#a thousand lives and one

[a-song-for-ages]

A Thousand Lives and One (B1)

alternately known as ; a thousand eyes and one

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Introduction < B1

Note: the amount of times i've written this and had it NOT saved. this is the last time - the third time. if it does not publish... then I'll cry

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Summary:

War came and war went, leaving behind a burning land and sons and daughters of the dead. Such is the price of war - spilled blood and sacrifice... such is the price of the Crown... the blood that the Iron Throne calls for.

And Saera Velaryon paid for it - as did her mother, as did her brothers, as did every Targaryen who rode their dragons into battle. They paid for it - the war they called for - in fire and blood.

And then Saera Targaryen sat on the Iron Throne, if only for a day, before she called for Fire and Blood once more.

For a Targaryen knows no rest, lest dragonflame claim then.

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The summary sucks because I suck at summaries and also because this is the third time I'm writing it and I have no braincells left to remember what I originally wrote which was a thousand times better than this muck.

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Part 1 | B1

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Warnings: angst (of sorts) ; major character death ; the whole "right person wrong time" vibes and and yeah

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They married on the night of her coronation -

"We best get the formalities out of the way," she told Cregan.

"If it is an order, then -"

"What if it were not?" Saera asked, looking to Cregan with a hard gaze. She was queen now, and the so called crown atop her head - a simple circlet of gold, not her mother's crown, or the Conqueror's, for looking at them only brought a sudden urge to weep and rage all at once - glinted as she stared down the man who seated her on the Iron Throne. 

He was a Stark - made of ice entirely, contrasting greatly to the fire that made her whole - and he was her mother's most loyal supporter... regardless of having never met the woman herself, he met her son, and then her daughter, both of them so different, yet so alike. 

One thing rung clear to him, the Warden of the North, that if Rhaenyra Targaryen had not the oath and fealty of his father, he would have still knelt and called her Queen, swearing his banners and men to her, for the children she raised and sent to him were not only of noble blood, but of noble character, and had only spoke of the Realm and their wish for peace. Not war - not like the Green's, who sought the Iron Throne for decades, it seemed. Not the Green's, who were the first to spill blood, declaring an end to a battle of words, and the beginning to a battle of steel.

Cregan managed a smile at his Queen, whose gaze remained hard - cold, it was, and strange, for Cregan could swear he saw a fire burn in the depths of her blue eyes. Fire that burns is surely no match to fire that freezes. 

"I would find myself hoping for festivities that would last a winter," was his response, and his Queen's lip had wobbled in the slightest at his words.

She would have laughed… had they been betrothed, and had there been no war. But all Saera felt after her ascension, was a heavy cloud of grief that began to weigh her down. But perhaps that was the Crown - or the price of it.

Saera wouldn't have known for very long - because she had soon married Cregan Stark in the godswood she would run around as a child, flowers falling from her hair. 

She was dressed as plain as a maid - her hair brought back in two plaits, the gold of the circlet that dug into her crown was removed, and Saera and Cregan knelt before the Weirwood tree, heads bent, appearing as they were… mere servants of the Crown - of the Realm.

And then it was her wedding night, and Saera and Cregan had only sat in the dimness of what was once the King's room - but was how the Queen's, and her Consort's, and Saera had whispered to Cregan, "Am I dreaming?"

"No more than I am," he whispered back, and he lightly touched her knuckles with the pads of his fingers, and Saera had looked at him, desperate for comfort. 

"Does it get easier? The loss?"

"War leaves a mark on men, and women," and Saera's eyes crinkled, remembering their talk on Valyrian and the fact that it was a gendered language, "one that never leaves. The pain never lessens, neither does the loss. You can only learn to live with it - the dagger set deep in your heart, frozen beyond thawing."

And Saera had gripped Cregan's hand just then, and he continued to talk when he noticed her closed eyes and listening ears, "You learn to live with it. But that does not mean it gets easier, or the pain lessens… you only get used to it, that constant presence."

And Saera had let out a ragged breath, before Cregan wiped away her tears, and she whispered, "I wish to see my brother… and my - my cousin."

And Cregan followed her - accompanied her to the room of her brother, who she only hugged and cried with. The boy refused to let his tears fall, but when Saera wrapped her arms around him, whispering in the tongue only they knew, his eyes began to weep. 

And then she looked to Cregan, and said, "Sweet Jahaera… my memory of Helaena. Will you bring her to me?"

And Cregan had nodded, going off to find the only living child of the late Princess, who Cregan knew, Saera never wished any harm, nor meant it…

And when Jahaera came, Saera had made her brother sit beside her, before she called the girl with open arms, crying, "Sweet cousin," and Saera broke down in tears when her eyes fell upon the emotionless ones of the girl who never made a sound - not even in Saera's arms that enveloped her, holding her, rubbing her back. 

"Are you of the same cloth as your mother?" Saera had asked. "Do you not like the feel of touch? Does it burn you as it did her?"

And Jahaera only said, "Only the touch of my enemies. And those of my father."

And it broke Saera, and it angered Aegon, and Saera had decided just then, as she let out a breath, "It is alright, then, for you to hate a person. But I ask that you have that person be responsible for our shared pain. I ask that you hate the ones who lusted after a throne that was never meant to be theirs - whoever that may be."

And Jahaera had only looked at her cousin - the Sad Queen, and she remained silent. 

When Aegon had fallen asleep, his hands fisted into her nightgown, Saera had asked, "Should you wish to retire to your own room, little Dragon? Or will you remain with me, the last of your House?"

Saera did not blame her when she said, "There is none left of my house." And the girl's lip pursed as she said, "I should like my room, your Grace."

And Saera bit her lip, reaching to touch Jahaera's hair - but refrained from doing it at the last minute, remembering how the girl expressed her dislike for her. 

She would not force the girl to conform to her ideologies. If she believed her father was the rightful king, then let her think so. If she believed her mother to be Maegor come again, then let her believe so. 

Jahaera was a girl - young, like Saera had once been, and she knew, further antagonizing the girl, would only make her seek to follow the footsteps of her mother… and Saera had seen enough death. So she let her go, the daughter of the Usurper King.

The two of them were similar, Saera had thought, walking with her cousin to her room, flanked by guards, after all, it was Jahaera, too, who helplessly watched her brother be killed.

With a heavy, torn heart, Saera bade her cousin goodnight, before she returned to Aegon's room, where Cregan was sat on the chair beside the bed, his head tilted back, eyes closed - but one opened when she opened the door, and he sat up, greeting her with the intensity of his grey eyes.

"Forgive me," she had whispered, "for I have not done my duty as your wife."

"We've enough time for duty," Cregan said. "Now, is time for rest."

And Saera had looked at him, a sad pout on her lips as her eyes filled with tears once more. Would it ever end? The crying? She almost wanted to ask Cregan if he cried for his lost brother still - but she stopped herself, knowing what it felt like to have the strings of her heart be pulled. She would not dare do it to him. Not now. Not ever.

"Then come rest," Saera had said, going onto the bed, her back facing Aegon's sleeping form, "with me, husband."

And Cregan had joined after her, holding onto her, and kissing her head, her crown, and her fingers - especially when they began to tremble and shake and hold onto the soft cotton of his tunic. 

The three had fallen asleep like that - with Saera's back turned to Cregan, and her arms holding tightly onto Aegon, and with Cregan's own arms draped over her and covering her hands that held the boy. 

They slept, but Saera woke in a sweat, and Cregan woke after her, having to hold her tightly as she began to gasp softly, whispering to her that it was done - the war was done - it was over, there would be no more bloodshed, and Saera had forced herself to calm, especially when Cregan said, "Little Egg is here, he is safe. You are safe. I swear it." And Saera had turned to him, before she made to sit on the edge of the bed, breathing. 

"I shall fetch you some water," Cregan said.

"No need, Creg," Saera whispered, but her husband had only said, "Wait here."

She assumed he needed a walk - wondered if his skin crawled as hers did, remembering the faces of the ones they both had lost. 

She felt ill just then, and even though her husband had told her to wait for him, she felt the world spin and the air burn with a haze, spinning around her.

It reminded her of Gaelithox, her beloved dragon, and the memories of that great loss had her heart screaming for release - for reprieve.

Not wanting to awaken her brother, Saera had brushed his hair past his forehead, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. 

He shuffled, and his hand caught hers, and Saera only left when her tears threatened to spill with the cry caught at the back of her throat.

She left the room, and dismissed her guards, saying, "Protect my brother, and tell my husband I shall come soon." 

And Saera had walked aimlessly - she hadnt recognized the Red Keep, and immediately knew she would remove every inch of Hightower from it. Every inch of the Faith. They were the cause for this, she raged, her heart looking for others to blame.

And before she knew it, she was facing the skull of Balerion - Meraxes was on an altar beside him, and she breathed in, before she fell to her knees, crying as broken Valyrian words left her mouth.

When her tears finally died down, as did the sound of her voice, Saera made herself stand.

"Even when I am brought to my knees," she croaked, staring into the empty sockets of the skull of the great Black Dread, fire dancing in her eyes - as if taunting the dragon - the god of death that he was named after, I am alive, and you are not, is that why you continue to take from me? 

"Still, I will rise." A statement? Or a promise? Whatever it may have been - it was between Saera, who had lost so much, and Balerion, the Valyrian god who had taken so much from her… it was between them two, a secret whispered in Valyrian, a promise that would prove to be true… but only when Saera had felt a sharp pain in her chest, and she had breathed in…

And she registered what was happening…

Balerion. Death. Have you come again?

And her ribs burned, and her blood fell, staining the back of her nightgown.

You coward.

But she was weak, and tired, and she had no fight left in her, not as she remembered the feeling of dying beside her dragon, and only awaking with a shout of a word, "Dracarys," did she repeat it - her first word would be the last she uttered… a whisper, a prayer, a promise.

And so did Saera Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, First of Her Name, fall to her knees as her assailant released the blade that was dug into her back - a cowardly act - with a smile on her face as the blood that stained her gown grew.

At last, an end. 

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Man do I hope this is the end of me writing this chapter and editing it a thousand times because I. Am. Tired. Of Tumblr fucking me up.

Anyways hope yall enjoyed thisssss. (It's not the end. Nor the beginning. It's quite literally the middle of a story that's at it end bit also it's beginning - does that make sense? Eh.)

[helpimstuckinafandom]

I'M FUCKING CRYING LMAOOO

[ciderjacks]

An old friend

[monoidea]

[uncanny-tranny]

I recall saying this before, but it bears repeating:

There could be a billion trans people in the world and it still wouldn't be a bad thing because being trans is not a bad thing. Even if the rate of people discovering they are trans is "disproportionate" to trends from decades ago, that is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a natural consequence for there being more trans people being able to stay alive, and, overall, being able to live in a slightly more tolerant world. You'd only see that as a bad thing if you actively didn't want trans people to either live or live a life that facilitates wellness.

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[ohitslen]

Living together.

The snail video if you are interested :)

[izzystizzys]

it’s canon to me that anakin skywalker and marshall commander fox are archnemeses of a shakespearean nature to eachother

why? well, fox’ life is a tragedy of galactic proportions. he’s a slave at best and straight up non-sentient property at worst, caught at the crossroads of being the face of the republic’s most corrupt establishment to his brothers who resent him for being forced to bear an authority he has no actual control over, and being the closest and easiest target for that very authority’s ire. made to enforce the rigged and deeply unjust laws against his own oppressed peoples, and no one understands better than fox how much coruscant truly despises them. the chancellor at the heart of it all, and anakin, the favored pupil - taken in by the flattery and empty promises like all the rest of them, the jedi most intimately connected to the senate who yet cares so little to know the clones who shed their blood in it every day that he never sees beyond his own very nose. no one asks the guard what they think, and fox despises them all for it, but the jedi who play at caring more than anything. it’s an impersonal, distanced dislike for the most part, but with skywalker it burns all the brighter for how often fox sees him walk the halls of the senate and never think to ask.

also fox cut anakin off in traffic once and he never forgave him for it

[popponn]

xavier rarely wakes up before you. most of the time, you will find his eyes still closed with his arms clinging to you or around you one way or another. but, on the days when his blue eyes are the ones that greet you first thing in the morning, you will be greeted with a soft whispered ‘good morning’ spoken in his morning voice. these kinds of mornings will start slowly with a shared smile and quiet conversation about mundane, small things. it could be the cat he saw yesterday or that particularly funny part from his dream. then, it will end with his nose brushing against yours gently. sometimes it will lead to a kiss, sometimes he will simply stay there with your forehead against each other’s. sometimes, it will lead to long hours of cuddling and going back to sleep. it is after all that, he will finally start his day along with yours. though, of course, as an end note, even if he doesn’t wake up first, please do always let him begin his days with you. he will still be drowsy—like always—but in a very embarrassingly obvious manner that his expression can’t hide, he will be happy.

zayne seems to develop a habit of taking care of your clothing at some point. it is subtle enough, but it is undeniably there. he often crouches down to tie your shoes for you—without you asking, despite your protests. if you say he doesn’t have to, he will simply say that it is more effective or faster that way, or that he simply doesn’t see a reason not to. if you feel bad, you could return him by doing a favor anyway, he reasons. afterward, it will continue into him adjusting the scarf around your neck, tidying a crease on your collar, or zipping up your jacket right before the two of you go out. he too doesn’t shy from putting your lipstick or lip balm on for you. at some point, during a break day, you might find him sitting on the sofa, reading and watching tutorials about skincare or makeup. if you approach him, expect him to ask you to watch it along with him, though in through mister doctor fashion it might lead to journal and research about cosmetics that he will read to you.

rafayel loves your attention. and it shows—in a very annoying way that unfortunately has found its way to be adorable to your heart. he unabashedly wears a smug smile and keeps on mentioning how you couldn’t stay away from him whenever he spoons you. if you are the one spooning him, turns out he is not above acting like a spoiled brat who demands affection until he is sated. in a way, it is similar to having a puppy that is a fish and a lover at the same time. but beyond all his louder actions, there will always be a part of him that is softer in the way of a cozy rain and a warm blanket. it’s the part of him who will always listen to whatever you say and the part of him that will, will always have you as his ‘happy ending’ no matter what. the part of him that shows itself in the form of a smile full of yearning even when he cups your face with both of his hands. he has his secrets and his affection for you is not one of them. yet, despite everything, it still feels like he couldn’t quite manage to get all of it out for you. so, at least, when it is time for him to give you a glimpse into how much he holds you dear, do give him your undivided attention.

[dkettchen]

tangerine picnicking

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[a-song-for-ages]

Crying because when Saera meets Cregan Stark again - her family and literally everyone notices her change in character. It is as if she is the girl she was before her frightening dream that changed her - the girl that would laugh and giggle and had flowers falling from her hair... the girl that never screamed so loud but was content by herself in the woods, soft and gentle and quiet

And she disappeared the day she woke screaming,

Crying as she launched herself at Luke,

And then Jace,

And then shouting for her brother "Joffrey" who had yet to be born

And then her mother and her father and strangely Daemon Targaryen

And when she saw Harwin she screamed "kepa" and when she saw Laenor she cried and asked if she were dreaming

And when she saw her mother she held onto her tightly, screaming into her chest, crying, crying, crying - non-stop, until she fell asleep and a fever plagued the Princess.

They all thought she'd die, but Saera didn't. (The red mark on her skin was a reminder that she was touched by Balerion - not the dragon - which was why everyone assumed she would not live past puberty.)

But then she did (live past puberty), and when puberty hit her, she changed once more. She was rougher around the edges - her eyes became darker, sharper, sunken in, as if she walked through a war, and kept on walking, not realizing the peaceful world she was living in...

That was what became of their Sweet Saera

But then

When they see the Princess with Cregan Stark

It is as if they have her back

And it is strange

How this child whose words to the Hightowers and the courtiers are sharp like steel and to the point,

Uses those same words but with a blunted edge and a little warmth to the Northerners who are not hesitant at all when it comes to talking freely and honestly and truthfully to her higness

And everyone ships Cregan and Saera (though the Northerners are confused)

But Saera knows- and she told Cregan that even if they did come to love each other... she could not bare to depart from her family.

(So he's told her then that she's already decided... she will marry and stay in court, then? And Saera tells him, she shall remain unmarried, and Cregan smiles at her, and she at him, and these besties fml I'm crying. Jace is just on the side like - Cregan, I told you I'm giving you my daughter now stay away from my sister. And Jace can't tell Saera a thing because even if he did, his little sister is his little sister - there is no way in hell she would ever listen to him. Except in her first life. She listened to him then. But that was then. This is now. Saera does know far better than he.)

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[hayaku14]

thinking about this kaishin magazine cover like

kaishin dressing up together. kaishin naked together. (they could've dressed up in different rooms tho? IDC THEY DRESSED UP TOGETHER)

kaito in the kid suit but without the hat and monocle like that's really all just kaito there and similarly shinichi putting on the bowtie reminiscent of conan but it's all just shinichi there. then again it could also mean kid and conan will always be part of who they are

KAITO WITH NO GLOVES OH GOD OH FUCK

KAITO LEANING ON SHINICHI??? WHAT THE FUCK

KAITO LEANING ON SHINICHI WITH NO GLOVES????? OH FUCK WHAT THE GOD OH FUCK

that shinichi fit, the toned down blue and red from his originally bright colored suit and bowtie......😳

kaito with his hip jutted out like that??? SIR.

shinichi's background are books and kaito's is what seems to be a jewelry box oooohh the big brainery happening behind them

me seeing their reflection on the mirror thinking about how easy it would be for kaito to just slip his hand around shinichi's waist and tuck his chin on shinichi's shoulder, watch shinichi attempt to fix his bow on the mirror and kaito inevitably fixing it for him, looking up at shinichi with the biggest grin and shinichi pressing his lips against his as a thank you

me seeing the inside of kaito's suit thinking how easy it would be for shinichi to let his hand slip and explore around kaito's body, trying to avoid activating his little gadgets like it's a game, holding kaito's gaze with a smirk on his face, moving forward to carefully remove kaito's suit jacket off, his neck right in front of kaito who licks and leaves a mark on his bare skin just cause he can

also maybe the mirror symbolizes that they're mirror images of each other?????

KAITO AND SHINICHI. IN ONE FRAME. TOGETHER. RAAAAHHHHHH

implied, they've seen each other's face. implied, they're not hostile therefore they must have talked and have come to an understanding. implied, they know each other's identity. implied, inevitably they will be making out after this i don't make the rules they just will.

[petit-etoile]

Congrats on the 200 Followers man! Here's my drabble for ya, go nuts on what you wanna write from this; “Kiss me and/or shut up.”

your  heart understood  mine

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount:  919 content warnings: ne.il new.bon said something about little astarions once & now i have Thoughts other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils, be added to the taglist here

summary: 'When am I happiest?' / 'When I'm looking at you.'

‘So,’ Astarion says casually, staring at his nails. ‘What do you think the answers truly are?’

‘The answers to what?’ you ask.

‘Don’t play coy,’ he says. ‘The little…love test. I was rather pleased you didn’t expose me in front of a stranger, but now I’m curious.’

You remember Zethino now. You take a moment to glance at him, though your hands are still busy sewing away at a tear in your armor. Astarion is watching you while wearing a guarded half-smile, neither interested in his nails nor in your messy stitches. Your cheeks heat up and you look back down at your uneven handiwork. Your throat tightens a little.

When you had asked him if he had wanted to participate with you, you thought Astarion would reject it. It seemed silly, so out of element for the both of you that the thought of him genuinely agreeing never crossed your mind. Yet now he questions you about it, questions you about your answers, and you feel more nervous now than you had when Zethino called you stira. Astarion takes your armor from you and begins patching it himself, fed up with your clumsy stitches.

‘The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous,’ Astarion recites sarcastically. ‘When is he happiest, my love?’

‘I don’t think you’ve ever been happy,’ you say quietly.

He hums. ‘Well, that’s mostly the correct answer,’ he says. ‘But you’re missing something. I know you can guess it if you really put your mind to it.’

‘You’re happiest with me,’ you say bravely.

You look him deep in his eyes, holding your breath. He laughs and nods, chuckling to himself while he tries to salvage a piece of leather. You think he might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell with how pale he is.

‘Many things delight the heart,’ Astarion continues, mimicking her monotonous timbre. ‘Only one makes it sing! Tell me, my sweet, what does he desire more than anything.’

Revenge. You had told the dryad he wanted revenge, but didn’t go into detail, not in front of someone unfamiliar. You watch as he untangles the thread, his hair soft and elegant, his hands assured and practiced. There lives a colony of butterflies in your chest. Your heart is beating so loud you’re certain he can hear it.

‘A life with me,’ you say.

‘You,’ he agrees.

‘A gaggle of little Astarions trailing around,’ you add.

Astarion looks up sharply, his mouth hanging open slightly. You press your lips together immediately and try to think of an apology but there’s something beneath his careful façade. You were right. You realize it now. You press a hand to your chest as if to stop your heart from pounding. Astarion wants a family, and he wants you, and even beneath that desire for revenge and for strength, once he succeeds then all he wants is you. He looks back down at your clothes in his lap and laughs shyly. You think you might faint.

‘The last, um, question,’ you stutter. You realize your palms are sweaty and blush.

‘Fear sits in the soul of all,’ Astarion says finally, voice soft. ‘To tame it, we must name it. What is his deepest fear?’

This time, you feel as though the answer isn’t so easy. Beneath the fear of Cazador and the fear of the mindflayers, there is something else brewing. You’re afraid to even mention it, but he’s curious and genuine. You slide closer to him and pull part of your armor into your lap so that you share the burden. He presses his nose to your temple and you distract yourself by touching the part of your armor he’s managed to save from your haphazard repairing.

‘You’re afraid of never breaking the cycle,’ you say carefully. You bite your bottom lip. ‘You’re worried that after all this rage, there’s no relief.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion says.

There is little to no heat in it. You shake your head.

‘You’re afraid the you before Cazador is no longer there,’ you say. ‘And you’re afraid that because I am human, that there’s a ghost of you that comes after me.’

‘Shut up,’ Astarion insists.

‘Kiss me,’ you whisper. You turn to meet his lips.

Astarion presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You cherish it no matter how fleeting the kiss is. The silence, the quiet sorrow. It’s almost worth it for how he gently presses kisses against your temple and into your hair. He will never confess that what you said is true, and you’re almost thankful.

‘My turn,’ you say, clearing your throat. ‘When am I happiest?’

‘When I’m looking at you,’ Astarion says without hesitation.

‘O  — Oh.’

‘You desire a lifetime with me,’ he says with a practiced blasé shrug. ‘And little Astarions of course.’

You flush. ‘Shut up.’

‘And,’ he adds, ‘you’re deathly afraid of spiders.’

He laughs and kisses you again, and you wish you could bottle up the sound in a music box to play it back when you’re feeling lonely. You know what Zethino meant now when she said your bond beat with pleasure. You blossom beneath his careful musings.

‘See? We’re close as can be,’ Astarion murmurs. He rests his chin on your shoulder and brushes his thumb against your thigh. ‘But darling, if we’re going to have a lifetime together, we really must work on your stitching.’

‘Only if you’ll teach me,’ you say.

‘Oh, I’ll be the best teacher you’ve ever had,’ Astarion agrees.

[ro-bee]

Some doodles I drew last night of the best character ever (I am in pain)

Also jiginkas of the ships because I'm proud of them 🔥❤