walking into her room with her lips pulled tight. “Dany is alive.”

“How do you know this?” Y/N asked, rising from her seat. For almost a year, she had heard nothing of the two lost dragons. She knew someone had seen them, she had always known when someone was keeping a secret. But they never told. Again and again, she had thought she would learn of their deaths from a sneering nobleman or one of her missives from Westeros. But she had heard nothing.

“I’ve seen it. I’ve dreamt it.”

My Y/N, Thank you for the lace and silk. You are a generous soul; I had been searching for the right materials for my Obella’s nameday dress and your package arrived the next day. Oberyn speaks of you often, of little Aegon and Rhaenys, and Jon too. I hope to meet you soon, to finally know your face as I know your name. To know you.

It was two years later that she finally heard of where the two silver-headed dragons had gone.

The Dothraki Sea.

“Why would they go there?” Rhaenys asked with a frown.

“Viserys probably hatched some plan. Brokered a deal he did not fully understand with a man smarter than him.”

“A horse is smarter than him,” Aegon muttered. Rhaenys slapped his arm but Jon roared with laughter.

“Well, we must go to them. To Daenerys, at least,” Rhaenys said as she stood from her seat.

And that was how Y/N found herself selling most of their earthly possessions and setting out away from Braavos with an honest guide whom she trusted and paid well. (Balerion hated the wheelhouse but preferred it to being sat on Rhaenys’ lap on her horse. He curled himself around the petrified dragon egg and mostly slept through the day.)

From Braavos to Norvos and then down the banks of the Noyne to where it met the Rhoyne, the days trickled by.

For only a few hours, she let the three bask in the beauty of the ruins of Ny Sar—of the city Nymeria, their famed ancestor, had once called home—before they continued on. They could not afford to linger.

But she grew more and more fatigued with each passing day.

“What ails you?” Rhaenys asked as they stopped for the night.

“I never sleep well this far from the sea, sunshine.” She pressed a smile to her face and tugged at the silver lock of hair at Rhaenys’ nape. “I will rest when we find Daenerys and I can hear the waves crash against the shore again.”

But she asked again a few nights later as they settled again to make their small camp, quiet and hidden. They were too far south for the Pirates of Dagger Lake and too far north for the Volantene galleys to spot them, but it was still best to be cautious. Even in Skilliga, Y/N knew of the dangers of the Sorrows. And Y/N gave her answer. “We are too close to the Sorrows for me to sleep soundly, sunshine.”

They both settled on the high hill at the edge of the grasslands where it met the sparse forest, and watched the cursed fog slowly roll over the unseen waters she could only barely hear. It was strangely quiet here, in this desolate part of the world.

“This is where the Rhoynar made their last stand—before Nymeria and her ten thousand ships set sail and landed in Dorne.”

“Yes. Centuries ago, Chroyane, this was a proud and fertile land. Filled with celebrations and water magic. A place of laughter and prosperity.”

Rhaenys sighed as she looked out at the curling grey mist and barren trees. “But not now.”

“Before the Doom, when the Valyrians still ruled Essos, they tried to conquer the Rhoynar. Wars raged and, for a handful of years, the Rhoynar were able to hold the dragons off. But that did not last. In a last attempt to make the dragons rue the day they set their purple eyes on this part of the Rhoyne, Garin the Great called down a curse on the Valyrians after being captured.”

“And the waters rose and the fog rolled in, sweeping them beneath and holding them there beneath the waves for all the ages to come. The fog turned their skin to stone, matching their stone hearts and took their minds, too.” Rhaenys nodded. “I remembered that part. Mother would tell me stories of the Rhoynar when father was too busy wish his prophecies to sing me to sleep.” The young girl at her side heaved a heavy sigh as she watched the mist curl across the water. “This is my mother’s bloodline. Snuffed out by my father’s.”

Y/N huffed and knocked her shoulder against Rhaenys’. “You are not your parents. You are not some bit of rock that maesters scribble about in their chambers. You, my sunshine, are both Martell and Targaryen. You are the Sun and a Dragon. The fact that you are here means that the impossible is possible. You are water magic and fire in skin. You are the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. You are your mother’s daughter—her sunshine, my sunshine.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she nodded and stood, sweeping her hands against her trousers to brush the dead grass from the fabric. Y/N expected her to say that she was retiring again for the night. But Rhaenys always kept Y/N on her toes.

She was suddenly sprinting down the hill toward the water and the cursed fog.

“Rhaenys?! What are you doing?”

Rhaenys would succumb to the curse, to greyscale—what was she doing?! Y/N sprinted down after her, pumping her legs faster and faster to try to catch her—but she was again too late. And she screamed as Aegon darted in after his sister.

But the fog did not engulf Rhaenys’ form. It did not choke the air from her young lungs. Instead, it curled around her ankles like Balerion had done so many times as a kitten. It was welcoming her. Welcoming her home.

For a moment, Y/N could only watch as the unnatural fog almost seemed to sparkle and shine as Rhaenys reached out her hands toward it. She knew Aegon was yelling, saying something to Rhaenys. But she couldn’t hear it. And she doubted Rhaenys could either as the fog closed around the pair.

She could only wait, with a panicked Jon at her side and a strangely calm Balerion in her arms.

“All will be well,” Y/N heard herself saying.

“Are you certain?” Jon asked in return.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

And when the sun rose in the morning, for the first time in hundreds of years, it shone on Chroyane. The fog lifted. She could see the broken yet still beautiful arches and marble columns of towering stone. Grand palaces jutting from the sparkling waters. Overgrown trees, once foreboding and covered in grey moss, had shining green leaves as large as her arm with delicate pink flowers blossoming. And it was beautiful—even with the bodies of the stone men piled, almost neatly, on the banks of the river. Finally at rest.

Y/N turned her head at the sound of splashing and saw one of the famed large turtles the Rhoyne was known for, sliding through the water, content.

In the center of the river, the water slowly moving by, stood Rhaenys and Aegon.

Jon sprinted to his siblings’ side. “What happened? What did you see?”

Rhaenys only smiled.

**

The siblings had insisted that they take a handful of days to explore the newly ‘recovered’ city. And Y/N could not tell them no—both out of familial duty and personal curiosity. While Aegon and Rhaenys traipsed through the ruins as if they had been there thousands of times before, showing Jon everything they could and telling him of the Rhoynish history, Y/N explored on her own.

The ancient scars of the last battle against the Valyrians were still seen, now dulled by the constant presence of the river water but she could see bits of armor beneath ivy and trees, sun-bleached bone where the water was shallow.

But the river was clear and cool and Y/N let it soak her breeches as she jumped from the small skiff she had found so she could look through the ruins of what appeared to be an ornate bathhouse. Mud and damp greenery sloshed underneath her boots as she walked through, trying to envision what this place looked like before the war and curse. But even now, it was beautiful.

Something clanged against her boot and she looked down to see an edge of a sword. Y/N frowned as she pulled the sword from the muck and wiped it clean on her already-disgusting trousers. The pommel had a head of lion and was inlaid with fine rubies and gold. The blade was long—too long to be wielded by one hand as she had trained to do—but it was far too light to be common steel. Y/N held up the blade to let it reflect the sun and saw the swirling patterns as her heart leapt into her throat.

This was Valyrian steel.

She spent the next handful of hours combing through the mounds of debris on the edges of the river, making sure to listen for where her three charges were and to know that they were safe, and collecting any bits of Valyrian steel—armor or weapons—she could find. And if she had to shake a few bones loose from it? That did not matter. This was not supposed to be the resting place of the dragonriders. This was not their land. So, she supposed that the Valyrians’ former belongings were free game.

They would catch a fine price anyway.

Balerion was perched on a moss-covered rock, watching another large turtle and probably mulling over if the creature was friend, foe, or food.

But Rhaenys eventually pulled her brothers from the ruins and said it was time to move on—“we will come back. I’m sure of it.” And no one argued with her on that, or asked how she knew. They all knew to simply trust her.

The wetlands of the Rhoyne gave way to the grass of the Dothraki Sea and their guide promised that he knew the fastest way to Vaes Dothrak, the one true Dothraki settlement where Daenerys had last been seen. And his promises were kept, thankfully. Y/N was sure if anything else had caught her off guard, she would have fallen off her horse and never risen again. She was so far from the sea. She could hear no river or ocean. No water.

The heat was nearly unbearable. She had nearly thrown herself from the saddle when the seventy-sixth bead of sweat trailed its way down her neck to pool in the back of her tunic. But Rhaenys remained ever positive.

“We are nearly there, I can feel it.”

Even when they learned that Daenerys and what was left of her husband’s khalasar had left Vaes Dothrak and started toward Lhazar, she still voiced her positive outlook.

And it paid off. As Y/N knew it would—eventually.

As the sun set on the fourth day after leaving Vaes Dothrak, they spotted the remnants of a khalasar surrounding what looked like a giant funeral pyre as a red comet bled across the dark night sky. Y/N slowed her horse to a stop and dismounted as she squinted toward the group, trying to find Daenerys. The silver hair quickly stood out and she felt her heart lift, unweighted for the first time since they had left the Chroyane. But it suddenly tumbled down to her stomach as she watched Daenerys light the fire and then edged closer to the heat.

“Daenerys? Dany!”

But the girl did not hear her. Did not turn. Did not blink as she stepped into the flames.

Y/N ran toward the fire but was held back by a strange man—Y/N barely registered that he was not Dothraki—who muttered something about not needing more death tonight.

Sudden movement at her side had Y/N turning and she could not stomach the cry that ripped its way from her throat.

“Rhaenys? What are you—Rhaenys!” She screamed and screamed and leapt toward her only to be too late—again—to stop the carnage. That was her curse.

Rhaenys stepped into the funeral pyre, the egg she had treasured for years held out in front of her like an offering.

Aegon and Jon were screaming for her, for Dany, to come out—come out of the flames and we can go home! We can go home!

But the pair of girls did not. They did not emerge from the flames. Around the large funeral pyre, the remnants of the Dothraki khalasar moved to their knees, watching at the fire burned higher and hotter. And all Y/N could do was watch.

She had failed. She had failed and she didn’t know why. Why did the girls walk into the fire, so sure of their fates? Why did they welcome it with open arms? Why? Y/N sank to her knees and wept. She cried for the first time since Arthur had died at her feet, wept even as the heat from the pyre drenched her in sweat. She had failed.

By the time the sun rose and smoke dissipated, she was certain she would be staring at the bodies of her two girls and once again facing immeasurable loss and now having to handle her boys’ own anger and sadness.

But then she felt her heart leap into her throat.

Surrounded by ash and soot, were Daenerys and Rhaenys. Unharmed. Unburnt. Alive.

And four baby dragons.

“Oh.”

The remaining onlookers yelled out something in their language, hands raised toward Rhaenys and Daenerys.

Blood of their blood.

Y/N, Aegon, and Jon stepped over the piles of ash and still burning embers and toward the two women, naked, and covered in soot—but smiling. Y/N pulled off her overtunic and wrapped it around Rhaenys’ shoulders as Aegon draped his cloak around Daenerys.

“I saw you come again.” Daenerys reached out and grasped at Rhaenys’ hands and the young women cried. “I saw you.”

“I saw you, too,” Rhaenys whispered before shaking her hands free of Daenerys’ grip only to wrap her arms around her aunt in a tight embrace. “How could he hurt you so? You did not deserve to be treated like that.”

Y/N watched Daenerys’ brows furrow over Rhaenys’ shoulder. “What did you see?”

But the answer would have to wait as Aegon and Jon, tired of waiting, all but threw themselves at the pair, and berated them for their actions but thanked them both for surviving.

“I don’t know what we would do without you,” Aegon murmured.

Y/N sighed as she watched them, watched the small group cry and laugh and smile. Aegon did not know how true that statement was—and she hoped he would never know what the world would be like without his sister and aunt.

Rhaenys stepped away from her brother from a moment and held out a soot-covered hand toward her, urging her forward. And Y/N quickly took it, not minding the strange heat. The yellow and gold dragon hatchling on Rhaenys’ shoulder chirped as Y/N stepped closer. Its little neck craned as she kissed Rhaenys’ forehead, trying to see what Y/N was doing to their mother.

“Never do that again, my sunshine.”

**

There had been a bit of an argument between Daenerys and her guard—Jorah Mormont, Y/N had learned what his name was—and Rhaenys and her brothers as to where they would go next. They could not stay in the Dothraki Sea. The other khalasars were still a threat.

Jorah suggested Asshai-by-the-shadow.

Their guide suggested traveling back to Norvos—and when that was turned down, he took his payment and left. “You will die out here,” was all he said. Charming.

But Daenerys, watching the red comet still bleed across the crystal-blue sky had a different destination in mind. “What is that way?” She asked, finger pointing toward where the comet was flying.

“Qarth, khaleesi. The Queen of cities.”

Daenerys smiled at the sound of it. “We shall go to Qarth.” She turned and looked at Rhaenys who nodded, both of them unperturbed by the dragons using their limbs like a crib. Aegon and Jon were both looking at the pair of young women with awe and almost-smug knowing on their faces. Like they had predicted this very sight. And mayhaps they did.

Magic had come back into the world. With water and fog and fire and dragons.

It had come back.

**

My dear Willas- I am not sure if Qarth is to my taste. I do not like how these merchants ‘princes’ and warlocks stare at my charges and their dragons. I do not like how they lathe attention and treasures on the children…young adults, I suppose. I know that these people, man, woman, whomever, they only mean to get their hands on the dragons. And Balerion truly poses more of a threat than the dragons do—and the cat is getting old, he is still something to behold, but his paws move slower now. The hatchlings are defenseless little things even if they are starting to learn how to breathe fire. But I suppose the comforts of this famed city are better than the alternative of getting lost in the Red Waste. But still…I could hear the whispers and feel the people of Qarth all around us. Even our host, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, who had been the first to welcome us into the walled city and has given us an entire wing to call home in his immense estate—I cannot trust him. There is a Shadowbinder here who seems to appear at all hours of the night and day, speaking in whispers and vague prophecy. Truthfully, if she spoke plainly I might actually like her. But enough of that! What news do you have from Westeros? The new set of hounds—are they still growing strong?

For now, in this strange city, they were comfortable. She could hear the four laugh and see them smile. Daenerys told them of her time at Viserys’ side, told them of how her brother had told her that Y/N and Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon no longer wanted the pair at their side. She told them of how they had become wards of Illyrio Mopatis who had promised to help them retake the Seven Kingdoms—a familiar promise. He had brokered a deal with Khal Drogo, all but selling Daenerys to the khal in exchange for the large khalasar who was supposed to help Viserys reclaim the Iron Throne. It churned her stomach, it hurt her heart. “You know that you are family,” Y/N had said. “You are always welcome, always loved.” And that gave rise to the question: did any of them actually want the Iron Throne?

And the answer, unsurprisingly, was complicated.

Aegon and Jon wanted to stop running. Daenerys wanted a place to call home, truly. And Rhaenys, her sunshine, revealed her steel core. Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she stood and set her shoulders back. “Westeros will be mine. It will be mine as it should have been my father’s. As it should have belonged to my mother. The usurper and the lions stole it from her and I will wash them from this earth. I want it. The Seven Kingdoms belong to me—and I will have them.”

Y/N nodded. “You will, sunshine. I promise you that. You are the eldest. By Dornish right and custom, it belongs to you.” Y/N reached out and curled her finger around the silver strand at her ear, and she was suddenly so aware that Rhaenys was growing up. She looked so much like Elia. Where had the time gone? Her hand dropped back to her side. “You will be queen.”

“Y/N!”

She turned at sound of her name and saw Rhaenys walking toward her, draped in a silken Qartheen dress, and her little yellow dragon in her arms. She had named her Vēzos—it meant Sun in High Valyrian. She knew what Rhaenys meant when she had named her dragon. Elia was the Sun of Dorne. Rhaenys had been her sunshine. And now Rhaenys had a sun of her own. Beautiful and terrible and all hers. Y/N could not be more proud. “You are up early, my sunshine. Your brothers and aunt are still resting like the dead.” Last night a grand reception had been held by their host, filling his gardens with all the elite of the city. The Pureborn, the Thirteen, Warlocks—all of them, had descended on the lush grounds and had their fill of fine wood and drink while whispering about the ‘uncivilized’ Dothraki and stealing glances at the dragons while trying to make conversation with the four guests of honor.

It had been exhausting. Most of the party had been spent with Ser Jorah, trying to keep the Dothraki from pilfering anything worth value or Balerion from destorying the guests' fine dresses. Truthfully, Y/N wouldn’t’ve cared but Daenerys said it would not be kind to their host. Oh well.

“They drank much more than me,” Rhaenys said with a smile. Y/N patted the cushioned seat next to her but Rhaenys shook her head. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but stood and followed Rhaenys out of Xaro’s manse, grabbing one of her swords on the way out and sliding it into the belt at her waist. The city was still sleeping and strangely quiet—quiet enough that Y/N could hear the ocean. The port of Qarth was one of the great ports of the known world and Y/N had grown up hearing of the treasure her parents had once plundered from the Jade Gates—it had been the trip they had taken just after they were married. Strangely romantic. The port was a little busier than the quiet of the city and Y/N stepped closer to Rhaenys as they neared the unfamiliar crowd. But, Rhaenys paid no one any mind until she spotted a man with a plumed hat who bowed when she stepped toward him.

“Right on time, Princess! Are you ready?”

Y/N had barely any time to ask what was going on before Rhaenys took her by the hand and ushered her onto the Swan Ship and it pulled away from the port. “Are you kidnapping me, sunshine?” She asked with a laugh.

“Only for a few hours.”

The ship made quick work of sailing through the Jade Gates and toward the East of Essos. And while the sun grew higher in the sky, Rhaenys steadfastly evaded any questions Y/N posed about their destination and she only grew more confused when the ship slowly stopped, rocking in time with the quiet waves—no land in sight.

And Rhaenys’ smile only widened. “Welcome to the Jade Sea.”

Y/N had to laugh and little Vēzos chirped at the noise. “Oh, sunshine. You never fail to surprise me.”

“My ladies!” The captain called out from behind the helm. “We only have a few moments before the Qartheen galleys stop us for taxes—I recommend you make the most of it.”

And that was how Y/N found herself diving off the side of the ship into the cool waters, uncaring that she had left her only weapon on the deck of the boat. Rhaenys was next to her, the folds of her dress floating around her like a sparkling sea creature. And little Vēzos, still unable to fly just yet, had taken to the water too, strangely enough. She flitted around the pair, yellow wings keeping her afloat.

This was paradise.

**

Oberyn- I cannot believe little Dorea has celebrated another nameday. It feels like yesterday you have told me of her coming into this world. Did she like the little jade sun we sent? Aegon had it commissioned at the market here in Qarth. The deal between the Pureborn and our little band of Dothraki and displaced regents is nearly solidified. We will have nearly twenty galleys with the small mountain of Valyrian steel we had reclaimed from the Rhoyne. (I, of course, have hidden several bits of armor and the lion-headed sword, and a few other weapons I had found, outside the city. Just in case. I am saving a spearhead I have found for you. I do hope you like it.) But it does seem like the deal is taking longer than I had ever anticipated. Or perhaps I should have anticipated it—the Pureborn, the warlocks, no one wants Valyrian steel. Not when dragons have come again. For now, everyone is safe. Thriving. I know you weren’t particularly keen on any of the names chosen for the hatchlings but I am still mostly unable to tell them no when they ask so sweetly. Drogon does seem to be the largest still, followed by Vēzos, then Aegon’s Viserion, and Jon’s little Rhaegal is still…little. Mayhaps that is a cosmic joke. But you should see them when they are all together. There is something magical there, powerful. The sun shines brightly on all of them. I am so proud. Please give Ellaria my love.

On the end of the fourth moon of their time in the city, the woman in the lacquered mask, the Shadowbinder Quaithe who still did not speak plainly no matter how much they insisted, appeared again in their rooms.

“You have not left the city, dragonriders.”

Y/N drew her sword but the masked woman did not flinch.

“What do you want?” Aegon asked.

“I have told you. You did not listen. Soon, you will not be permitted to leave the city. You all must learn the truth. And you must-”

“Pass beneath the Shadow,” Jon finished, obviously having heard the request before. “There is nothing for us in Asshai. Truth or otherwise.”

“You will learn.” The woman paused. “Do not trust the whisper.” And then she vanished, as if conjured by shadows herself and the door to their chambers burst open and the small khalasar filled in, shouting something in their language Y/N was still learning—but she caught “dragons” and “gone.” And that was all she needed. And her four charges all let out screams of anguish, as if they had lost limbs with the news. Perhaps that is what it felt like.

They all poured out of their temporary home and into the garden, past the dead bodies of a handful of Daenerys’ handmaidens, to see Pyat Pree and Xaro waiting for them. Y/N would not be able to recall anything they said, only the gist.

The other warlocks had stolen the dragons, seeking power. Xaro and Pyat Pree would lead the four (Aegon, Jon, Rhaenys, and Daenerys) to the House of the Undying, the warlocks’ seat of power in Qarth, where they were holding the hatchlings. In exchange, the two wanted Daenerys and her khalasar to help them establish a ‘new order’ in Qarth. They wanted to be kings.

In short, Daenerys agreed. She wanted nothing more than the hatchlings back and her niece and nephews happy again. But there were, of course, conditions. Only the four could go.

“This is ridiculous,” Y/N muttered.

But the four wanted to go, feeling the need—no matter how unsafe—to be near the hatchling that had chosen them.

“At least take a knife,” she said, pressing one of the (many) daggers she had into each of their hands when Xaro and Pyat had turned their backs. And that was all she could do. They would not be argued with. Y/N could only wish that she had been left in better company than Ser Jorah Mormont who seemed to be already in love with Daenerys. She did not like it. But she knew she could not always fight every battle for them, even if she wished she could, even if she wished she could shoulder the burden she knew they felt on their too-young shoulders. Their heartbreak, their anger, it was hers, too. And she would do anything she could to help make them smile again. And now? It seemed that meant waiting.

As the sun rose in the sky and then set and the moon soon followed, Y/N had not moved from the seat she had taken on the steps leading inside. Jorah had spoken to her, about his life in Westeros but she did not particularly care. He seemed to have received a lenient sentence for his crimes. But he had been proven loyal to Daenerys while Viserys had traded her to Drogo. An ally was an ally. Sending him away when they had so few this side of the Narrow Sea would be unwise.

Smoke rising on the horizon made her finally move from her seat.

But then the gate opened again and Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys came rushing back, each with their hatchling carefully held in their grasps.

“We must go! Now!” Daenerys said—she quickly said it again in Dothraki and the assembled khalasar splintered, quickly picking up anything worth value as they moved.

“Khaleesi? What happened?”

Daenerys did not answer—but Jon did. “It was a trap. We’ve killed them. We must leave.”

“Where are we going?” Y/N had to ask, following them back inside to gather her things and to help pilfer.

“We will figure it out later! We must go!”

With a sword in one hand and a golden candelabra in the other, Y/N felt a chill slide down her spine and she turned to see Quaithe again. The woman simply stared at her, unmoving for a heartbeat or two, and then she slithered from the shadows. “You are their shadow, my lady. The sharp shadow. A shark with dark teeth.”

“That is not helpful!” Y/N hissed in return.

“You will learn. Just as they have—they listened. They did not trust the whisper they heard.”

“Y/N! We must go!”

She turned at the sound of the outburst to see Aegon, arms full of sacks filled with thieved treasures and Viserion on his shoulder. When she turned back to Quaithe, she was gone. Again. Y/N pushed out a sigh and turned, dashing out of the manse and not looking back. They only stopped for a moment for Y/N to dig up her buried treasure.

“You could not help yourself, could you?”

“Now is not the time, Jon.”

When they reached the port, she could already hear the screams coming from the city. Whatever had transpired at the House of the Undying was clearly more than anyone could have anticipated. Some of the Valyrian steel they had meant to sell to the Pureborn was handed over to a captain of a large ship—large enough for them and the small khalasar—and fast enough, too. Quickly, she bought a bit of ink and parchment from a vendor who seemed nonplussed at all the commotion.

She needed help.

She needed Oberyn. She needed Willas.

I do not know where we are going after Qarth, I only know that both Rhaenys and Daenerys seem to be answering a call I cannot hear. Aegon and Jon follow where they lead. Toward destiny or ruin or both, I do not know. But I do know that I cannot do this without you. I cannot guide them without you. I need you. Please.

She wrote a few lines more on each of them, asking them to bring who they wanted, pleading with Oberyn to bring Ellaria, asking Willas to continue to write to her if he could not or would not come. All of it. For the first time in over a decade, she prayed to any of the deities she could remember as she signed her name. She shoved the pair of missives into a familiar captain’s hands along with a small sack of gold and told him where to have them sent as their small group boarded the boat. All she could do was hope.

**

Astapor would not have been her first choice.

It would not have been her fifteenth choice. But Jorah had convinced Daenerys that they needed an army, a true army, not the small khalasar that they currently had. The famed Unsullied of Astapor could provide that…supposedly.

But there was a certain set to her jaw, and an unspoken look between Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon that had Y/N thinking they all had ulterior motives. She had seen that same look between Ellia and Oberyn years ago, a silent conversation only they would understand. While it made her sad, it also made her hopeful. Hopeful for a future where they could all love and care for each other without fear.

Fear. A terrible thing.

Another reason why Astapor would have been avoided if she had been asked. But Ser Jorah had Daenerys’ ear and had filled her mind of thoughts of Unsullied. An army made entirely of men who would follow orders without question, who were thought to not feel pain or fear.

But, Y/N found that his words had soured the more he spoke of their ‘training’ and they stepped into the red-bricked city. Daenerys grew furious when they were given a ‘taste’ of the Unsullied and the good master, a terribly mustachioed man named Kraznys, had bragged about how they did not feed them or give them water for a day and a night and they would stand guard until they dropped. ‘Such is their obedience,’ his translator, a delicately beautiful young woman from Naath named Missandei said. All of it made Y/N’s skin crawl.

“Khaleesi. The Unsullied are chosen as boys and trained-”

“I have heard and seen all I care for about their training!” Daenerys hissed before she cracked a slap across Jorah’s cheek, tears glistening in her eyes as they retired back to the manse they had ‘graciously’ been given for the night.

Y/N glanced back at Aegon and Jon who suddenly found the manse’s ceiling very interesting but Rhaenys kept her eyes firmly trained on her aunt.

Jorah clutched at his reddened cheek. “If I have displeased my queen-”

“You have displeased me greatly, Ser. If you were my true knight, you would never have brought me to this vile sty.” Daenerys’ bottom lip trembled as if she wanted to say more but she kept quiet and turned to Y/N. “We should not have come here; I am so sorry.”

Y/N shook her head and drew Daenerys into her hold. She did not have words to soothe her. What could she say? But she watched Jorah slink from the room and kissed Daenerys’ forehead as she had done hundreds of times in Braavos. Before all of this. Before dragons.

“I want to help them,” Daenerys murmured as she pulled back from Y/N’s arms. “They are people in need of help. They do not… they do not deserve this. If we are in a position of power, should we not help them?”

“Our position of power is fragile and small,” she stressed the word. “We must be smart. There are thousands of them and only a few dozen of us.”

“That has never stopped you,” Rhaenys said with a smirk that had Y/N sighing. “And there might be thousands of them but we have dragons.”

“Baby dragons,” Y/N murmured.

“But dragons all the same,” Daenerys said, reaching out to Rhaenys who quickly took her hand.

“We have been running all our lives, unsafe for who we are. Unsafe because of something we did not chose. If… if I am to be queen, I do not want to know that there are people in this world in shackles when I had the power to help them.”

Aegon and Jon stepped up, hands on their swords. “We will help you.”

Y/N nodded. “In Skilliga, all people are free—we were looked down upon because of that by the supposed Free Cities and the Valyrian Empire before the Doom. I will fight this battle beside you. As always.”

And that is how they found themselves back in the revolting company of the good master. At first, they offered the small mountain of Valyrian steel. But, just as in Qarth, the ‘good masters’ of Astapor did not want Valyrian steel. They wanted dragons. And Kraznys always posed his questions to Aegon and Jon—as if Daenerys and Rhaenys were not there at all. Missandei, however, seemed to understand immediately that it was the women who were truly steering this possible transaction.

Y/N liked Missandei.

“We will need time to think of your offer,” Aegon said as he stood from his seat. The rest of them followed suit. There was no way any of the dragons were going to be forfeited for an army, but Kraznys did not need to know that just yet.

Kraznys sneered as he looked at them and Y/N did not need Missandei to translate his next insult. And she really didn’t think ‘stupid sunset girls’ really applied to all of them. At all. But that did not matter. When they arrived at the manse and one of Daenerys’s handmaidens, a petite woman named Irri, greeted them at the door, she was speaking rapidly, and pointing toward the manse’s solar.

For a moment, Y/N had the horrible thought that the hatchlings had been stolen again but then she caught the words “sun” and “prince.” And then she and Daenerys were darting away from the group and running toward where Irri had pointed.

She could hear them before she saw them.

But she turned a corner and saw a head full of brown curls and a familiar, shining black cane and her heart leapt into her throat as he turned to face her.

“My lady-”

She threw her arms around him in a hug and held him tight. “Oh, Willas. Oh my dear, sweet Willas. You’ve come.” And she nearly wept when she felt his arms wrap around her back and squeeze, she didn’t even care that the handle of his cane was digging into her spine. She didn’t care. He was here and in her arms.

“You have not changed at all, my lady,” he murmured as he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Your latest letter was a…most welcome surprise.”

His warm hand gently cradled her cheek and she felt tears stinging at her eyes at the soft touch. It had been far too long since someone had touched her…at all. Especially with such care.

“I’ve missed you,” Willas whispered.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, to tell him that she had missed him more than she could have ever put into words and so she did not try, but then the rest of her brood were rushing by her and into the solar.

“Uncle Oberyn!” Rhaenys nearly wailed.

Y/N pulled back to see Rhaenys fling herself at Oberyn who was crying into her two-toned hair with a broad smile on his face. He was older now, true. But still as handsome.

Willas’s hand gently grasped hers and led her a little further into the room. “Let me introduce you to my fair traveling companions.” He smiled at her, as if feeling her sudden nerves through her hand as it clutched his. “They were kind enough to let me stowaway on their ship after we received your letters.” He laughed but then waved a hand at the woman nearest to him. She was tall with thick, wavy black hair, dotted with golden jewelry and soft yellow samite wrapped around her in a beautiful dress with a copper belt around her waist. “This is Lady Ellaria Sand.”

Ellaria was even more beautiful than Y/N could have ever imagined. She had a regal beauty and kind eyes. Her hands were soft as she reached for Y/N and she happily let the other woman pull her into her grasp in welcome. “It was kind of you to think of me.”

“I would not have Oberyn part with the love of his life,” Y/N said as she stepped back, still smelling Ellaria’s fine perfume. “It was kind of you to join us across the Narrow Sea. I hope your daughters did not mind the waves.”

Ellaria turned and smiled at the young girls who were already surrounding Aegon and Rhaenys and cooing over the still-growing hatchlings who preened with the attention. “This was their first ship ride of this length. But they are simply happy for a bit of adventure.”

Three more women were sitting with Jon and Daenerys, speaking quietly in the corner. “That is Nymeria, Obara, and Tyene,” Willas informed her in a whisper.

“Sarella is still at the Citadel?” Y/N asked.

Ellaria nodded with a chuckle. “I am sure it was a heavy decision for her. Oberyn has promised to bring her back all the relics our ship can hold.”

“And I shall deliver on that promise, will I not, my love?” Oberyn said, appearing at Ellaria’s side and kissing her slowly at the corner of her mouth before turning to Y/N. Before she could even try to think of an appropriate greeting, Oberyn reached out and his large hands were grasping at her face and he was kissing her. She was frozen, like a scared little mouse cornered by a viper. But he tasted delicious—like citrus and spice and heat. And as soon as it started, he stepped back. His smile was large, large still as he looked at her confused face. “It is good to see you, Little Shark.”

Willas’ warm hand on her back pulled Y/N back to reality before she glanced at Ellaria who only winked at her. This did nothing to ease her growing confusion but Y/N shuffled the group toward the small hall the manse provided, telling everyone to sit more comfortably instead of standing.

Oberyn told them of how the Usurper was dead and how the Seven Kingdoms had fallen into war. The War of the Five Kings they called it. “Your mother’s family,” Oberyn said as he looked at Jon, “seem to be the largest threat to the Lannisters. They have captured Jamie Lannister.”

Jon seemed pleased with that, in his own quiet way.

“Perhaps an alliance could be made,” Ellaria said. “It would be good to have a Northron ally,” She turned and smiled at Willas, “Aside from our sweet Willas and his band of fair flowers.”

Willas’ cheeks bloomed with color at Ellaria’s words. “My grandmother and I are ready whenever we are needed. Right now, we are letting Margaery play at being queen. She knows it will only be temporary, but she has been…trained by my grandmother in all the ways she knows to sway the opinion of the low and highborn. I am sure by the time we make landfall, they may be waiting for you all with open arms.”

“I do not believe it will be hard to sway them when Cersei Lannister and her little golden children are waging war and starving them,” one of the older Sand Snakes, Obara, muttered. Y/N liked Obara.

“But enough talk of Westeros! Tell us of your lives here in Essos.”

And so they did. They started from the beginning—the four of them told their family of how they jumped from city to city, evading assassins and would-lords in search of gold and glory, all while learning of their family and former homeland across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenys was nearly glowing as she recounted their time along the Rhoyne and everyone at the table seemed entranced, too, promising to see for themselves the land that had once belonged to their ancestors. And all of that led to Astapor and the possible deal with the good master.

“You cannot truly be thinking of giving him a dragon?” Tyene asked.

“I will play his game.” Daenerys slid her hand down Drogon’s neck and the ever-growing hatchling trilled as he looked at his mother, as if agreeing to what she wanted. “He will simply not know that it is my game, my rules.”

The rest of the night was spent filled with terrible Astapori wine and shared food and laughter. Y/N was yawning but smiled when she felt Willas’ fingers trace across the back of her neck as Balerion was curled contentedly on his lap beside her. He seemed to realize what he was doing and his hand snapped back to his side, disturbing the old cat who meowed, displeased, before leaping across the table to settle in Rhaenys’ hold.

“Sorry, my lady.”

But she shook her head, still smiling. “Never apologize.”

They spoke for a little longer before Dorea and Loreza started to fall asleep in their seats and Ellaria excused herself to tuck them into bed, letting Aegon lead the way to one of the guest rooms. The group dispersed, little by little, until it was only Y/N, Willas, and Oberyn left in the hall.

“I must take my leave, my lady,” Willas said with a yawn. “I am sure I will need all my energy for tomorrow.” He looked at her then, and she could not read his face though she tried. But his intentions became clear as his lips touched her cheek before his cane tapped against the floor as he retired for the night.

Y/N nearly leapt out of her skin when Oberyn’s hand enveloped hers when he settled beside her as she watched Willas walk away. But he only chuckled. “Peace, Little Shark, peace. It is just me.”

She huffed out a laugh and let her other hand cover his. “It is good to see you, truly. You and your family…you all seem so happy.”

“We are. My daughters are healthy and happy and Ellaria is the light of my days. And you,” he squeezed her hand, “you, little shark, have raised my sister’s children. You have kept them safe and healthy and happy.” He untangled their hands only to touch the sun pendant around her throat for a moment and a brief, sad smile pulled at his lips before he reached up to grasp her face again, gentle and warm. “You. Do not think to undermine yourself to me. You love them as they love you. You have taken on a responsibility you needn’t call yours—all because you loved my sister.” He kissed her forehead. “You have loved my family.” He kissed her right cheek and Y/N felt her breath stutter in her lungs. “You have helped them bring magic back into this wretched world.” He kissed her left. “And you…you still smile like the girl I knew all those years ago.” And then he kissed her again, brushing his lips against hers with a happy sigh and all Y/N could do was let him guide her, let him rob her lungs of air for the second time that night, let him fulfill a dream she had selfishly kept since her girlhood in Westeros.

But then she remembered Ellaria. Her hand found Oberyn’s chest and she gently pushed.

“What is it?” He asked, voice soft. “If I have overstepped-”

“The mother of your youngest is asleep in the other room, My Prince.”

“And she would take the time to kiss you properly as well. And she will, when or if you give her the opportunity.” His familiar roguish smile made her stomach twist with pleasant butterflies. “My heart may have found its match with my love, Ellaria, but that does not mean yours does not call to mine as well. We were made to delight in all the gods have given us. Ellaria and I often share in our delights. If you, my little shark, are amiable, I would like to keep kissing you. I would like for Ellaria to have her chance to kiss you, too.” And when she went to bed that night, slipping under her blankets, her mind hazed with thoughts of soft lips and kind words and the scent of roses she could not place.

The next day, they solidified the deal with Kraznys. He had tried to say he would only give them all of the Unsullied for all four dragons, but Daenerys stood firm and only agreed to one. The biggest. Drogon.

“And I shall take you as well,” Daenerys said as she turned to Missandei. “As a mark of a deal well struck.”

Missandei quickly translated to Kraznys who then waved a dismissive hand, allowing it. As if Missandei were not a person. It turned her stomach.

As soon as they were back at their manse, Rhaenys took the thick collar from around Missandei’s neck and threw it into the hearth, letting the leather smoke and burn.

“Is there a family on Naath we might reunite you with? A father, a mother?”

Missandei shook her head. “There is no one left of my family on Naath, your grace. This one is…alone.”

Daenerys reached out and gently took Missandei’s hands in her own. “You are no longer alone. You are with us. You are a free person—if you ever tire of our company, simply say so and we shall let you go wherever you wish. We will give you gold, a ship—anything you may need. I swear it.”

Missandei’s dark gold eyes searched Daenerys’ face before looking to Rhaenys and doing the same. “I will be able to leave?”

Rhaenys nodded. “Now, tomorrow, ten years from now. If you want to leave, we will make sure you are given all you require to make a comfortable life for yourself.”

“And what of the Unsullied who become yours tomorrow?”

Daenerys and Rhaenys wore matching, Cheshire smiles. “We have plans for them.”

**

“Are you certain of this plan?” Willas whispered as he watched Y/N place one of her (many) swords into its scabbard around her waist. They had been speaking all morning, of his time at Highgarden, of him traveling to Sunspear under the pretense of meeting with Princess Arianne, all of it. And she found herself realizing how easy it was to speak to him—how easy it had always been. But then the topic suddenly changed as he ask of the plan Daenerys and Rhaenys had hatched.

“I am,” she said.

“They are all destined to rule, in one way or another. They are queens; I am only an advisor. I must trust in their judgement.”

“And if it fails?”

“It won’t.” She slid another blade up her sleeve. “But I am never unprepared.” Y/N turned to Willas and smiled as she reached out to press a hand to his cheek. The mustache he had grown since she had last seen him suited him. He was always so handsome. “It is good to have you here. I shudder to think of the state of my nerves if you had refused my call.”

Willas smiled and reached up to cover her hand with his. “You know I could never refuse you, my lady.”

Y/N wanted to say more—wanted to say something, anything—but Aegon appeared in the doorway of her chambers before she could. Her hand snapped back down to her side. “It is time to go, Y/N.” His dark purple eyes shifted to Willas, “and you as well, my lord.”

Y/N nodded and stepped away from Willas with a strange, shaking smile.

In a strange procession, their group, growing by the day, arrived back at the Plaza of Pride (a stupid name). Drogon had been wrestled into a small cart that morning, his little belly filled with fine steak and Daenerys had peppered kisses along his scaled head before she had sealed him away. The battalions of Unsullied were all standing at rest, spears and shields held in front of them. Slowly, Daenerys walked to the small cart and undid its strappings, pulling Drogon from his makeshift cage with the chain on his foot. He pulled against his bonds as he neared the master. He knew.

“Is it done then? They belong to us?”

The master answered and Missandei translated. “It is done. You hold the whip.”

But the master continued talking, once again calling them all a bunch of bitches and mongrels but Daenerys did not flinch. She merely turned toward the army she now commanded and held up the whip.

“Unsullied!” Daenerys called out in her perfect High Valyrian. Y/N watched Missandei’s head snap around to look at the petite woman.

They instantly moved to attention.

“March forward!” They did. “Halt!” They did.

Y/N looked to Daenerys and then to the other three, seeing them all strangely calm. They were conquerors. They were blood of Old Valyria. They were Nymeria’s heirs. They were her charges.

“Tell the bitch the beast will not come,” the master said as Drogon continued to pull against his hold.

Daenerys slowly turned to face him, still holding the whip. “A dragon is not a slave.”

“You speak Valyrian?” He asked, aghast. But still not embarrassed.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria. Valyrian is my mother tongue.”

Aegon had to hide his smile behind his hand.

But then Daenerys turned back toward the Unsullied, her face set in stone. “Unsullied! Slay the masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who holds a whip, but harm no child. Strike the chains off every slave you see!”

And they did. In the next breath, the handful of masters walking at the flanks of the Unsullied had spears through their backs.

“I am your master!” The man screamed. “Kill her! Kill them all!”

“Dracarys.”

Y/N watched Drogon open his mouth and scream. Fire consumed the ‘good master’ and he screamed, too. It was a glorious scene. And, all at once, the square devolved into chaos. The assorted masters, who had come to witness the glory of the dragon, were killed where they stood. Jorah drew his sword but Y/N simply crossed her arms and watched everything unfold.

And, it was over within a span of only a few moments. The slavers were burnt and bloody. Dead. As they should be. But they were not finished.

Daenerys and her niece and nephews mounted their horses and rode through the Unsullied ranks. “Unsullied!” Daenerys called out. “You have been slaves all your life. Today, we give you freedom.”

“Any man who wishes to leave may leave, and no one will harm him. We give you our word,” Aegon said next. Y/N looked out to see a few of the helmeted men covertly glance up at him.

“Will you fight for us? As free men?” Daenerys’ voice rang out and was met with silence. For a moment. And then a single spear was smacked against the sand. Another joined. And then another. And another until the plaza was filled with the sound of the strange sound of the spears in sand.

They had their army. The city was theirs.

**

They did not leave Astapor immediately. They could not leave the city unguarded or without a stable ruling body. And a way to stabilize the economy.

The city needed to rebuilt from the destruction and just…overall. It was not well kept outside the former masters’ manses. Weeks turned to months as they met with the city’s population, trying to establish a ruling council of men and women who knew the city best and wanted to see it thrive. The Valyrian steel they still had was traded for brick and mortar, food, and medicines. Weapons. And while the city seemed to be getting its metaphorical feet back under itself again, it did nearly deplete their coffers. The gold from the dead masters was seized and redistributed to the freedmen to make sure they could provide for themselves as they settled into the new normal of the city and started their new lives.

The new Kings and Queens of the city took up residence in one of the manses and Balerion found the large open windows a favorite place to nap when he was not harassing the hatchlings, unafraid of their literal ability to breathe fire.

Rhaenys met with a small council of freedmen who had been in charge of the city’s infrastructure and had devised a plan to irrigate the city and its surrounding lands by diverting the water from Astapor’s river, which had been called Worm since the city’s inception. A terrible name, if Y/N was being honest.

But the irrigation was quickly done with new aqueducts and small orchards for plums and olives and lemons were planted, the small khalasar carrying in the plants from outside the city. A vineyard for persimmons was also widened in the center of the city, as Rhaenys knew that Astapor had the ability to make a fairly expensive and tart wine with the fruit. It made Y/N smile to realize that Rhaenys had a gift for creating (an albeit small) fertile wetland out of patch of a desert landscape.

Schools were fitted into the empty manses and training schools were established. It was slow work, true, but Y/N could not argue with the tired smiles that she saw on her charges faces each night as they gathered for dinner.

Jon and Aegon were fond of training alongside the Unsullied who were also helping other freedmen learn how to handle a sword and shield. The army was a force to be feared, truly. Grey Worm, the man they had elected to speak as their commander, had become another advisor. He spoke only High Valyrian as the rest of the Astapor did, but Missandei had been taking the time to teach who she could the Common Tongue. He was a man of the sword in all ways—but Y/N did see how his eyes softened ever so slightly whenever Missandei was in his presence. Small rebellions from former masters were quickly dealt with. There would be no room for it under their new rule. Oberyn and Willas were firm and fair advisors to the four younger regents. When to dispense bloody justice and when to stay their hand, how to broker trade with foreign kingdoms and settle arguments and disputes between their subjects—they provided guidance that Y/N and Ser Jorah could not. Missandei was a voice of the people and helped them truly know their subjects. She was the strongest of them all, Y/N was sure of it. Ellaria had a strength of her own, endearing herself and the young regents to anyone and anyone she encountered by showering them with gold for their trades and commissioning songs.

And the hatchlings were growing even faster, larger by the day. Y/N often went to market in the mornings to buy goats and cows to feed them when the others were still asleep, trying to keep the dragons from eating someone’s livestock without being compensated for it (again).

Drogon nudged her side as she dragged the fresh meat toward him and she patted his warm snout in greeting. “Good morning to you, too.”

Viserion and Rhaegal were still sleeping, curled around each other over the remnants of a fire that had been burnt last night. But Vēzos was already high in the sky, yellow and orange scales glittering in the early morning glow. But she landed after spotting her breakfast and let out a puff of smoke around Y/N’s face in thanks before she devoured her share.

“Y/N!”

She turned abruptly at the sound of Jon’s voice and frowned when she saw the unhidden panic on his pale features. Rhaegal suddenly rose from the embers of his bed and huffed, sensing his bonded’s dread. “What is it?”

**

Mayhaps Y/N should not have been surprised to see Xaro amongst the ‘envoys’ from the other slaver cities. It was not as if they had left Qarth on the best of terms…or unscathed.

“We will give you all the boats and soldiers you want or will need to retake Westeros, as long as you leave Slaver’s Bay. Immediately. And allow us to rectify the mess you have made of Astapor.”

“Removing shackles is a mess? Freeing men, women, and children is a mess?”

Drogon and Rhaegal both rumbled from behind their parents and the envoys all stumbled back, some tripping over their ornate robes and gilded slippers.

“It is our way of life!” Someone from Yunkai shouted, voice trembling.

“And their lives have value—more than the coin that line your palms.”

“Astapor is prospering,” Oberyn said. “Our coffers are twice as plentiful now with our wines and citrus and olives as they were when they traded in flesh and bone.”

“And your slaves have heard,” Rhaenys said. She looked regal on the throne beside her brothers and aunt. The Astapori gown she had commission from a freedwoman was made of a beautiful soft yellow linen and her hair was braided with a pair of golden bells at the end, a gift from Irri who had said she had earned it by helping take Astapor and the defeat of the Warlocks in Qarth. “They have heard of our people prosper. How they are free.” And that was true, there had been whispers of a start of an uprising in Yunkai and Meereen since they had taken Astapor.

“You are suggesting that we should free our slaves for a chance-”

“You were the ones to demand an audience,” Daenerys said. “And we were gracious enough to grant your request. But now that you are here, we do have a request. Free your slaves, pay them for their labor from the time you have sought to own them, and set aside your whips and chains.”

“We will not!” “Never!” On and on, the envoy refused.

“The Harpy will have her due!”

Aegon moved in front of Rhaenys, not even bothering to put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “The Harpy is a legend. A statue you have all built from the gold you have accumulated through the blood of innocents. We have four very real dragons and an army better trained and better equipped than your pampered slavers. Send your harpies.”

**

Y/N groaned as she saw yet another slash she had not remembered receiving when she was readying for bed that night. She had taken to sparring with Jon and Aegon alongside the Unsullied who were not on guard or patrol duties. It had apparently been far too long since she had dedicated time to training of that caliber—not that any of them could even hope to compare to Grey Worm and his compatriots. For now, the threats from Yunkai, Meereen, and Qarth had been unfulfilled. But they were still on their guard. But she did take a few moments of the day to help Dorea and Loreza and Obella work on their fighting stances. Elia, the eldest of the Sand Snakes born to Ellaria, was already very comfortable with her spear and had been taking to training with the Unsullied. Well, they were very patient with her and very gentle—as gentle as they could be. They were a fearsome bunch.

Y/N pulled the linen chemise over her head and reached for her dressing gown after cleaning the small wound.

“My lady,” a soft spoken handmaiden stuck her head into the chambers. “You have a visitor.”

“Send them in, please. I am just about decent enough for company.”

The handmaiden laughed quietly and nodded as Y/N tied the sash around her waist.

“Willas has been quite beneficial—he seems to have a magic touch when it comes to those persimmon trees. They bloom more every day.”

Y/N smiled as she turned to see Oberyn walking into the room. “Well, I have been told he is quite good with anything green. I would not be surprised if he and Rhaenys managed to raise a forest to rival Qohor from the sand.”

Oberyn chuckled and he held out a hand toward her. “Come, take a walk with me before you rest for the night. The night is cool enough for us to enjoy the moonlight.”

Y/N happily took his offered arm and let him lead her out to the gardens around their manse. And it was true, the air was cool and she could hear the faintest rumblings of the sea alongside the murmurs of the city. The gardens were still blooming with flowers despite the heat and the strange flora was a welcome respite from the red brick and sand of the city. It curved and cornered in a strange maze, leading around small fountains, and statues of legendary creatures, never reaching higher than their waists.

“How are your daughters finding the bay?”

“They find the air much like that of Dorne, so they do not mind the heat. But they do enjoy putting their Valyrian lessons to use and trying to learn all they can from the Unsullied.”

“They are formidable.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I would have them no other way. Dorne may be kinder than the other kingdoms of Westeros, but I would not have them unprepared for the rest of the world.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as you have made sure that the four under your care are prepared as well.”

“I have tried my best, my prince.”

Oberyn pulled them to a stop as they neared a bench and they settled next to each other and watched two of the dragons test their wings above them. “We have entered a new world. Dragons have come again. The Martell bloodline is conquering cities.”

“They want to make it a better world. And I want to see them succeed.”

“I will help them in all of their goals, I swear that to you.”

Y/N smiled, knowing what he said was true. She had never known him to break an oath.

“It seems, little shark, that we are not the only ones who thought of admiring the gardens tonight,” Oberyn whispered. He pointed toward the other side of the maze with a growing smile. Willas was standing at Ellaria’s side, looking as red as could be and trying to hide it behind his hand. Ellaria was smiling at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world—but the glint in her beautiful eyes told Y/N that Ellaria knew exactly the effect she was having on the lord.

“He does not quite know how to hold his wine,” Oberyn said with a smirk. “If given too much, he would accept any challenge.”

“Is that why there is now a golden pearl on his ear, my prince?”

Oberyn only chuckled. “You must admit, he looks quite dashing.”

“Yes, he does. But you know I’ve always been fond of his shy smile.”

“And he has been fond of you.”

Y/N clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Perhaps when I was younger, still a young wife in the making with connections to a royal court or two. It has been ages since I have made him smile like that.”

Now it was Oberyn’s turn to shake his head. “Little Lord Willas, heir to one of the most powerful kingdoms in Westeros, has remained unmarried and unattached since you disappeared from Dragonstone, little shark. And it is not for lack of trying from the many unmarried women who know of his status.”

It would be a lie to say that her heart did not clench when it was said aloud and so bluntly. “It would be foolish to think-”

“Despite his family’s animosity, he and I have…become friends.”

“Friends?” Y/N parroted with an arch of her eyebrow.

Oberyn’s wolfish smile made her stomach flip, as it always did. “You know I treat my friends well.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, biting her lip. “No wonder he has remained unmarried. Who could compete with the Red Viper?”

Oberyn’s warm hand settled over hers and squeezed. “You know I am not opposed to having a married person in my bed. It was not me who kept him from calling someone wife.”

Y/N scoffed. “You cannot be insinuating that I-”

“I’m not insinuating anything, little shark. I am telling you. The man has been in love with you since you first came to Westeros. When he was still a shy young thing and you were the foreign maid who acted as my sister’s shadow.”

“We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. I am now old enough to be considered an old maid-”

“And the heart wants what the heart wants. He has come half way across the world because you asked him to. Now, tell me, why did you ask him?”

“I…” She tried to think of an answer. Because he had helped her flee. Because he was a friend. Because because because. But none of those reasons seemed like the truth. “I do not know.”

**

A small skirmish had broken out on the borders of Astapor. The sellsword company known as the Windblown had allegedly been hired by Yunkai to deal with the ‘dragon kings and queens.’ It, of course, hadn’t worked and they were pushed back the Unsullied.

The fight had only given them all credence to continue to feed the rebellions in the other cities and slowly cut off their supply chains at the mouth of the bay. This morning, Y/N was reviewing the takings from the ships they had seized when she noticed a familiar face was missing.

“Where has Oberyn gone?” Y/N asked as she entered the kitchens, finding Ellaria there, pouring a bit of honey over a bowl of berries.

“He set off in the night, some mission on his mind.”

“You did not go with him?” Y/N asked as she slipped into the seat beside her, plucking a handful of berries from the bowl. “I am surprised he would not have you at his side.”

Ellaria chuckled and shook her head. “He asked, but I did not think our daughters would like to be too far from the excitement of the cities.” She popped a berry between her beautiful lips with a growing smile. “And I did hope we could know each other a little better. Oberyn always speaks of you so fondly. I feel as if we are friends already.”

Y/N felt a wash of warmth as she looked at the other woman and nodded. “I feel that way as well. But I would be honored if I could steal a bit of your time today, if your daughters would not mind.”

Ellaria gave her another dashing smile. “I am sure they will survive a few hours without me.”

And so, Y/N let Ellaria lead her around the city, mostly through the markets that Y/N had not had the chance to truly peruse. And it was true, they had settled into a camaraderie that usually took years to build. Ellaria might have been the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen, but she was also kind and funny and had a sharp wit with a matching, striking smile. Y/N only wished she’d had the fortune of having her as a friend years ago—but Y/N would take what she could get now. And hold to it desperately.

“This?” Y/N held up a pale lilac bit of silk, they had been trying to find the right fabric for a new dress for Y/N—apparently Ellaria found Y/N’s lack of dresses something to be rectified.

Ellaria shook her head and picked up a stretch of red lace, filled with delicate flowers with tiny golden thread woven within. Ellaria draped it over Y/N’s shoulder with a smile. “This suits you. The flowers. Just a touch of gold. It is delicate—like you.”

Y/N chuckled and let her finger slide against the edge of the lace. “I do not think I have ever been called delicate.”

Ellaria’s soft fingers gently grasped Y/N’s chin and there was a steely determination in her gaze as she looked into Y/N’s eyes. “You are delicate, Y/N. Your skin and soul may have been forged in steel, but your heart is delicate. You have a soft, gentle heart. And you are ever the more beautiful for it.” Her hand moved to cradle Y/N’s cheek, surely feeling its warmth. “Do you not see yourself as I do?”

“Apparently not,” Y/N said with a shake of her head, not too rough to have Ellaria’s touch leave.

“You are,” she said and then leaned close enough to just barely brush her lips against hers before she pulled the lace from around Y/N’s shoulders and turned back to the merchant. “We will take all of this. Thank you.”

And then Ellaria was all but hauling her back into the cooled shadows of their manse and out into the gardens again, dropping their lace and silks off into the hands of a smiling handmaiden who giggled as they walked by.

It was just the pair of them in the garden, listening to the trickling of water and the wind as it rustled the rigged leaves and branches of the maze. But all Y/N could feel, see, hear, was Ellaria.

Ellaria and her beautiful lips.

Ellaria’s mouth was soft as it moved against hers. And she sighed so prettily when Y/N tangled her fingers into her thick hair and tugged.

“Oh.”

Y/N pulled away from Ellaria’s beautiful mouth to see Willas standing near one of the fountains, a pink tinge to his cheeks and a white-knuckle grip on his cane.

“Lord Willas,” Ellaria called out, her voice husky, “join us.”

Willas looked away, cheeks still roaring with color, and shook his head. “I am afraid I would only…get in the way.” He cleared his throat and turned. “Please, excuse me.”

Y/N watched him go, mind clearing for a moment, and frowned.

Ellaria dragged her lips against Y/N’s cheek. “He will join us when he’s ready. I promise you that.” She sponged a kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “But I do not want to be interrupted again. If you are agreeable, I want to see what you have hiding under this hideous tunic.”

And well, Y/N could never tell her no and led her back to her chambers and locked the door.

Ellaria was even softer beneath her fine, silk dress that Y/N slowly pushed down her arms to greedily cup her full breasts in her hands.

“Eager,” Ellaria said with a breathy chuckle.

Y/N could only whine against her mouth as she felt Ellaria’s nimble fingers slide easily beneath the tops of her leather breeches. They were pushed down her legs and her loose tunic was pulled up and over her head before Ellaria all but shoved her back onto the featherbed, watching her bounce with a smile. Y/N didn’t even have thought to be a little shy over her nakedness—she just wanted Ellaria close again. And then Ellaria was crawling up the bed and settling across Y/N’s stomach, warm thighs bracketing her ribs. And there was something nearly magical with knowing she was the cause of the slick spot she could feel growing just above her belly button. She had made Ellaria feel like that.

Y/N’s hands slid up her smooth skin to hold her hips and Ellaria’s hands settled over hers with a widening smile.

“I like seeing you like this,” Ellaria said before leaning down to lick across Y/N’s mouth before kissing her thoroughly, oh so easily stealing the breath from her lungs. Then she moved. Her lips trailed down Y/N’s neck, to her chest, teeth scraping against the curve of her breasts as she slid down Y/N’s body, and dragged her slick lips against Y/N’s skin. Her mind was a warm mess—all there was, was Ellaria and her beautiful mouth. Ellaria and her perfect hands. Ellaria and her wet tongue.

Ellaria slipped between Y/N’s legs and kissed her left hip and then her right before licking a bold stripe against Y/N’s folds, wrenching a broken moan from her lips. “So pretty,” Ellaria cooed. And her grip tightened. Again and again the Dornishwoman’s tongue curled and twisted and Y/N could feel an unfamiliar coil start to tighten in her stomach as her thighs suddenly clamped around Ellaria’s head. The woman only laughed against her core and the vibrations had Y/N moaning, hands reaching down to tangle in Ellaria’s perfect, perfumed hair. Ellaria managed to wriggle her hand between them and curled one finger and then two into the wet heat of Y/N’s core and started to slide them in and out, in and out, wet sounds filling the air alongside Y/N’s growing moans.

It was perfect. She was perfect. And as soon as Ellaria curled her fingers, the coil snapped and Y/N sobbed. Her heart was racing, sweat and dotted her chest and brow but she felt beautiful and her vision cleared and she looked down to see Ellaria pressing her cheek against her hip, drawing shapes against her heated skin with the dull nail of her forefinger.

“You must teach me how to do that. I want to make you feel like this.”

And so…Ellaria did.

**

The next morning, Ellaria was still sleeping peacefully, tangled in Y/N’s silken blankets as she rose with the sun. Y/N gently pressed a kiss to her cheek and slipped away from her comforting warmth to ready for the day and found Daenerys sitting on one of the manse’s balconies, watching the four hatchlings soar above the gardens as the sun grew hotter and higher in the sky. Y/N sat beside her and had a bit of food brought out so they could break their fast together. Daenerys seemed…happy. Truly. Happier than she had been since Y/N had seen her last, as a child. But there was something she was not saying. Y/N knew it.

“Tell me what is on your mind, Dany.” She reached out and gently grasped the young princess’ hand and squeezed three times.

“I do not…” She paused. “I was born on Dragonstone. I am the princess of the rightful ruling family.” She pushed out a long breath. “I will see my niece on the Iron Throne and I know the kingdom will be better for it.”

“But?” Y/N asked, knowing there was something else that needed to be said.

“But I do not know if Westeros is my home. I have no memories of it. Jon and Aegon do not either but they still feel some sort of calling, a need to go back.” The wind blew a bit of her silver hair across her face as she looked out across the bay. “I do not feel that. Viserys sold me for the throne he thought he deserved and I found a small bit of solace in my few friends in my khalasar and then more here with the Unsullied and the freedmen of the bay.”

Y/N watched a few emotions flitter across Daenerys’ face before she turned back to the bay, too. “You have been pushed and pulled to one place or another your entire life, Dany. Finding a place where you feel at home is something to be proud of. Do not let other people’s opinions or aspirations dictate yours. You deserve a home. Peace.”

“And where is your home? Skilliga?”

Y/N shrugged. “Skilliga has housed me and raised me just as much as Westeros and Essos has, I suppose. I know my uncle and cousins are safe and happy there. I know that I will be able to hear and taste the sea from my rooms again if I ever went back.” She sighed. “But I think I have seen too much of the world to be happy on my little island again, for the rest of my life.”

“Mayhaps you can find a home with Lord Willas. I have heard how he calls on you—ever so sweetly.”

Y/N groaned. “Not you as well, Dany!”

The girl only laughed.

Y/N sighed. “Either way, if you want to stay in Essos, you can. What is a few thousand miles to a dragon, hm? Nothing. Your family will never be too far.” She tugged at the end of Daenerys’ braid and listened to the Dothraki bells she had earned ring. “But you mustn’t think of it just yet, Dany. We still have so much more to do.” She pressed a smile to her face. “We have time.”

Daenerys giggled and shook her head. “And we still have so much to do this side of the Narrow Sea.”

**

It had been ages since Y/N had thought of sacking a city. She used to dream of it as a little girl, bringing home riches and other pretty things to fill her rooms and make her parents proud. But perhaps her parents were more bloodthirsty than the rest of Skilliga—and that had been why Uncle Hammond had sent her away to Westeros, to try to quell that need for violence with the niceties of a foreign court and responsibility. But, she had to ask herself as she looked over the maps of the cities and waterways and tunnels, that hadn’t quite worked, had it?

Obara and Nymeria were near-master tacticians, easily finding ways Y/N did not see to surround the city and infiltrate even the thickest of defense walls. But their true expertise, it seemed, in planning diversions.

“I can take a small battalion of freedmen to the west gate and use the two battering rams we have made from the scraps of Valyrian steel.”

“That will give Grey Worm’s host enough of time to march through the South Gate which will be raised by Belwas.”

Dorea was seated on Y/N’s lap, as she often was during war room discussions, moving the pieces across the war map along with her sisters’ plans. Y/N never did mind when she first crawled atop her legs without invitation but had welcomed her every time it happened. She reminded Y/N of the quietly intelligent but playful Rhaenys used to be.

“I like this color,” Dorea said, holding up the Martell orange token embellished with the familiar red dragon of House Targaryen.

“It is pretty, is it not?” Y/N answered. “Can you put that at the West Gate for me?”

The little girl did happily.

“Thank you, Dorea,” She said as she gently swept Dorea’s hair away from her forehead, it had fallen from the intricate braid Ellaria had woven this morning. “We shall make a strategist out of you yet.”

She happily laughed and it drew more smiles from Obara and Nymeria. “I’m hungry.”

“I think the kitchens are just about ready for luncheon, little one. Why don’t you go see?”

Dorea leapt from Y/N’s lap and scurried away with another laugh.

“You are good with her.”

“I have had plenty of practice.”

“When you have your own, I am sure even the nurses will know less than you.”

Y/N huffed at Nymeria’s well-intentioned remark. “I am not sure if I will have any of my own.”

“Why not?” Obara asked, arching one of her dark eyebrows. “It is obvious you crave for some of your own.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond when the door to the war room opened and Tyene ran inside, her pale cheeks were filled with color and her eyes darted to her sisters.

“Someone has breached our walls.”

Y/N was running out of the room before she could hear the rest of what Tyene had said—she sprinted toward the kitchens, where she knew her charges were probably gathering for their next meal.

And she was, unfortunately, correct.

And it seemed the intruder knew their schedule as well.

Two men with golden harpy masks had Daenerys at the end of their swords. Little Dorea was standing behind her, eyes narrowed. The bodies of the kitchen maids were on the floor, crimson puddles staining the marble floors.

Y/N had meant to sneak up on them. Truly. They hadn’t noticed her presence just yet-

But Aegon and Jon burst in through the other door and drew the harpies’ attention. They pivoted and their swords raised. Y/N shoved Aegon out of the way and felt the warm steel sink into her stomach. And then it happened again, the blade finding the bone of her hip as it broke through. Blood bubbled in her mouth with her next breath and she watched, in a haze, as Jon took one of the men’s head from his shoulders.

“Y/N?” Rhaenys’ voice was fading in her ears as she fell to her knees, she barely saw her eldest standing in the kitchen doorway.

There was a scuffle with the other man, but she hardly noticed, feeling her heart beat in time with the warmth coating her hands. It drip drip dripped onto the marble in an uneven staccato.

It took her a moment to realize that both Rhaenys and Daenerys were trying to speak to her, their little hands pressing over her wounds and trying to staunch the bleeding.

“That hurts,” Y/N said, words tumbling from her mouth without thought. Of course it hurt. She had been stabbed.

“I cannot do this without you,” Rhaenys cried.

“You will be just fine, sunshine.”

Daenerys was yelling for the healers as Aegon and Jon held the other Harpy on his knees.

“Don’t speak like that,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Y/N wanted to say something, wanted to say that she knew Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt would be fine—they would shape the world into a better place with Oberyn, Ellaria, and Willas at their side. She knew because she had seen it—that maybe a bit of the old magic had finally stirred in her foreigner blood. But her blood was currently filling her mouth and her world went dark.

**

She remembered very little from her time under the healer’s hands. Pain, the smell of Milk of the Poppy, someone was crying. And then nothing. Nothing.

Nothing until a warm, soft hand gently cradled her cheek. “I will wait,” someone whispered. “I have waited years, I can wait a few moons longer.”

But she woke, fully, as soon as she could and was told that her movements would be stilted and painful for some time.

Willas was at her side when her eyes opened, clear for the first time in weeks even if her brain did still feel fogged with the Milk of the Poppy. “It is good to see your beautiful eyes again, my lady. We have all missed you.” She spotted Balerion at the foot of the featherbed, looking more content to be in her presence than he had ever been before.

Y/N reached out and scratched behind Balerion's ears before she touched Willas' hand and watched his shoulders sag, as if he had been carrying some unseen weight across his back and had finally been relieved of it. “I mean this in the best way, my lord. But you look as if you have not rested in weeks.”

Willas huffed. “I have not. Most of us have not. We have been taking shifts to be at your side. The healers have said it would be best to keep an eye on you. Lady Ellaria just left, she has been the most dutiful to be at your bedside beside Her Grace, Rhaenys. Oberyn has been diligent in making sure your wrappings were changed.” He squeezed at her hand. “Do I truly look so unwell?”

Y/N smiled, feeling her dry lips crack with the motion. “Still handsome. As always, my lord.”

“Please, call me Willas.”

“We are alone, I suppose it could be appropriate-”

“Always, please, simply call me Willas. We have known each other long enough. Willas. I am Willas just as you are my Y/N.”

“My Willas.” She liked the sound of it. She liked it even more when his cheeks once again bloomed a pretty pink. “Tell me, my Willas, what have I missed since I have come to this bed?”

Apparently she had missed quite a bit.

Yunkai and Meereen had both fallen under the weight of the combined armies of the Unsullied, trained Freedmen, and the Second Sons—and bolstered by the revolts Aegon and Grey Worm had started by slipping into the cities under the cover of darkness to speak to anyone who would listen. Daenerys had united almost all of the Dothraki under a single khalasar and had been named the Great Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, commanding a group of Dothraki the world had never seen. Ser Jorah had been sent away after it had been discovered that he had been sending information to King Robert about the movements of Daenerys and Viserys and had been the reason assassins had been able to track them across Essos. Norvos and Qohor had freed their slaves without the threat of dragons—both cities cited the coming of dragons and magic and prophecy (but Y/N hypothesized that the Dothraki might have ‘helped’ their decision). It was all very…strange. Whispers from the red priests and priestess of the Red God of R’hllor, the Lord of Light, were spreading through all of western Essos, calling the four The Princes who were Promised. Azor Ahai, a prophesized hero. And Oberyn had contracted his old sellsword company, the Second Sons, bringing them under his employ to help bolster their forces. That was where he had gone, apparently he had returned only a few moments after Y/N had been carted off to the healers. Blood was still covering the kitchen when he had come in.

“I have only seen him so distressed once before,” Willas said, still holding her hand.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Lady Ellaria, after bringing little Loreza into the world, she kept…bleeding. And Loreza was called ‘sickly’ and ‘weak.’ The maesters told him to expect to lose them both before the sun went down. I have never seen a man so in love and so enraged. He raged at the world. Pleaded with the gods, cursed them. Oberyn threw the maesters out of the palace and sent for a healer from the Orphans of the Greenblood, an elder wise woman who kept the old gods of the Rhoynar. And she came. When the moon rose, Ellaria was holding little Loreza to her breast and she was smiling.” His thumb drew small circles on the back of her hand. “He only smiled again when he kissed them, moon high in the sky and with river water on his skin.” He sighed and a small smile pushed up his lips. “And then he saw you, covered in your own blood and about to welcome the Stranger with both arms. And I saw that desperate, raging man again.”

Y/N looked at him then, watched his untamed, dark curls fall over his forehead and she reached out with her free hand to gently push them back. Willas leaned into her touch and her heart leapt into throat when he turned his face just the slightest bit to slide his lips against the pulse of her wrist. “But I am here now. I am healing.”

“You are. But there is much more to do, is there not? And you will not stop. Not while your hatchlings, Aegon, Rhaenys, Jon, and Daenerys, still need you.” His grip tightened on her hand just a moment. “You will not stop,” he repeated.

“You know I cannot.”

“Then I will be beside you until this is finished.” He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “And I still have more to tell you.”

The declarations of war from Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, and Pentos were more of what she was expecting. The might of Braavos and the few war ships little Lorath had were pledged to the Martells’ and Targaryens’ cause.

War had come to Essos again.

**

Y/N supposed she should not have been surprised that a few hundred people decided to leave the Bay and follow them toward the Free Cities. Leaving a city in search of a better life was something she had done, many times over.

Volantis had fallen, surrendered and another city had been added to the growing empire. Like in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen, they had settled in the city and weeded out possible uprisings and subterfuge while redistributing the former masters’ wealth and resources to those who deserved it.

When they continued on, part of their army was left to help protect them and help the new council of Freedmen who had pledged loyalty to Rhaenys, Aegon, Jon, and Daenerys.

But before they moved on toward the Free Cities, who were already warring with Braavos and a few battalions sent by Qohor and Norvos, they stopped, once again, at Chroyane.

“I have never seen anything more beautiful,” Oberyn said, a large smile splitting his face. “Even in ruin, she is magnificent.”

The two littlest of the Sand Snakes shrieked at the sight and all but leapt from their horse and into the clear river water. Ellaria laughed as she watched them before tying up her skirt to follow suit.

It was a welcome reprieve. Y/N’s scars ached when she moved too quickly sometimes and the constant jostling of her mare sometimes only made it worse. It felt good to dip her feet into the cooled waters and listen to the children laugh and splash in the river. Balerion once again watched one of the giant turtles with calculating eyes as he let the sun warm his black fur.

Oberyn settled at Y/N’s side on the bank of the river and watched the sun set in a quiet companionship. “I never thought I would see this. I never thought the sun would shine on this part of the world again. And here it is, as beautiful as ever.”

“It is almost as if the Mother Rhoyne was simply waiting for them,” Y/N said, tilting her head just so to indicated Rhaenys and Aegon who were now splashing around with Ellaria and her daughters, dodging Tyene and Nymeria’s hands as they tried to dunk them into the slow moving waves.

The four dragons trilled above them in the crystal blue sky, as content as their bonded.

Oberyn’s roughened, warm hand settled over hers on the bank. Without a word, he leaned into her and pressed a slow kiss against the side of her neck but she felt him smile against her skin as she shivered. “You are magnificent, little shark. I owe you, my family owes you a great debt.”

“I am owed nothing. I only want to see them grow and succeed. I love them.”

“And they love you,” Oberyn said as he sat back to look at her, smile at her in the sun. “My family loves you. I love you.”

Her heart stuttered. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. You have made it easy.”

Y/N dropped her chin to her chest, hiding her smile before Oberyn’s finger hooked under her chin and he kissed her briefly.

“Papa!” Dorea called out. “Come play with us!”

Y/N drew back to see his daughters waving him forward, all of them positively drenched. “Go,” Y/N said with a laugh. “You are being summoned.”

Oberyn kissed her cheek before rising and then making a show of running and jumping into the river near them, splashing them all in one motion.

Y/N roared with laughter at the scene but quickly stood when she saw Nymeria and Ellaria turn their gazes to her, hands cupped with water and ready to splash. “Not today!” Y/N stumbled to her feet and managed to evade most of the aimed water as she laughed.

She walked barefoot through the ruins and over the riverbank, seeing their traveling party all partaking in the clean water and cool air. For a moment, there was peace. She spotted Missandei and Grey Worm quietly speaking on the broken stone of a palace, their feet in the water. Irri and Jhiqui were happily watering their horses further downstream while a few other members of the khalasar were racing their mounts through the tall, green grass. Daenerys and Jon were both pulling more weapons from the muck at the opposite bank and handing them off to whomever was by.

But it was Willas, sitting a little further away from the river, which caught her eye. He was cross-legged on the green grass, fiddling with something on his lap while his cane was settled beside him. The sun was shining on his dark hair, curls once again a bit mussed.

“What are you making?”

“A crown,” Willas said, cheeks once again blooming with color as she sat beside him. “My little sister taught me how to do it a few years ago. We would sit in the fields around Highgarden and pluck wildflowers to string together. Hers were always much more polished than mine.”

Y/N leaned a little closer to see that while it might not have been perfectly braided, it was still tightly woven and the flowers were in full bloom. “I think yours is well done, Willas. Will you teach me?”

Y/N laughed as Willas dropped the haphazard crown of white blooms onto her head and it nearly fell over her eyes. “I will let you have mine,” he said, but he did tried to teach her—until Y/N’s indelicate fingers ruined her third crown and she gave up, throwing herself back into the soft grass with a laugh. She reached up for a moment and grabbed the back of Willas’ tunic, pulling him down beside her.

They spoke for a little bit, of magic, of Highgarden, of their adventures in the Bay—now affectionately and rightly dubbed Dragon’s Bay. It was easy.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Y/N hummed at the question, mulling the answers in her mind. “I have lived and crossed the Narrow Sea, the Summer Sea, too. I have tasted and tested the Jade Sea. The Shivering Sea holds no value to me and that only leaves…”

“The Sunset Sea.” Willas nodded. She might have noticed a bit of pink touch his cheeks but she did not mention it. “The Mander, the river in the Reach, rushes by Highgarden and empties into the Sunset Sea.” He cleared his throat. “I could… House Tyrell has barges which sail that route easily. I would be happy to make sure you see your wish fulfilled.”

Y/N smiled and shook her head as she turned in the grass to look at him. “You are far too kind, Lord Willas. But what of you? Where would you go?”

The pink was raging on his cheeks now. “I would wish to only be at your side.”

Y/N felt her next breath stall in her throat and she looked at him, his cheeks still filled with pink but his blue eyes were so earnest—they had always been so lovely. “I suppose I do provide a bit of adventure.”

“You provide much more than that. I promise you.”

She wanted to say something. She wanted to say that he provided so much more than anything she could have hoped for but, it seemed that fate had other plans. “Y/N!”

She sat up from the grass to see Daenerys and a still-damp Rhaenys waving her over. The ground shook as both Drogon and Vēzos landed. They made quite a pair, the black and the yellow. “What is it, my loves?”

“We are taking them up to test their wings with riders again.” It had been a new practice, apparently, for all four of them to take their dragons to flight. They were surely large enough for it now.

Daenerys quickly climbed onto Drogon’s back and Rhaenys did the same.

“Come with me,” Rhaenys said, extending a hand toward Y/N. “Fly.”

Without thought, Y/N took Rhaenys’ hand and let her pull her up onto Vēzos’ back. And then, with a rumble, they were taking to the sky, the cool air whipping over her skin as she held, probably too tightly, to the spikes along the dragon’s back. But she listened to Rhaenys laugh and saw Daenerys smile and her momentary fear vanished. They were happy.

And she was flying.

When they landed, a small group of Freedmen were waiting for them and asked for an audience with Rhaenys which she quickly agreed to, always willing to hear anything her subjects would bring to her.

“Your Grace,” one man said, a timid smile on his face. “It would be a great honor if we could rebuild the palace for you and your family. The city.”

Rhaenys shook her head as she reached out toward the man and gently took his rough hands. “Your life is your own. You do not need to rebuild the city simply because I find it lovely.”

The man ducked his head, smile growing. “We know it is not an order you would give, Your Grace. We have made a…” he frowned, searching for the word, “council, as you have in Astapor and Yunkai and Meereen. And we want to stay here, rebuild. The soil is fertile, the trade possibility is strong. We could build a home here, beautiful and strong like it once was.”

Y/N watched Rhaenys’ eyes fill with tears and she diverted her gaze, letting the young queen compose herself.

“And you truly believe that your families could be happy here? It could take years before it is fully rebuilt.”

The man nodded and looked at Rhaenys, his small smile growing. “It will be hard work, but I know it would be worth it, Your Grace. A new home for us, for your family.”

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she squeezed the man’s hands again. “Then it would be an honor.”

**

The Disputed Lands had been feuded over and razed and rebuilt over and over again since the Doom. Lys, Tyrosh, and Myr all laid claim to them and would war with the others over the fertile soil. But they now belonged to Rhaenys and her brothers and aunt.

Braavos and Lorath were making almost embarrassingly quick work of conquering the cities with the help of another set of sellsword companies from the north and east, and with the Dragons and their armies making war on them from the west and Y/N and Willas led a small fleet of ships outfitted with weapons salvaged from the Chroyane sailing from the South, it was finished within a few short moons.

The Sealord of Braavos met them just outside the high walls of Pentos, presenting them with the signed surrender of the magistrates and city prince—and a few extra ‘gifts.’ One was the head of Illyrio Mopatis. The next two were faces she barely recognized—and truly, she recognized their names more than their persons. Tyrion Lannister and Varys both had chains around their wrists but seemed pleased with the situation. “They say they want to swear loyalty to your dragon kings and queens.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N’s eyes dragged over the pair, distrusting. “Most do after they see dragonfire.” The fire still blazing behind the walls scented the air.

Y/N left her charges to speak politics with their ally and went to check on the dragons as they rested in the fields. The four had fought bravely, if not a little erratically. They were still getting used to battles and they were still young. They were fearsome though, and Y/N loved them as their riders did. The large creatures huffed in welcome as she neared and she patted their sides in hello.

Oberyn carefully walked toward them, knowing that the dragons recognized him but was still cautious. When they accepted his familiar scent, they either lowered their heads to rest again or nudged him once in greeting. “They are protective of you,” Oberyn said as he watched Y/N stroke at Drogon’s nose, content. “You may not be their bonded rider, but they know you just the same.”

“I think it is because their riders smell like me.”

Drogon huffed.

“He disagrees,” Oberyn said with a laugh. “They recognize you because they feel what their bonded riders feel.”

“I would not argue with a dragon,” Ellaria laughed as she joined them in the field. She reached out and stroked Rhaegal’s side. “They are calling for the Queenmaker,” she said as she watched Rhaegal’s wings stretch.

Y/N sighed. She had earned a few monikers during the conquest of western Essos. She had been called Queenmaker. The Sea Dragon. Preposterous names, truly. The four had given themselves their crowns, forged their own paths. She just made sure they had survived to this point. She did not make them. And she had no dragon of her own. But she answered to the monikers anyway. It was less of an argument. “What has happened now?”

Ellaria chuckled. “I do believe it is to settle a dispute between a few of your Corsairs.”

Y/N nodded and excused herself but was stopped when Ellaria grasped her wrist. She kissed her quickly with a smile. “Come back soon. It has been a long day.”

And Y/N quickly hurried off, a smile on her face.

**

They settled in Pentos. The throne that once belonged to the Prince of Pentos had been divided into four equal chairs, just as all the thrones of the cities they had conquered had been. The rooms were thankfully spacious and an entire room had been filled with the scrap Valyrian Steel they had taken from the ruins and mud of the Chroyane. It would provide food and protection for their new empire if spent correctly—and Willas was already making sure that food was being traded responsibly and fairly between the cities while the sellsword companies they had paid were continuing to be paid to keep their loyalty. And he was also mostly in charge of the ‘care’ of their two Westerosi guests. Tyrion and Varys had proven mostly useful with their knowledge about the political turmoil currently engulfing the Seven Kingdoms and bringing news of the “terrible” death of Tywin Lannister while also providing possible battle plans when they finally did make land for Rhaenys’ crown. But Y/N still did not like them.

But that was not her mission for the day (despite realizing how handsome Willas looked while poring over the parchment detailing food storage and trade routes in his chambers with a slumbering Balerion on his lap). No. Aegon’s ten-and-six nameday was nearly upon them and Y/N had the perfect present in mind. She had given a set of Valyrian Steel-tipped arrows and a dragonbone bow to Rhaenys for her ten-and-sixth nameday, and now it was Aegon’s turn. The stupid lion head pommel was not Valyrian steel so she had no problem seeing it hacked off and reworked. The smith was quick and skilled, easily melting the gold into a puddle to be reformed. She watched him work, perching on the rickety stool in the corner and talking with him as the smoke and steam from his work clouded the forge. He was a genial man, happy to tell his story and hear hers in return. “They are blessed to have you, the little kings and queens.”

Y/N laughed and shook her head. “No, no. I am the blessed. They have been the lights of my life.”

“You have no children?”

Y/N nearly choked on her breath at the blunt question. “N-no. I have been… They have been my children, I suppose.”

The smith nodded at that and then continued to work in silence, attaching the new pommel to the rest of the jeweled hilt. He made it look easy and handed over the sword, now topped with a sun. It was perfect—and finished just in time.

She presented it to him at the end of his favorite meal and laughed when he tried to hug her, still holding the blade out in front of him.

“Let me see it!” Oberyn said with a laugh and Aegon happily handed it over to his uncle who inspected it with a practiced eye. Y/N did not expect the laughter that bubbled out of Oberyn’s throat but it made her smile either way. “Did this have a lion’s head, little shark?”

Y/N nodded.

Oberyn handed the blade back over to Aegon with a flourish. “You are holding the Valyrian steel sword that House Lannister once wielded. I find it…poetic that you will now call it your own.”

“But it needs a name!” Jon said. “All good swords need a name.”

Aegon held the sword up as Rhaenys and Daenerys cheered alongside their family. “It shall be called Sunshard.”

Perhaps she could convince him to change it later or Jon would come up with a better name for the Valyrian Steel axe she had stowed away for his next nameday or the dagger she would give to Daenerys for hers. But for now, she let Aegon swing the sword around like he was a little boy in the training grounds again.

For now, they were happy.

When the celebration died down and they dispersed for the night, the taste of honeycakes and lemon still on their tongues, Y/N found herself surprised to find Daenerys and Rhaenys waiting for her in the small solar connected to her chambers.

“This is a surprise, my loves. How may I help you?”

Rhaenys reached out her hands for Y/N to take and squeezed them both three times with a smile as she pulled her down on the cushioned bench between them. “Today was a joyous day. One finally filled without war or training or bloodshed.”

“We have all fought hard for it,” Daenerys murmured.

“You were a child yourself when you took us with you to Essos. Where had your childhood gone? The court at the Red Keep. Running and hiding with three babes who were not yours through a foreign land.”

“I made that choice. And I would make it again-”

“I am asking you to make the choice to be happy. To let yourself have an adventure without worrying over us.”

“I will always worry over you.”

“Just as we worry over you. You have been our guiding hand, our fiercest protector and staunchest supporter. Our most loyal older sibling. You have loved us. We love you. And we want you to be happy.”

Y/N turned to Daenerys as if that would provide some sort of answer. “Are you asking me to leave your side?”

“Never!” Both Rhaenys and Daenerys shouted.

“We will never send you away. But, we want you to know that if you are called to someone’s side, we want you to be happy.”

“What has brought this on? Have I said something?” The words caught in her throat but Rhaenys simply squeezed her hands again. One two three.

“No. But we have realized that you have set aside everything for us. And we simply want you to be happy.”

They each leaned forward and kissed her on the cheeks. The three spoke for a little longer, calming Y/N’s strange fear of being sent away, before they excused themselves with matching yawns. But Y/N could not sleep. Not with that strange revelation singing in her ears.

She pulled on her dressing gown and padded down to the gardens of the palace. She could hear the sea and it was a small comfort. But she turned at the familiar tap of a cane against stone and smiled as Willas settled beside her.

“You could not sleep either?”

He shook his head, curls sliding against his ears. “I suppose I am now accustomed to a little more excitement during the day to tire me out.”

Y/N chuckled and angled her head up to look at the glittering stars. “But it was a good day. I can sleep late tomorrow.”

The pair was quiet for a moment, the comfortable silence between them only broken by the inconsistent chittering of a bird or the sea crashing against the city walls.

“When this is over, will you rest?”

Y/N frowned at the question and turned to look at him. “Rest?”

“When the little hatchlings are settled in their kingdoms and safe. Where will you be?”

“I…” She tried to find the words she needed but she did not know the answer.

Willas reached out and gently grasped her hand. “You deserve rest too, my lady.” He looked at her, blue eyes shining and a familiar pink tint to his cheeks.

The quiet moment was cut short by a violent scream—one Y/N knew too well. She leapt to her feet and dashed back into the palace. Y/N pushed through the hall and burst into Rhaenys’ room to see her shivering on her bed. “Oh, my sunshine.”

Rhaenys reached out for her and Y/N instantly wrapped her arms around her as they sunk into the plush featherbed. “They have come again,” she whispered. “The cold. The ice. The terrible dead men. They are haunting me again.” Rhaenys reached up and played with the sun pendant. And then she was a little girl again and Y/N was reading her a story about talking turtles to help her sleep. “We have to go back to Westeros,” Rhaenys said, voice soft but steady. “They are coming.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Your reblogs, likes, and comments mean the world to me!

(and another banner by the lovely @thesadvampire​) 

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @pettyprocrastination @evyiione @elinedjarin @xsadderdazeforeverx @revolution-starter

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

The Dragon has Three Heads

"Three heads of the dragon... yes... but the third will not necessarily BE a Targaryen..."

~ GRRM @ at some convention

The conclusion is simple. The heads of the dragon refer to people and while the two are Targaryens, the third might not be one.

We can ignore anything that says this group of things are of different things (for example, I've seen "two Targaryens plus a concept"), as that makes no narrative sense. The key is exactly that last sentence, the third one may not be a Targaryen, which implies the three heads are all people and that two are Targaryens and the third is not quite one. Therefore, these three dragon heads must refer to people associated with dragon, with two of them being Targaryens but the last one not necessarily being one.

The most popular theory is that the two Targaryens are Danerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, with the third being the youngster that claims to be Aegon VI Targaryen and appears first in ADWD. This identification ignores the narrative framework for both Aegon VI Targareyn and Jon Snow.

On one hand, Aegon is often associated with kingly imagery (for example, the chapter he's introduced starts with six chests, the kid himself is introduced as standing at a higher ground than the rest, and ends with a turtle who is said to witness the birth of kings), he's accompanied by a lot associated with his parents such as Jon Connington (his father's hand of the kind) and some dornish / royne people (his mother's land and culture). Another thing to note is that Varys introduces him as the real thing to a dying man.

Moreover, there is at least one "baby switch" story that shadows this one, a prince baby being switched with a nobody, sent away to protect against a Baratheon. In specific, Mance Rayder's son (the wildling "king") being switched with Gilly's son, then sent South for protection against another Baratheon, which is notably a plan concocted by Jon Snow (another of Rhaegar's kids, as if preparing him and the reader to "believe" such a scenario is possible).

On the other hand, Jon Snow's core character revolves around two facts, that he is a bastard and that he loves his Stark family. The reveal that he's not Eddard Stark's bastard but Lyanna Stark's child doesn't erase the latter, as he's a Stark through his mother. Still, the nature of Rhaegar and Lyanna's relationship may erase the former. If Jon is illegitimate, that doesn't erase the former, but if he's legitimate somehow (Targaryens are said to take multiple wives), that erases the former and replaces it another. It can go either way.

Moreover, there is at least one "legitimized bastard" story that shadows this one. In specific, Jon Snow is offered to be legitimised both by Stannis Baratheon (something that is a true temptation, as it would give him everything he secretely longed for all his life), but also by Robb's will as it names Jon Snow as his heir over sisters and that's only possible through legitimising him. It's my conviction that "the rule of three" applies, therefore that Jon will reject Robb's will like he rejected Stannis' offer, but will have a third legitimization opportunity and that this time around he'll acept.

To be more specific and in contrast with Aegon, who's introduced with kingly imagery, Jon is introduced with bastardy imagery. Bran introduces him into the narratve as his bastard brother, while Jon's first POV chapter starts with him musing that he's a bastard. While Jon has "kingly" imagery, it doesn't come associated with imagery from his father's side, and seems to be self-contained to the North (for example, the first inside joke is "kings hiding under the snow" or Mormont's crow calling him king while he's at the wall). Jon's hidden parentage comes along with prince imagery instead (for example, the anti-parallel with bastard prince Joffrey). With my conviction explained above, I do believe it will come to Aegon legitimising Jon as his heir until he has kids (a parallel to Robb's will). Most (if not all) foreshadowing falls into place. Aegon VI is king, Jon is the (bastard) prince. An example would be Sansa's "Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. (...) "He is the dragon's heir." which fits with Jon as Aegon's heir.

Combined, this interpreation suggests that the popular theory is actually backwards: Aegon VI is the real thing while Jon Snow is the Blackfyre (bastard Targaryen). This is in accordance to the way the text is presented.

House of Undying

"THe dragon has three heads" is referenced for the first time to Danerys Targaryen in a prophetic inducing Shade of the Evening tripping out at the House of Undying.

The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.

I'll say that whatever the House of Undying shows, may not be reality. Rhaegar wanting to fulfill some prophecy with three kids is not referenced anywhere else, except this moment which is the equivalent of a very bad drug trip. It's worth mentioning though, Ratgar saw a comet in the sky and thought he should impregnate his wife, against medical advice because she who was recovering from giving birth his first child. It could be, but it could not be.

Regardless, what's important to note is what's being prophetized. Much like GRRM's convention remark, Rhaegar identifies the three heads as people. So far so good. However, he also gives us an order: omitted Rhaenys as she was born already, Aegon in mother's lap, Danerys when Rhaegar looks up to "see" her at the door, then finally Jon when he says "there must be one more". On one hand, Rhaenys was murdered and Danerys is in this as well, so the conclusion is that the former "replaced" the latter in the prophecy. On the other hand, if this had been a real memory, than Rhaegar would have two legitimate kids at the time (Rhaenys and Aegon) such saying "there must be one more" suggests a third child (Jon), which goes well with GRRM saying "the third may not be a Targaryen". So in order, we have Aegon, Danerys, Jon.

Danerys later reflects upon what this prophecy means and comes the conclusion that these heads are supposed to be people. This is because the Targaryen coat-of-arms is a dragon with three heads, each head representing three Targaryens.

"The dragon has three heads," she sighed. "Do you know what that means, Jorah?"

"Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black."

"I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons."

"The three heads were Aegon and his sisters."

(...)

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall."

"I remember," Dany said sadly. "They murdered Rhaegar's daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon's sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?"

(...)

"Your Grace," he conceded, "the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here's your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen—three dragons, and three riders."

(...)

When Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. "If you were grown," she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, "I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag." But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one.

(...)

"No dragon has ever had three heads except on shields and banners," Armen the Acolyte said firmly. "That was a heraldic charge, no more. Furthermore, the Targaryens are all dead."

"Not all," said Alleras. "The Beggar King had a sister."

(...)

"The dragon must have three heads," he wailed, "but I am too old and frail to be one of them. I should be with her, showing her the way, but my body has betrayed me."

The prophecies in ASOIAF are always misunderstood. Danerys is no exception, as she's wrongly identifing people and their motives. One thing is for sure in all these mentions though, the "dragon heads" are meant to be people and one of them is Danerys.

Danerys thinks these three dragons are supposed to mimic the original trio, with herself as Aegon and two men she'll take as lovers as the two sister wives. This is where the misunderstanding is, because it's obvious from the framework that is backwards.

These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped . . . and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei . . . as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

Danerys is a dumb bitch and the text shows us exactly how. The idea of Danerys being betrayed comes together with the other two heads. They're not lovers, they're betrayers. It occurs again in ADWD as she's in the Dothraki Sea, contemplentanting if the "king" betrayed her and a wolf answers in the distance.

The framework fits this foiled scenario. The original trio was a man married to both his sisters, but only he became king (later, only the man could rule according to Targaryen law). In contrast, Danerys is a woman (foil) and both her brothers are dead (foil), whom are replaced with nephews that have a bigger claim than her (foil) and whom will not be involved / married with her (foil).

It's also thematically relevant and poignant for the trios to be foiled. The Targaryen king dynasty started with an alliance between three dragons, it's fitting that it ends with a war between three dragons. It's what they've been threatening all along with the Dance of the Dragons after all.

[starfoxrry]

Royalty/Regency AU Fic Rec

or fics where Harry and Louis are both royalty/noblemen 

1. don't want no other shade of blue (43k) by padfootyoudog

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

—

prompt 339: it was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

2. Violent Delights (76k) by ohpleaselarry

Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.

(ABO princes au)

3. Mead of Poetry (65k) by MyEnglishRose

Under the pressure of continuing the Styles viscountcy line now that he is getting older, Harry sets himself three rules to finally settle down and marry: firstly, the omega needs to be reasonably attractive, secondly, they must be of great mind, thirdly, they cannot be anyone he would ever fall in love with.

Enters Charlotte Tomlinson, the diamond of the first water of the upcoming season and seemingly the perfect candidate to the viscount’s plan, but her omega brother, Louis, is in Harry’s way. Louis only seeks to protect his sister and he sure is not going to let a rake play with her heart.

Or. A Regency ABO AU very loosely inspired by the second book of the Bridgerton series, "The Viscount Who Loved Me".

4. Lightning Strikes The Heart (130k) by fournipplesau, Bekita

Shrewsbury, 1814

Dearest reader, I present to you your new bulletin of news regarding Shrewsbury citizen's activities. My name is Lady Merriweather and I will be in charge of the updates. I will make sure you are to know all the important details of what is to happen this season. You must know that you do not know who I am and you never shall. But be forewarned; I certainly do know you. I advise you to be on your best behaviour, lest you want the whole town to be privy of your business.

As expected every year, the Lockhart House hosts the season’s opening ball, and its invitation is the motive of the hustle in town, and every family hopes for the invitation. This year is no different, but this year everyone's attention is focused on the new Duke of Montgomery, His Grace Harry Edward Styles, and whether he will attend it.

All the omegas will be in their best manner, behaviour and clothes as it is expected. And here, dear reader is where we will find out which young omega might succeed at securing a match, hoping to not become a spinster.

Place your bets.

5. If I Loved You Less (36k) by allwaswell16

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas...until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

6. Lean On My Shoulder (I See Myself With You) (19k) by Jennifer_Kaid

Speaking of the views, there was someone on his balcony. The sun was still setting, making this person look even more ethereal. They seemed to be at content at being alone. Harry watched as they watered the plants, they certainly didn't look like they were amongst the help.

Curiosity got the best of him and he decided to invade this stranger's quiet time; the Prince could be selfish sometimes.

-

"When you love something, you help them grow.”

7.  Falling Down For You (14k) by theweightofmywords

If there was an alpha that Louis wanted to call his, it would be Harry. But what happens when an arranged marriage, a hungry press, and doubts get in the way?

8. Compete Against the Stars (30k) by amomentoflove

“We should probably keep our distance,” Harry says, now backing up until he’s leaning against the wall opposite of Louis. It already feels too far away. “I don’t know if I can handle not being able to touch you in some small way.”

Louis nods and looks down. “The solstice will be here soon,” he murmurs.

“And with it, our mates,” Harry finishes, his voice cracking at the last word.

An ABO au where Louis finds out he's claimed to another Alpha. Angst ensues.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Wrong Move

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Word Count: 1500

Warnings: Kidnapping, slight mentions of drug and physicall abuse (If you squint, but lets just be cautious, shall we?)

Author’s Note: I am once again killing two birds with one stone. This was submitted by the lovely @emmice9 for my 1500 follower challenge. And I’ll be using this for @hellotvshowtrash ​‘s #february2021promptchallenge. I would also like to say that this is A BRIEF LOOK into a new series that will be coming later on in this year. All because my brain cant keep ideas to one shots. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. 

The world has changed drastically over the centuries. The world people used to know had changed when the creatures that roamed the darkness had come out of hiding. Vampires became the superior species, creating a completely different hierarchy within the world. Those that came from money were free from the torment and slavery of the Vampires. Werewolves and witches were far and few between. And when they emerged they were a force to be reckoned with that the vampires let them be. So long as they weren't attacked, they never retaliated and stuck to their own.

For the L/N family, they had come from money. Their wealth bought their freedom from the vampires. For the two children in the family they'd never have to fear being human. For the eldest, Alexander, he wished to continue their bloodline to ensure there was a truce between the vampires and the humans of their family. But for the youngest, Y/N, she wished to become a vampire and when she was younger, her parents made a deal with the Mikaelsons to ensure her status would carry over as a Vampire.

While most girls in her age dreamed of becoming something of themselves in the world that was created around them, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be a vampire. One that wanted to change things for the better. And the way the L/Ns had it, their children were going to mend bridges.

Unfortunately, the matriarchs of the L/Ns were killed in an accident that left them as orphans. Alexander being the eldest was given the burden of being the head of household and he uncovered his parents' secrets. Before their death, his parents made a deal with another Vampire. And with their death, it broke the deal between them. It left them on the verge of bankruptcy and being tossed in with the other humans.

Y/N stood outside the double wooden doors as she listened to the muffled sounds of her brother arguing with a vampire. Alexander was in there for more than an hour speaking with the vampire that held the deal with their parents. Seeing as it was a matter for the head of house, Y/N couldn’t be in the room. But where she stood she could pick up on her fair share of things.

Most of it had been about money, or the lack thereof. Being in debt to a vampire left any human feeling unease and Alexander was no different. Especially as he looked across the table at Tristan De Martel. If there was one thing they learned, the De Martels were the downgrades of the Mikaelsons. Where the Mikaelsons held their deals in good faith, the De Martels could find a loophole within the contract to work in their favor. And that was what happened with their parents.

Y/N’s heart dropped when she heard her name being brought up in the conversation. While She couldn’t hear what was being said, she knew it had upset her brother. His voice had raised while the vampire’s remained calm. The longer her brother yelled, the more worry filled her. And the words she picked up on hadn’t made anything easier.

When the doors opened, a chill ran through Y/N as she looked over at her brother, attempting to ignore the way Tristan had gazed at her as he walked passed. The look on her brother’s face had told her this wasn’t the end of things. That the conversation he just had wasn’t an easy one and he was left with hardly any choices.

“Were you able to come to an agreement?” She asked as soon as she knew Tristian would be out of earshot, even for a vampire.

Alexander nodded as he ran his hand over his face. “One that I do not fully agree on.”

“Well?” She asked after a moment of her brother not saying anything. While she may have been able to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation, it wasn’t everything she needed to know. And when her brother hesitated once more fear filled her.

“What did you promise the De Martels?” She asked as she took a step towards him. He didn’t know how to answer her. Not when it had to do with her. But the guilt she saw written on his face had told her everything, causing her to shake her head. “No.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said as he kept his eyes on hers, even as they filled with tears.

Y/N took a step back in disbelief. “No.” She repeated. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had no other choice.” He said as he watched the tears form in her eyes.

“I have a deal with the Mikaelsons, you can’t just go and make a deal with the De Martels to hand me over.”

“If it means keeping our family name in good standing, I’ll do what is needed.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. But they had been true. Tristan had offered a deal and Alexander jumped on it. Tristan would clear the family’s debt and void out his parents contract if he got Y/N in return.

“You’ve sentenced me to die.” Anger began building within her. “Tristian’s humans never last.”

“You were going to die anyway.” He responded quickly, earning a hard slap across his face.

“On my terms!” She yelled. “Not by the hands of a vampire that keeps his own psychotic sister locked up! When Elijah finds out-”

“Your ties with Elijah no longer matter. Yes he gave our parents his word that you would join them. Your infatuation with each other sealing that deal. But this decision can’t be easily taken back and you know that.”

While they both know going against either families was a risk. But with the De Martels, there was a deadline that was fast approaching them. Y/N ran her hand along her face and shook her head as she turned away from her brother. She couldn’t handle this.

“Elijah might know how to get-” Before Y/N could even finish her sentence, her brother knocked her over the head with the nearest object he could reach, leaving her unconscious.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." He said as he crouched down beside her. "But I refuse to become one of them."

_____

The De Martels knew what Y/N would ment to the Mikaelsons. She was to be their saving grace. A chance to mend the world with siblings as a Vampire and her Human brother. She was also Elijah’s soon to be wife. Tristan knew he was playing a dangerous game. And because he knew her worth, he kept her hidden, away from any prying eyes that could possibly leak where she was.

Much like the other humans in De Martel's care, she had been drugged, used and abused by those within Tristan's circle. As she laid in the dark damp cell, all she wanted was to die. Her colorful dreams of the future faded to black and white wishes of death and peace as time passed.

Anger had filled Elijah the moment he stopped by to see Y/N and Alexander told him what happened. While furious with her brother he knew he'd always keep his word to Y/N to not ever harm him. It took him over a month to find Y/N's whereabouts. The moment he had her location there was no stopping him.

Elijah stormed through the De Martel home. Anyone that dared to stand against him had their hearts ripped out in a split of a second. Bodies and hearts had been left in his wake as he made his way through. Each one brought him closer to finding Y/N.

When the door keeping her in was forced open, Y/N whimpered in fear at the sound, unable to see who walked in from her position. She hadn't even begun to heal from the last time that door opened. But even as the footsteps neared, she couldn't get herself to move, her body too weak to try. Panic filled her as the footsteps ceased right next to her.

"Shh, shh," Elijah began, trying to keep Y/N calm. "It's me."

As he did, it wasn't hard to see how beaten and bruised she had been. Bite marks covered her body in several places. He had never felt so much anger before at seeing her injuries.

"'Lijah." It had been a whisper, but he heard it loud and clear.

"I got you. I promise I'm going to take care of you, okay?" He had every intention of never letting her leave his sight. He even made the promise to himself that he'd kill the De Martels with his own two hands.

But before the comfort and relief of being free set in, Y/N was rudely awakened by the sound of the door opening and shutting by the unwelcome guest.

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[childofchrist1983]

And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprang up with it, and choked it. And other fell on good ground, and sprang up, and bare fruit an hundredfold. And when he had said these things, he cried, He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. And his disciples asked him, saying, What might this parable be? - Luke 8:7-9 KJV

Herod's curiosity wasn't to be satisfied until after Jesus Christ's arrest when Pilate sent Jesus to Herod for punishment. But, wouldn't we be curious about this Jesus ourselves, if we lived at that time?

This is not the same Herod who was king when Jesus was born, but I'm sure he had heard the stories about the astrologers from the East who had claimed to have seen a star that meant that a new king had been born. John the Baptist had been a thorn in his side with his preaching about the coming of the Kingdom and a call for repentance. He was probably upset that so many were following him. And he was so upset by John's condemnation of his marriage that he had him beheaded. Herod knew of the prophesies regarding the tradition that Elijah would return to make way for the Messiah. So, it's not surprising that he was curious. Was Jesus Elijah? Was Jesus the Messiah? Did this mean that he might be overthrown by this stranger? He must have been a little afraid as well as curious. In the Gospel telling regarding Herod's meeting with Jesus, it is said that he and Pilate became friends that very day. Before that, both Herod and Pilate were concerned about their own jobs and their power over Jerusalem. To Pilate and Herod, Jesus was a threat. To the Apostles and the disciples, He was the Messiah. Other religions and people say Jesus was merely a prophet or that He was just a good man or that He never died for us at all. If that's all that Jesus is to you, you're in trouble!

But when we believe and confess that Jesus is the Messiah, the Christ, our LORD and Savior who died for us on the cross and rose again, then we are saved and we have certain responsibilities and a duty to Him following our Christian belief of Him and His Gospel Truth. To the Apostles and the disciples, He was the Messiah. What about us and what we think about Jesus? To us who are true Christians and forever His, He is the Son of God, our LORD and Savior and the one we are called to follow and serve and be saved and spiritually reborn by in order to join Him and our Heavenly Father in the Kingdom of Heaven. He is the one who guides, protects and blesses us everyday. Without Him, we are nothing; But through Him and His Holy Word and Spirit, we can be the person He called us to be.

Jesus is the only way to Heaven (John 3:5, 14:6), the only way to salvation (Acts 4:12, Ephesians 2:8-9) and He is resurrection and the life (John 11:25-26). As true and born-again Christians, we believe in Him and His Holy Word. We know though our mortal bodies should die, He will raise us up and into new and glorious bodies (The Rapture). We who are truly His and alive at His second coming will never die, and our bodies will be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and so shall we ever be with Him in His Kingdom of Heaven forevermore (1 Corinthians 15:51-52, 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17). This is one of many promises given to us by God Himself. Let this promise of future resurrection give us hope and encourage us always.

Thank God for His strength and guidance when we are faced with sin and temptation. Thank Him for His mercy and grace. Through Bible study and prayer, God reveals His wisdom and guides us to see opportunities to grow closer to Him and grow spiritually. He gives us direction to live our lives according to His Holy Word and will. We must make God top priority everyday! May we be motivated to spread God's Holy Word and Gospel Truth to all the Earth, knowing that it is the only hope of all those lost in their sins. Let us not hold out a false hope for men to be saved without the Gospel, but instead, strive to do our part to get the Gospel out to a lost and dying world.

Leaning on Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ through prayer and His Holy Word and Spirit strengthens us and our knowledge and wisdom about God and His Gospel Truth, exposing these imposters. May God help us to seek and lean on Him daily to gain the strength, wisdom and spiritual discernment needed to expose Satan and his imposters who seek to destroy us and God's ultimate Truth. Everyday, we must remember to share Jesus Christ's Gospel Truth with the world and to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and from the eternal damnation of Hell. In all we say and do, may all praise, honor and glory always be given to Him and His Kingdom of Heaven.

With renewed minds, hearts and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[ladykatakuri]

Our Dance

Tech x F Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2175

Lyrics used from the song All about us performed by He is We

Summary:“I believe you might have to come to her aid soon. The senator currently trying to keep her attention on him is well known for his more….illustrious desires when it comes to women.” The concern in her eyes immediately urges him to spring to action and before she can even finish her full sentence he is off to the rescue.

Here it is, the Tech fic i was working on. Somehow i had several songs that inspired story idea`s and ofcourse it is with the guys from the Batch and yes i also have something in mind for Omega. Hope you like it and comments / tips are always more then welcome here <3

It was one of those evenings, once more. A senator had decided that it was time for an early celebration of, well something important on his home world and of course that meant guests, a lot of food and drinks, caterers and guards. Normally not a big problem, any time that you were invited to a party by a good friend you would happily accept and you did, but this evening turned out to be a huge annoyance to you and a strain on your self restraint.

During your time serving food and having nice conversations with people from all layers of society you came to be very fond of the clones you met. The Coruscant Guard became steady customers of the shop where you served caf and breakfast most times and all the others were a steady stream of visitors at 79`s, the bar where you would have evening and night shifts, waiting on tables and just having a good time with your new found friends. But this party? You would be happy to leave and if you could leave after giving some of the politicians there a piece of your mind then all the better!

It began with the senator of Scipio and delegate of the Banking Clan, Rush Clovis, mentioning to another senator he did not see why there should be any consideration for the clones. Their conversation was caught by you as you walked by on your way back to your friend who had invited you in the first place, Padme Amidala, but it was more than enough for you to already hate the man. Unfortunately it was not an uncommon feeling among people with a seat in the senate to think of the clones as nothing more but meat for the grinder. They were created on Kamino to fight in the war effort, and when they died? Well there were more where they came from.

With a slight tremble you move forward, handing out the drink to a friend you found among the guests and had a nice conversation with. In the meantime you knew that several clones were there by special invitation. The senator that was hosting this party wanted to display his power and thought it would be fun to have some of those clones around to have fun with. In this case that fun meant that the guests who wanted to, could either talk to the clones or even dance with them. They were no more than props on display for most of the people there and you hated every second of it. Especially when you realised one of your favorite groups of men were also there. You were about ready to leave the party and grab some sleep when you saw that special group of men, especially one very special, tall, goggled man who had been haunting your daydreams from time to time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Tech heard that they were ordered to attend a party he was seriously confused. “They do realise we are considered to be defective clones? Not many senators or other high placed figures would want us around them on purpose.” Rubbing his head he looks at his sargeant and leader, Hunter.

With a deep sigh, Hunter looked at his brother. “Yes Tech, they know. I believe that is exactly why they want us to attend this thing. I suppose there is some ulterior motive to it, but we have to follow this order in any case. So, suit up and be on your best behavior.” The last sentence has the sarge glance at the two most troublesome of his brothers, Wrecker and Crosshair. They were the least likely to really behave, but that was a concern for later.

Tech felt uncomfortable in his black suit, but orders were orders in this case and at least Senator Amidala had been kind enough to start a conversation with him and Echo. Both were surprised at her kindness and how she was genuinely interested in their feelings about the war. Echo had stopped him from rambling about the war too much by pointing out the one person he knew would draw more attention than anyone else in the room.

Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance

I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down

Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet

Give it a try, it'll be alright

For a moment it seemed as if there was only one person in the entire room, and that person was you. Tech looked in the direction Echo pointed at and there you were, walking around greeting and conversing with some of the guests in the room and looking picture perfect while doing so. A string of hair escaped your ponytail and the annoyed glance aimed at one of the senators only made you seem more beautiful. Looking at the senator that seemed to have annoyed you so much, he immediately understood why you seemed ready to hit the man with your fist. Senator Clovis was known to be ruthless when it came to clones and clone rights. When asked, he would always say the exact same thing, “Clones are mere tools in the warmachine. A cog perhaps. They are easily replaced and so, we have no need to mourn the loss of any of them. I see no reason why we would even have to spend any credits on the recovery of the wounded.”

A small grin formed on his lips as he watched you stalk away from the man and move to stand somewhere calm and quiet. Senator Amidala, still in conversation with Echo noticed the slight change in attitude as his eyes followed you around the room. “If you pardon my intrusion, Tech is it?” Her hand taps his arm as she turns to speak to him.

Tech looks at the senator as he answers. “It is indeed, senator. How may I help you?”

Amidala looks at the man currently shifting attention between her and the woman he keeps an eye on as she moves around the room. “I believe you might have to come to her aid soon. The senator currently trying to keep her attention on him is well known for his more….illustrious desires when it comes to women.” The concern in her eyes immediately urges him to spring to action and before she can even finish her full sentence he is off to the rescue.

You know that the man currently speaking to you as if you are just another nobody, who is lucky enough to have been invited to work the celebration taking place is also the same man who not only is a senator, but also well known for demanding personal time with all female personnel and even demanded coruscant guards to remove some women he has used when they became too much of a bother to him afterwards. This time he seems to have set his eyes on you and you are just not having it. “Senator, I must return to my friend now. I apologize for cutting this wonderful conversation short, but if I do not at least spend some time with Senator Amidala this evening, I would be a poor and ungrateful friend.” Though you smile it is obvious even to the senator you only mean the polite refusal to continue the conversation, as much as you refused to dance with him.

“I know you're nothing important in the senate, just a person that Amidala befriended from the lower regions of this planet. You will dance with me, because any offer such as this from the likes of me is an honor and then we will continue our conversation in private.” Just when he reaches for your hand to drag you back, your hand is taken by another man.

As fast as he managed to take your hand before the senator, Tech took the drink from your hand and gave it to another waiter nearby. His arm is already snaked around your waist as he turns you around and walks you to the middle of the room. “I believe you agreed to give me the first dance once you finished your round in the room Y/N. I noticed you were on your way back , so I suggest we make the best of it.

Surprise and gratitude quickly appear and leave your eyes as you smile at the man guiding you away. “Thank you Tech. I almost lost track of time.” The blush on your cheeks as you feel him turn you around to face him brightens when you take him in once more. He looks absolutely dashing in his black suit and light blue dress shirt.

The room's hush hush and now's our moment

Take it in, feel it all and hold it

Eyes on you, eyes on me

We're doing this right

The orchestra plays a slow song as Tech gently moves the two of you around the room. Despite his tall figure and the appearance of a soldier most times, he is absolutely graceful as he leads you in your dance. His hand, warm on the small of your back presses you closer to him while he softly squeezes the hand he holds. Leaning in closer to you his lips almost brush your ears as he whispers. “It seems you needed a rescue. Though from the look you gave that senator, it is highly probable I actually rescued him.” His low chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as he straightens out and swirls you around. “I shall thank Senator Amidala for warning me in time.”

Amidala, your friend. A senator who usually makes her way through all the layers of society and who does her best to help all people. She even spoke to you about clone rights and how to see to it that they would be treated more decently, after she found out that you were one of the people who were strong advocates for clone rights. Soon after that, the two of you struck up a friendship based on mutual respect. She invited you to this evening because of your shared passion for the rights of clones and your contact with many of these men. She felt it might make them feel at ease, seeing a friendly face in the crowd.

Grinning you look up into the brown, bespectacled eyes of your hero of the evening. “I will thank her for sending me a hero.”

The music stops and you are ready to step away from Tech so that he can walk back to his brothers. Tech however is not moving an inch and he is not letting go of your hand. Pulling you back in at the same moment another song is started, Tech gently guides you in another dance.

“You know, people will stare at us. They might even start to talk about us.” A gentle blush on your cheeks, you whisper to him.

'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love

Spotlight's shining

It's all about us

It's oh, oh, all

About uh, uh, us

And every heart in the room will melt

This is a feeling you never felt dry

It's oh, oh, all about us

Tech has always been kind to you from the moment you met. His brothers, all with their own sense of humor and fun way of flirting quickly became good friends of yours. Tech as well, though you also developed a crush on him rather fast. His fast knowledge of pretty much everything and witty remarks only served to make you fall harder for the man. And now here you were in his arms, dancing to beautiful music, still a little insecure on whether or not you should let him know how you feel.

Without paying any attention to the room, Tech moves the two of you a bit more to the edges of the room. No longer swirling around with all the other couples on the floor, the two of you softly sway on the sidelines. Still in a warm embrace of his arm around you and his hand softly holding yours, he looks down at you and smiles. “People always find reasons to talk about others. It is in their nature to try and find common ground so as to divert attention from themselves at such events.”

You sigh softly and move the hand that was resting on his shoulder all this time to his face. Carefully brushing his cheek. “You could just tell me to let them watch you know?”

A chuckle escapes him as he leans in to you and his lips brush yours. “It's all about us anyway.

When he moves back, he pulls you in closer against him, your head against his chest, his arms around you as you keep swaying to the music. Nobody else in the room exists at that moment, but the two of you.

“All about us.” you whisper, a promise for the rest of the evening and all the days still to come.

@loth-wolffe @catbustours @reluctant-mandalore @nahoney22 @hellothere-generalangsty @allamarisss

[blinder-secrets]

White Lies, Twice Over - Tommy

#33 - ‘Please come get me.’

tommyxfem!reader, 3.5k words

prompt list

You’ve had your fair share of bad dates. Boring dates, awkward dates, dates with people you felt sorry for. It’s just never been enough to put you off. This was the first time, though, that a date has felt wrong. Dangerous. Your gut had told you the moment you sat down, but you’d ignored it. And when his foot slid up the side of your shin, you’d ignored that too. But the longer you sit with it, the feeling, the more nervous you get.

He’s being nice enough. Asking questions, smiling. He ordered a starter for you, then a main, now wine between to rest your palette. It all worked. It was all delicious. Every action has been smooth, charming. Flattering without being condescending. You want to enjoy it, but there is just something off about it all. Beneath the jokes, and the compliments, there’s something about him that bothers you. An edge to his questions. A game to the touches he’s placed.

Everything he’s done has felt rehearsed, practiced. So far nothing has happened without a motive behind it; he seems to know the cause and effect of every move that would be made, yours included.

He’s looking for a waiter, to pour you another glass, when you decide to do something about it.

‘I should call Ada,’ you say, hoping to sound convincingly innocent. ‘Do you think they have a phone here?'

His hand drops back to his lap, his eyebrows scrunch. ‘Ada? Who’s that?’

‘We live together.’ You try to smile as you answer. ‘She said she’d wait up for me.’

‘And?’

‘And,’ you drawl, buying time, ‘if we’re staying longer, I should tell her not to. She may as well go to bed.’

‘I see.’ He likes your reasoning. His foot finds your calf under the table.

He must have been successful in catching the waiter’s eye, because now there’s a man stood beside you, smiling and unknowingly offering you an escape route.

‘Do you have a telephone?’ you ask, praying that the answer is yes, and that it’s free to use. And that it’s far, far away from the man that you should’ve never said yes to.

‘By the bar, ma’am.’

‘Thank-you.’ You stand, too quick to be graceful, and bring the purse up from your lap. ‘I won’t be long.’

His lip pulls sideways into a smirk. ‘I hope not.’

You turn and walk toward the bar, hoping your gait is easy, relaxed. Hoping your shoulders haven’t pulled up the way they do when you’re anxious. It’s not that he’s done anything wrong, just that he might, and that the more you sit with the thought, the more positive you are about it. There are always feelings you should ignore, but never the ones that bite hard enough to linger. If it was first-date nerves they’d have passed by now.

The phone is free, hanging on the wall by the bar as he said. You don’t want to look back at the table but you do. It’s more natural. A quick smile over your shoulder to satisfy him, convince him you’re keen still, to make him think his games are working. He nods back at you; he’s been watching the whole time.

You pick up the receiver with a sigh and put in the numbers you need, tracing the vines on the wall-trim in front of you while you wait. They curl up and along, over each other and away.

The line connects. Your finger stills on the wall as it rings.

After what feels like an unusually long time, someone picks up, but they say nothing. ‘Hello?’ you chance, ‘Ada?’

‘So, there you are.’

It’s not Ada, but Tommy. The absolute last person you wanted to speak to. He leaves his statement alone to rot in your ear-drum. He knows it’s you that has to explain yourself, you that needs to fill the silence with answers to questions he shouldn’t have to ask.

‘Tommy…’ You start your plea, but the words sink back under your tongue.

You’d told him you were busy tonight, with Ada, that you couldn’t be free to do what he asked. The truth, of course, was that you had nothing planned. Not until your date had offered his company for the evening. Before that, you had just lied. Plain and simple. He’d asked if you were free to help him, and you’d said no. You hadn’t wanted to. You couldn’t be another peace offering to a scorned business partner, you wouldn’t be the distraction. If he wanted a woman he’d have to find another one.

Stupidly, it hadn’t crossed your mind that he might go to Ada’s. That he’d check what you’d said was true, that he’d keep order of the things that weren’t his. It had seemed like an easy lie when you’d told it.

‘I can explain, Tommy,’ you say, ‘but not now. Let me talk to Ada.’

‘Where are you?’ he asks, his voice so bare of emotion it makes you shrink inwards, against the wall you’re facing. ‘I came here to find you.’

‘Out,’ you answer. ‘Busy, like I said.’

‘But not with Ada.’

‘No, not with Ada.’ You’re holding onto the receiver with both hands. You don’t want to look back again. ‘Please pass her the phone,’ you add quietly. ‘It’s important.’

‘What is it, Tom?’ you hear Ada ask, though the question falls flat on him.

He interrupts you both before you can even get the word out. ‘Tell me what is is,’ he says. ‘If something’s happened, I need to know.’

You’re impatient enough to allow him that one. Ada or Tommy, the result is the same. It doesn’t matter who comes, just that they do, and quickly. ‘I’m at Vitelli’s, the one in Camden. I need you to come get me and give me a reason to leave.’

‘Camden?’

‘I know, I’m sorry, I know.’ You lower your voice again, though with the noise of the restaurant it’s hardly likely your date can hear. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’

‘Who is he?’ There’s a pinch in his tone, like he’s finding amusement in your disaster. ‘Must be some man, eh, to have you ringin’ for help.’

‘Does it matter who he is?’ you snap. Tommy doesn’t know him, and he won’t. You won’t let him. ‘I don’t like him,’ you say, adding, ‘I don’t trust him,’ after a pause. It’s that part that makes Tommy stop. When he replies, the humour has gone.  

‘What’s happened?’ his voice is low, serious. ‘Did he touch you?’

The question sinks in your stomach. ‘No.’

‘Will he?’

You hesitate. The blankness of his tone hinders you; whether he’s asking if the man has ulterior motives, or if you were planning to take things further yourself, you can’t tell. He leaves the question open on purpose. ‘I don’t want to be here, Tom,’ you say. ‘Please come get me.’

‘Alright.’

You hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly.

‘I’ll be there soon,’ he continues, his voice steady, calm. ‘If you feel scared, wait in the bathroom. I’ll find you.’

You nod, promising it to yourself. ‘Okay.’

He clears his throat on the other end, the sound acting as static on the line. ‘Now,’ he says, ‘smile. Make him think Ada wished you well.’

‘Okay, I will,’ you answer, louder than before. You smile and the action carries into your voice. ‘Thank-you, I’ll see you later.’

When you hang up, you turn to find your date has left the table and is now a few steps away from you. From the smug-laced smile he’s wearing, your final act was a convincing one. The line had landed as instructed.

‘You’re in the clear then?’ he asks, with his hand falling all too easily onto your side.

‘Yes.’ You force another smile. ‘She said I should take as long as I like.’

‘Well, aren’t you lucky.’

You step away from his hold, putting your hand to his wrist for a moment to soften the blow, to make him think you’re still sweet. ‘I’d like dessert, shall we go back?’

His head shakes once. ‘I’ve already paid the bill.’

‘Oh,’ you swallow the bile in your throat, ‘you have?’

He’s back close again; his hand wants your hip but you twist and force him to settle for your waist instead. ‘Why don’t we have dessert somewhere else?’ he says. ‘Somewhere quieter.’

‘I like it here.’ You won’t leave with him. You’d thought it after the starter, but now you knew it for sure. He’d have to drag you out the restaurant, kicking and screaming, if he wanted you to join him. ‘Can’t we at least look at the menu?’

He laughs in response. It’s a sour noise, one that makes your whole body tense.

‘I know you aren’t thick, but you’re acting like you are.’ He lifts his hand, pushes the shawl from your shoulder to leave your collarbone bare. His gaze falls onto the exposed skin. ’We’ll have something sweet,’ he says. ‘Promise.’

‘At your place,’ you finish, as blankly as you can. It isn’t a question so you don’t pose it as one. Everything in his voice, his posture, the way he’s trying to claim you, tells you that it’s already decided. You’d be going where he wanted you to go, regardless of your feelings toward it.

‘I suppose I should be flattered?’ you ask, faking another smile and ignoring the itch to cover your shoulder again. ‘You must like me a lot.’

‘That’s right.’ He’s said it sincerely but you’d put money on it being false; he’ll take any girl he can home. From the way he’s been watching you all night, you know that liking them isn’t a factor, liking their body is. His routine has worked a thousand times over, you’re sure.

‘Okay, but I need to visit the bathroom first,’ you lie. ‘To freshen up. You can wait outside, if you like.’

‘I’ll wait here,’ he replies, too quickly to be pleasant.

Your smile tightens into a straight line, or a grimace — you turn before he can decide which it is.

Without looking back, you walk towards the bathroom. If he’s watching you go, you don’t want to see it, you’d rather pretend he’s lounging against the wall and thinking about things that’ll never happen. It’s better that he feels like he’s won, that you’ll be out and in his hold again without complaint. It’ll only make things difficult if he suspects the opposite.

Once you’re in the toilets, your shoulders relax. The tension clatters off them and onto the tiles. You pick the cubicle furthest from the door and lock yourself into it; the more layers between you and him, the better. All you can do now is wait, and hope that Tommy finds you like he said he would. It shouldn’t be too hard, if he doesn’t see you in the restaurant, he’ll know to look in here. Your date won’t think anything of it, he doesn’t know Tommy. Or that you know Tommy. It’ll just look like some man, any man, has come looking for his wife. Or his girlfriend. There’s no reason to be nervous about it. For once, Tommy will slip by, unseen, and then the two of you…

You put the toilet seat down and sit on the lid. That part you can’t think about.

The idea of walking back out again, with Tommy in tow, is enough to kick your heart-rate up. He could get in unseen, but getting past your date unnoticed will be impossible. And, knowing Tommy, it wouldn’t be without conflict either. He’s used to that but you aren’t. Aggravating your date could lead to any number of things, scenarios that you’re already beginning to concoct, of course. Even with the tinge of wine in your system, your mind proves to be the biggest enemy. The possibilities it’s coming up with are starting to worry you more than the man waiting outside.

But, you won’t think about that. You won’t. You’ll just sit and wait for Tommy, and what happens after can be dealt with when it has to be dealt with.

Sighing, you sink your face into your hands. The door to the bathroom swings open, but from the giggles, and the chittering of heels on porcelain, you know it’s no-one for you. The girls fill the room comfortably. One takes the cubicle next to yours, the other waits by the sinks. You watch her ankles under the door.

‘I think I’m drunk,’ says the woman to your right.  

Her friend laughs. ‘It’s cause you’re sitting down. It’s always worse on your own.’

You want them to stay. You want them to crack open your door and sit, and talk, and make you forget about men with questionable intentions. If you were anyone but yourself, you’d ask them to. Instead, they talk, and you listen.

‘Come on, Daisy, they’ll get bored without us.’

They leave after that. The door echoes when it closes.

You haven’t got a watch but from the ache of your thighs, punctured by your leaning elbows, you know it’s been long enough to seem strange. If he hadn’t already, your date would soon wonder what you were doing. You watch the lock on your door like it’s going to betray you.

After a long stretch of quiet, you hear footsteps in the corridor. They’re too blunt to be heels so you stand quickly, wishing, wishing and then hoping and then the door opens.

‘[Y/n]?’

You don’t need to hear it again to know who it is. ‘I’m here,’ you say quickly, like he’d leave if you take too long. ‘I’m here, Tommy.’ The lock rattles beneath your fingers, before slipping back to release you.

He’s across the room in two strides, his hands taking your forearms like you might fall. ‘You alright?’

His lips part as he waits for an answer, his breath quiet but faster than resting. He’s been worrying, you realise, like you had. Imagining things that might have happened.

‘I’m fine,’ you say.

He lowers his head to keep your gaze. ‘You sure?’

You nod, the gesture small but enough to reassure him.

‘Good.’ He lets your arms go. The motion causes your shawl to slip, but he catches it before it can fall, and pulls it back onto your shoulders. ‘Can you wait here a bit longer?’ he asks.

Your face folds into a frown. ‘Why?’

Tommy sets his jaw. He doesn’t answer, you get there before he can.

‘No,’ you say, in a voice close to disgust, ‘no, don’t go cut him.’

He sighs, and for a second you remember that he’s annoyed at you. Or that he should be. It flashes onto his features, sneaking between one expression and the next, like he’d forgotten to stop it. ‘Did I say anything about cutting?’

As if every cut he’s made has come with a warning. As if it has to be said, to know that it’ll fall.

‘Tommy, I’m serious,’ you start, ‘I don’t want you—‘

‘You think I would?’ Now his voice is the one teetering on disgust. ‘In a restaurant?’

‘I don’t want you talking to him,’ you finish. ‘Please, I just want to leave.’

You watch a breath fall from his chest, and then another. It’s new to him, to enter a situation and then leave it again, without changing a thing. You can see in his eyes that he doesn’t know how. He wants to help, take control. He wants to fix it for you but some problems just aren’t his to solve.

‘Please,’ you say again. ‘I don’t want anything to happen.’

‘You won’t have to see it.’

‘Tommy.’

He nods. It costs him to agree to it. ‘Alright. I won’t.’

The relief covers you, drips from your head to your shoulders, along your arms to your fingertips. He listened, for once he listened. You’d thank him but he’d take it as an insult.

‘You shouldn’t have lied,’ he says. It drones out of him, turns from his lips like an ache. ‘Someone should know where you are.’

‘Ada knew,’ you offer.

‘Yeah. Ada knew,’ he scoffs, ‘Ada knew and she wouldn’t tell me cause she does what she does, and trusts you before her own brother.’

You sigh and close your eyes just long enough to take a breath. ‘I asked her not to, Tommy.’

His hand flies upwards, gesturing to you as he shakes his head. ‘And look where that got you.’

‘Can we save this for later?’ You don’t have it in you to fight him. ‘I made a bad call, alright? I just wanted  something nice. ’

Your tone catches him, pierces his frustration. Pulls him back to you like water to the moon. ‘You’re sure he didn’t touch you?’ he asks. ‘You’d tell me, ey? If he did.’

He’s serious enough that you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You just nod, and wait for him to relax again. Once he has, your eyes flick to the door, your urgency to leave returning as quickly as it had earlier.

‘Is he still outside?’ you ask, ignoring the small spike in your heartbeat.

Tommy shrugs. ‘There’s no-one outside.’

‘Blonde, tall,’ you list, ‘he’s by the phone.’

Something shifts in the look he’s giving you, recognition maybe. His chin juts down once. If Tommy’s seen him, he doesn’t say. If he’s still out there, you don’t know. It might be the only time you’ve appreciated Tommy’s aversion for words; you thought you’d wanted him to tell you where he was, but you realise now that silence is better. If he isn’t spoken into the room, he doesn’t exist. Tommy knows that. All he does, is ask, ‘Have you got a coat?’

You shake your head quickly. 'Leave it, I don’t care.’ The coat is old and menial enough to be sacrificed. It’d be stupid to risk a trip through the tables for that. ‘I’ve got what matters.’

He nods, reaching for you. ‘Come on.’ He guides you to walk in front of him, his hand gracing the lowest point of your back. ‘You first, I’m right behind. We’ll go out the back, alright?’

Somehow his calm starts to itch at you. You weren’t nervous until he started talking so simply, so ordered. It didn’t feel dangerous until he set a plan in motion. He’s doing it to reassure you, you know that, but the effort is setting you on edge.

You push open the door, meeting the restaurant noise with reluctance. Tommy extends an arm to hold it open and, conveniently, prevents you from looking left, down the corridor to the bar and the phone and—

‘That way, it’s just ahead,’ he explains. ‘S’alright.’

‘I’m okay, Tommy,’ you say. It isn’t loud, you don’t even convince yourself, but he hears and pretends to believe it all the same.

‘I know,’ he answers. ‘Watch your step here.’

It’s easier to let him walk you through it. To let him help you, even if it makes you worry. You hope that it stills the need, keeps that voice in his head quiet, the one that tells him to take control of things. The one that wants to end the date on your behalf.

You feel his fingers pull away from your back. It’s slow, like he hasn’t realised it’s happening, but enough of a loss to make you hesitate. When you turn to search for him, he’s already in the process of turning back to you.

‘I’m here,’ he says, before you can ask. ‘Just checking, that’s all.’

Over his shoulder you think you see the familiar curve of a flat-cap. The peaked-tell of his foot soldiers.

‘Don’t,’ his voice is hush, his face softened in a plea. ‘You don’t want the answer.’

‘But you said—’

He sighs, putting his hand to your back again, though this time his palm’s flat against your spine. ‘Let’s just go, ey? They’re bringing the car round for us.’

You nod. You don’t know why, but you do. If he’s done what you think he has, then he lied to you, he stood and told you he wouldn’t get involved, knowing he was going to anyway. It wasn’t him, but the order was. That should bother you. Instead, when he pushes you toward the exit, you let him. And when he says, ‘We both lied, [y/n],’ you sigh, and tell him, ‘I know. Take me home, Tom.’

The car’s waiting outside, like he said it would be. His hand doesn’t come away from you until you’re in the passenger seat with your bag on your lap.

‘Tommy,’ you say, catching him before he can shut the door. He looks at you, face tilted up slightly. It’s dark; you search for his expression in-between the shadows. ‘Would you always come?’ you ask. ‘If I needed you?’

He holds your gaze for a moment, and then nods — but it’s so slight you might’ve imagined it. His hand slips from the edge of the door to squeeze your knee. You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t, he just pulls away again and shuts you in.

Perhaps he can’t promise it. Perhaps he’s spent enough time reassuring you, and making sure you’re alright, that he’s hit his limit. If he can’t lie to you twice, he won’t say anything at all.

[katavicbun]

As promised (actually I don’t think I promised it but whatev) here is the girl talk snippet from “It’s Not Over. We’re Not Done.” chapter 15. If you haven’t read it ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798473/chapters/70625382 plu plug plug) then you’ll be confused, but like... if you want contextless post-DR3 “Nagito has friends” fluff, who am I to stop you?

Back in the Jabberwock killing game, Nagito almost enjoyed the motives that they were given. As soon as the 77th class had been thrown into the thick of it, Nagito had been beside himself with anticipation at seeing brilliant Ultimate hope persevere against the depths of tragedy. But he didn’t think he’d be happy about a new killing motive again. 

Granted, the reason was much less nefarious this time around. 

The First Blood Perk: there would be no trial or punishment for the first blackened. They would be free; or whatever that meant in the context of the simulation.

Nagito was looking forward to telling Hajime the relatively good news, but once his game-watching shift was over, it looked like Kazuichi had beaten him to it. 

From what Nagito could hear at a distance, it sounded like Kazuichi was putting a bit too much emphasis on how “Kokichi is being an absolute dick to Kiibo”, but the tension in Hajime’s expression lessened with the actually-important news. 

Even when Kazuichi left, Nagito stayed where he was, indecisively shifting from foot to foot. Hajime hadn’t reacted well at all when the two’s relationship had been outed the day prior. He was slowly warming up to showing casual affection when they were alone, but when others could see them…

Hajime finally noticed Nagito fidgeting on the other side of the hall, his face softening further, a small but genuine smile gracing his face. The sight went straight to Nagito’s heart, speeding it up to double-time.

He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten this lucky. 

But before either could call out a greeting, two hands slapped over Nagito’s eyes as someone leaped onto his back. 

“Ah?” Nagito said in subdued alarm. 

“Nagichan spotted! Deploy, deploy!” Presumably Ibuki screeched in his ear, as he bent under her weight. 

“Oh, wonderful! I was worried we would not be able to meet today,” Sonia chirped, somewhere to Nagito’s left. When Ibuki slid off and he regained his sight, Nagito saw the two, plus Komaru, beaming at him expectantly. 

“Do you… need something…?” Nagito blanked. 

“Uh, yeah!” Komaru exclaimed, as if he were missing something very, very obvious. “We haven’t talked about-“

She cut herself off when she spotted Hajime in earshot, looking as baffled as Nagito felt. 

“Ha! Ha! Hajiman!” Ibuki hooted, “Nagi is needed in another castle!”

She and Komaru grabbed both of Nagito’s arms and tugged him back in the direction he’d come from. 

Murder, maybe? No, probably not. 

Sonia smiled brightly and gave a brisk wave to Hajime. “Do not worry! We shall return him to you soon!”

Komaru and Ibuki giggled madly at her word choice as they dragged Nagito away. He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure Hajime’s face began turning a concerning shade of white. 

Komaru threw the door open when they reached her and Toko’s room. The three girls filed in without hesitation, but Nagito stopped at the doorway. Wasn’t it inappropriate for a man to enter a girl’s room? It wasn’t like he had ever done that before. Nor had he ever wanted to. However, the protest never had the chance to leave his mouth before he was pulled in, too, the door slamming behind him. 

It came as no surprise that Toko was already inside, curled up under the covers. She seldom moved ever since they were locked inside the hotel, still wracked with guilt and self-horror from what she had done to save Komaru from Tsumugi’s crowd. From who she had let Genocide Jack kill. 

“Hello, Toko,” Nagito said quietly. “Is Nami bothering you?”

Toko made a small noise of negation. 

The only parts of her that Nagito could see was the tangled purple mess of hair sprawled across the pillow, and her hand, absently petting his dog lying beside her. Evidently, at some point during the past two hours or so, Nami had slipped inside, like the spoiled pet she was. 

“Tell us everything!” Komaru urged excitedly, jumping onto the mattress to sit with her girlfriend. Sonia knelt delicately on the floor on Toko’s other side, and Ibuki flopped down next, yanking a very confused Nagito with her.

“Everything...? Komaru, we were on the same shift,” Nagito reminded her.

“Huh? No, not about the…” Komaru trailed off. It seemed like their merry group of twenty-three was split down the middle when it came to how to deal with their situation. Hajime couldn’t stop talking about it, but Komaru was trying very hard to talk about literally anything else.

Ibuki interrupted. “So are you and Hajiman, like, ooey-gooey lovey-dovey, or are you…” She made a variety of random sound effects that Nagito was afraid to interpret.

Sonia and Komaru were leaning forward with sparkling eyes and wide grins.

Ah.

“I… um,” Nagito stuttered, completely unsure of how to answer. The room suddenly felt very warm. And small. “Not… Not the second one. I think.”

“Ooey-gooey boyfriends!” Ibuki squished his cheeks as Komaru and Sonia shot him with rapid-fire questions.

“When!?”

“Where?”

“Who confessed!?”

“Oh! Have you kissed?”

Nagito managed to pry Ibuki away from his face. She bounced away, unbothered. “A week ago, in the hotel hallway, it… depends, and…” Nagito stopped. What was he even allowed to disclose? So much of this was uncharted territory; he still wasn’t used to having friends in the first place. He still wasn’t used to even calling them friends, despite them insisting it was so.

“He’s blushing! They totally have!” Komaru accused proudly.

“My goodness, the both of you must be so sweet!” Sonia clasped her hands together under her chin. “What did you talk about?”

Nagito had replayed the moment an inappropriate amount of times in his own head; maybe it would be nice to talk about it out loud. And they were asking. “Hmm… Hajime said he loved me, and let me kiss him.”

The three girls had frozen smiles on their faces, like they were expecting more.

Ibuki blinked. “Ah… aww?” 

“I’m sorry. Was that too much?” Nagito frowned. He was trying to get better at determining when he had been talking for too long.

“D-details…” Toko mumbled. So she was listening. 

“It… was nice…?” Nagito ventured.

“What did you talk about?” Komaru prompted. Sonia and Ibuki nodded.

Oh. Just a little more, then. “I told him that I fell in love with the Hajime inside Izuru and the Izuru inside Hajime. Then he requested that I stop saying things like that if I continued rejecting his advances. I reminded him that it was for his own wellbeing, and he told me that for whatever reason, he believed that I wasn’t an utter detriment to his quality of life. He even said he was sad when I died!” Nagito closed his eyes dreamily at the memory. “He said many kind things, and allowed me to kiss him. He smiled!”

The girls looked considerably less excited.

“I… I am… more confused, somehow.” Sonia cocked her head, her eyebrows upturned.

“Wait, hold on, did Hajime say he loved you before?” Komaru asked. “When you were in Towa with us, you said it was one-sided.”

“L-lying…” Toko muttered.

“No, not on purpose!” Nagito quickly clarified. He tried not to lie when he could. “Hajime also said it on the boat ride back to Jabberwock, after we escaped Aozora.” 

“Well well well!?” Ibuki shook her fists, pumped up again at the prospect of more gossip.

That memory wasn’t quite as pleasant.

“When Hajime was fixing my prosthetic, he wanted to know why I sacrificed myself for him, and allowed myself to be captured in his place. Of course, I reminded him that I loved him,” Nagito recounted. It seemed like an obvious question at the time. Now that he had hindsight, though, he wondered if it was simply a way to steer the conversation. “He said he felt the same. He tried to kiss me, but…” Nagito winced.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t let you. Because I was right, wasn’t I?”

“You think I’m doing this because of Izuru!?”

Nagito shook his head. “...Well. Like I said. It was… for his own good.”

Sonia gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, Nagito, I… I am so sorry!”

“You’re… sorry?” Nagito repeated. Not quite the reaction he was expecting.

“I told you that Hajime was fixing your arm because I thought you wanted to talk,” Sonia explained mournfully. “I knew how you felt, and I could tell Hajime had feelings for you as well. You both acted so odd afterwards. I should have picked it together!”

“‘Put’,” Toko corrected.

Calling his and Hajime’s actions “odd” was a bit of an understatement. Hajime tried to explain himself, and reconnect, and care for Nagito. But Nagito pushed him away. He was cruel.

“Um, question?” Komaru spoke up hesitantly. “You keep saying that avoiding him was for his own good. What do you mean, exactly?”

“Is it Nagichan’s luck?” Ibuki asked.

Nagito shook his head. If it were anyone else, or if Hajime was 100% “Hajime”, it would have been. Something terrible would have happened to him, just like his parents. But Hajime’s own Ultimate Luck nullified the negative aspects.

Well. Not Hajime’s luck. It was-

“You are talking about the simulation, then?” Sonia offered after a pause.

No, not really. Nagito wasn’t in the mood to correct her, though. Plus, the Jabberwock killing game was a massive roadblock between the two of them. 

“I never saw the simulation, though. What happened?” Komaru asked. 

Sonia and Ibuki avoided Nagito’s eyes.

The Jabberwock killing was also the massive elephant in the room.

They all waited for Nagito to explain. He didn’t. He figured the extent of his actions would best be described by the ones he hurt.

“Ah. Well,” Sonia said after his silence became apparent. “Nagito, um… he was a little…”

“Wacko?” Ibuki supplied.

Sonia looked at her sharply. Nagito nodded in encouragement.

“Nagichan tried to hurt Imposter. And everyone. And Hajiman... is also part of ‘everyone’?” Ibuki continued with uncharacteristic discomfort. Her details were very lacking. Nagito thought it would be best to fill in a bit.

“Not out of self-preservation, either. I simply thought that by introducing despair, it would persuade our classmates to fight for their own brilliant hopes. When I failed, I tried to convince the others to do the same,” Nagito explained. The words were familiar, but even he noticed that his tone lacked the enthusiasm he once spoke with. It felt less like the ramblings of a devotee, and more like an objective, emotionless retelling. “I found out our past identities as the Remnants of Despair, and used my own life to try and take theirs. After all, it was the only use I could think of for myself.”

By the deafening silence following, Nagito came to the conclusion that this was not the planned topic of discussion.

This was all news to Komaru. Still, she didn’t look surprised. It probably sounded very consistent with her and Toko’s experience with him.

“But we have forgiven you!” Sonia insisted, covering his hand with hers. “You have proven that you are a good man, many times now. And… we have all done… terrible, terrible things.” Her voice dipped down at the end of her sentence. As pure-hearted as she was now, Sonia, too, was a Remnant of Despair.

“Hajiman totally thinks so, too!” Ibuki piped up, the positive momentum picking up again. “He’s gone gaga!”

“First impressions aren’t everything, either!” Komaru added. “I mean, look at me and Toko. The first time we met, we were totally different to each other than we are now.”

“It wasn’t the first time we met,” Nagito blurted out.

Oops.

“You… knew each other when you were students?” Sonia deduced. “I did not know that.”

“Oh no, Nagichan didn’t like Reserve Courses…” Ibuki recalled. There went the positive mood again. However…

“I met him when he was no longer a student,” Nagito corrected, his tone flattening out. He met him when he was no longer Hajime.

“I see. Hajime feels guilty because Izuru hurt you?” Sonia asked quietly. 

Yes, but not the way she meant it. 

Nagito wasn’t planning on explaining much further, but Toko spoke again, her voice muffled under the blankets.

“W-where did you g-go when you l-left Towa? Th-the f-first time I-I mean.”

Nagito’s head shot up.

“Wh-what Tsumugi said…” Toko murmured.

“Nagito Komaeda, Ultimate Lucky Student number two, psychopath hope-bitch, Izuru’s personal puppy dog!”

A sharp inhale from Sonia, a gawk from Ibuki, a sympathetic sound from Komaru.

The questions popping around in their minds were practically audible, but they knew enough not to voice them. It wasn’t like they didn’t understand what Toko was implying, either. 

Nagito felt that familiar, peaceful feeling of resignation fill his body, pasting a blank, cheerful smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you planned on talking about today. Though, if it’s any consolation, I’ve found this conversation enlightening. It’s good to remember your roots, isn’t it?” Nagito mused. “‘Hajime and Nagito’... it’s pretty nonsensical and twisted, hmm? His claim to care for me is… impossible. And so is yours-”

Nagito was cut off when Sonia tackled him.

“Do not dare finish that thought!” She cried, squeezing him much tighter than he figured she would be able to. “I do not claim to know how Hajime feels, but I know how I do!”

“Sonia…?” Nagito blinked, trying and failing to untangle himself. 

“You are sweet and kind. You saved my life, even after how we have treated you!” She insisted, cheek squished against his shoulder. 

Ibuki leaped at Nagito from his other side, nearly knocking him and Sonia to the ground. “Ibuki’s crazy, too, it’s a-okay! And she was wrong, Nagichan would never hurt his neighbors’ pets. Nami-Mami is so happy!”

The dog’s tail thumped on the bed at the sound of her name.

“Plus, Nagi’s got the voice of a princess, and he lets me play with his floof!” To illustrate, Ibuki plunged one of her hands into his hair and ruffled madly. Nagito really didn’t like it when (most) people touched his hair, but he was too surprised at the moment to protest.

Two more arms wrapped around his shoulders as Komaru laid on her stomach to reach them from the bed. “I know I haven’t really known you for too long, but I wanna get to know you more. We didn’t get off on a good foot, but you’re so different now!”

A hand landed on his head.

“I-I j-just do wh-what Komaru does… sh-she makes friends w-with w-weird people, b-but…” Toko muttered.

Nagito felt tears prick at his eyes, but he was too cocooned with affection to be able to wipe his face. “Ah… that’s… thank you,” he murmured. 

He jumped when he felt a light slap on his scalp.

“Also, come on! Hajime is totally head over heels!” Komaru scolded playfully. “When you talked to him on the computer back in Towa, he was so happy you were okay, I thought he was gonna, like, explode!”

“I-it was gross,” Toko agreed.

“And Hajiman tried so hard to rescue you!” Ibuki squealed. Nagito flinched at her proximity to his ear. “Ibuki heard he carried Nagichan all the way back to the bus. Like a knight and a princess!”

Nagito wasn’t sure he liked Ibuki’s insistence of him being a princess, but she meant well.

“And I have never seen Hajime as happy as he was when you were together.” Sonia said, pulling back to put a hand on Nagito’s cheek. “We are not defined by our actions in the past. Who you are now is most important, and the person that you are now is the one we all love.”

Being loved: it was an experience that Nagito never really had. Of course he wouldn’t recognize it.

“After everything… I think you should allow yourself to believe what you are told.” Sonia smiled gently. “Don’t you?”

Change didn’t come easy. It didn’t come quick. It came in increments, in short bursts, in relapses and two steps back, and in growth. 

One gesture couldn’t change everything. But it could help the process.

“I… I love you all, too,” Nagito said thickly.

********************

Nagito knew he’d made Hajime lose his cool quite a bit back in the day. But not like this. Never like this.

The hole Hajime had punched through the wall watched them like a single black eye, the resulting drops of blood on the carpet almost visible, even in the dark. Hajime’s eyes were puffy, and the bandage on his hand was bulky and rough.

When Hajime had gotten out of the shower, Nagito was laying on the bed and feigning sleep. He wasn’t sure what he could even say to Hajime, and decided that acting was the least offensive thing to do. He kept his eyes shut, even when he felt Hajime’s bore into him. Even when Hajime laid down and clung onto him for dear life. Even when Hajime hooked his legs like a vice around one of Nagito’s, and gripped his shirt enough to make it ride up, and buried his face so far into the crook of Nagito’s neck that he worried his breathing was compromised. 

Maybe it was to prevent Nagito from leaving and trying to sacrifice himself. Again.

Or…

“I think you should allow yourself to believe what you are told. Don’t you?”

...Or maybe Hajime just wanted reassurance that Nagito was there. Maybe he just wanted to be with him.

“I love you,” Hajime whispered shakily to the supposedly-sleeping boy, his breath warm on his skin.

Hajime wanted Nagito to be scared about the prospect of his own demise. But how could he be?

Right now, Nagito had everything he wanted. He had… friends. A makeshift family. He had Hajime.

For once, Nagito was happy.