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thesightstoshowyou · 5 months

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Sooo my Ghoul idea! So fem reader, the ghoul takes an odd job unlike his regular job with just killing people for money. A employer hires the ghoul and pays him BIG BIG “money” Caps to bring his daughter home safely across the dangerous wasteland. The reader is a vault dweller and so is the father who has outside connections so he knows who to contact and bring his daughter back. She snuck out to see what up top was really like, and to escape an assigned marriage. Reader is not so bright, basically a bimbo 😅, first time for reader, reader actually finds him attractive, cream pie, Dom Ghoul. Hopefully this is something you’d like to write! ❤️

Thank you for this request!! I hope I did it justice 😁🥰

Over Your Head

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x F Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Loss of virginity, degradation, thigh riding, a little of the Ghoul’s self-loathing, painful sex (that becomes not painful), nipple play, dacryphilia, spitting, creampie, copious dirty talk

The Ghoul heaves a world-weary sigh. “Listen, darlin’,” he starts as he grips your ankle to shove your foot away from where it teases his inner thigh. “Your daddy’s payin’ a hefty sum o’ caps to bring ya’ back in one piece. I don’t think he’ll appreciate me deflowerin’ his lil’ princess.” The last word is said with so much contempt even you can’t miss it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whine, bottom lip protruding in a pout.

“Means you’re gettin’ on my last goddamn nerve.” The inhaler hisses when he sucks down a hit. Outside, the wind howls and rattles the foundation of the crumbling office building in which you’d taken shelter. He assumes the dust storm that kicked up and trapped the two of you here, alone, is some kind of divine punishment for his misdeeds. “I know there’s some fuckin’ smooth-skinned brat down in your vault who’s dyin’ to fumble around with ya’. You’re better suited for him.”

The Ghoul watches as your disappointed frown morphs into one of determination. He can almost see the gears working in your head as you try to think up a way to get what you want. You aren’t used to being told “no,” that much is clear.

Never has he regretted taking a job more than he does at this moment.

“I don’t want someone from my vault,” you say as you move onto your hands and knees. Languidly, you crawl through the sand and he can’t help the way his gaze falls on the sway of your hips. He grits his teeth when you slide into his lap, the warmth between your thighs settling right against his clothed cock. “I want you.”

“Did ya’ hit your head on the vault door on your way out, sweetheart?” he questions as your palms come to rest on his shoulders. His own hands, rough from life on the surface and scarred from rads, smooth over your hips and slide down to cup your ass. Irritation shifts into bemused resignation. Admittedly, it’s been a long, long while since he’s been intimate with anyone, and the way you’re writhing in his lap chips away at the last vestiges of his resolve.

“No?” you reply, obviously confused. Pretty…and dumb. Though, he’s still not convinced this isn’t some kind of elaborate prank. Why you’d want him of all people—when you could have anyone you want—is beyond his comprehension.

But, here you are, apparently ready and quite willing. Who is he to snuff out your hopes and dreams, as misguided as they are?

Slowly, the Ghoul inhales through his teeth as one of his hands slides up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb brushes over your nape and he feels a shiver zip down your spine. “I don’t think ya’ know what you’re gettin’ yourself into, sugar.”

Already, your eyes are half lidded and hazy, your plush lips parted to allow for quick breaths. Desperate. Innocent. “Pretty please,” comes your tremulous whisper.

He’s going to make you regret every decision you’ve ever made.

The hand on your neck twists so he can gather up a handful of your hair. He brings your face inches from his own so his lips hover just out of your reach. A grin pulls at his mouth when he feels you test his grip, desperate to close the distance.

He leans in until he’s a hair’s breadth away, until you can feel his exhale ghosting across your panting mouth. “Ain’t no backin’ out a’ this once I tear into ya’.” Hastily, you nod and a breathy whine sneaks past your teeth. Your unbridled enthusiasm is going to be the death of him.

Or you.

The Ghoul’s lips crash into yours in a searing kiss. He swallows your sweet mewl and the sharp gasp that follows when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. The feeling of your hips bucking in his lap and the taste of your blood on his tongue rips a rasping groan from his throat.

“Get up and strip,” he orders. He releases your hair and lands a stinging swat on your ass for emphasis. You yelp but scurry away, apparently determined to prove your obedience. The slide of your zipper fills the small space and the Ghoul’s eyes rake over your body as the vault uniform is peeled away, little by little.

The clink of his belt buckle follows and it’s nearly impossible to contain his snort of laughter when your eyes grow comically wide at the sight of him. He palms his cock and slowly hisses through his teeth when you squirm impatiently on the spot, now as naked as the day you were born. Even from here, he can see the arousal glistening between your thighs.

“Come take a seat, kiddo,” The Ghoul says as he spreads his legs and slaps a thigh. Eagerly, you straddle his quad. He wraps a hand around your throat as the other settles on your waist. Slight pressure urges the roll of your hips and soon you’re grinding your slick into his pants.

“What would your daddy say if he saw ya’ actin’ like such a desperate little slut, huh? For a ghoul, no less.” As he speaks, the hand on your waist slides up to roughly tweak a nipple. You squeal and attempt to twist away, but his grip on your throat prevents too much movement. The Ghoul clicks his tongue, “I thought I said no runnin’.”

“It hurts!” You whimper when he turns the same mean treatment on the other nipple.

“Then why are you soakin’ my pant leg, baby?” The moan you loose when his fingers slip down your belly to prod your clit heats the lust burning in his gut. He snatches one of your hands, wraps it around his length, and uses it to stroke himself. The slide of your soft palm along twisted flesh earns you a strained grunt and the briefest fluttering of eyelids.

He watches you from under the brim of his hat. Your eyes are locked on the way your hand works up and down his shaft, your bottom lip glistening where you’ve wet it with your tongue. You’re damn near drooling at just the sight of his cock. The Ghoul has had about all he can take.

“C’mere,” he growls as he grabs hold of your waist and hauls you flush against him. An anxious squeak leaves you when the head of his cock nudges your slick hole. “Deep breath, sweetheart.”

You only manage half an inhale before the Ghoul digs his nails into your hips to spear you on his girth. Your pained shriek echoes off the walls and you scramble to pull yourself up and off, but his grip keeps you seated and forces inch by punishing inch through spasming, untouched muscles. Too soon, you’re impaled up to the hilt, your eyes wide and brimming with tears, your jaw working open and closed like you can’t find the air to scream.

“Fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, nearly overwhelmed by the death grip your hot, slippery insides have on his length. A steadying inhale allows him to turn his attention to you. “What’s the matter, darlin’? Gettin’ split open by my cock not what you’d hoped it’d be?”

The Ghoul tugs you closer to drag his tongue through the fat drops now rolling down your cheeks. Pinching your face between thumb and forefinger, he forces your mouth open and spits your anguish onto your tongue. This seems to shock you enough to draw a choked, furious sound out of you.

“F-fuck-stop-it-it’s too-so full,” you stammer, your thighs shaking like the shingles on the roof above. The Ghoul chuckles, dark and low, as his teeth find the soft flesh of your throat.

“I told ya’ t’breathe, baby,” he reminds you between teasing nips and licks. Your skin is rich like the food they feed you down in that vault, your scent lacking the taint of fear that comes from living life in the Wasteland. Good enough to eat….

Laboriously, you gasp, each breath minutely relaxing your cunt, just enough for the Ghoul to give a few experimental thrusts. The sound you make is distressed, yes, but now there’s something else there to, something akin to that desperation you showed him earlier.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Learnin’ how t’relax and take it. We’ll make a good lil’ whore outta ya’ yet.” Slowly, he moves your hips back and forth as he speaks. Eventually, you get the message and clutch his shoulders to attempt a few tentative undulations of your own. The Ghoul growls, his nails digging crescents into your skin where he holds you.

Soon, no pain remains in your vocalizations. You whine and moan and keen so sweetly, your cries filling the shelter and mingling with the wet squelching of your cunt. You find your rhythm and bounce, unrestrained, in his lap as your juices soak into his pants.

Pressure builds in his groin. The Ghoul can tell by the way your hips stutter and your sweet hole clenches that you’re about to finish too. Hastily, he pulls you against him, plants his boots in the dirt, and hammers up into you until you’re screaming all over again.

You cum a half a second before he does. You freeze in climax, your back arching, so the Ghoul must dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass to work you up and down his girth. With a growl on his lips and teeth bared, his cock pulses to paint your guts in thick ropes of ecstasy.

Long seconds pass as you both hover together in that liminal space of bliss. “Ohh…oh god…” you sigh finally, slumping, boneless. He mirrors your sentiment with a pleased groan that rumbles in his chest.

A hand in your hair tips your head back so the Ghoul can assess your dazed expression. “Fucked what lil’ sense ya’ had right outta ya’, huh?”

“You don’t have to be mean about—

A yawn overtakes your affronted huff. You move to scoot off his lap. “God, I’m so tired now.”

The Ghoul hums disapprovingly and maintains his hold on your hips. “We ain’t done here, sugar. That dust storm is still howlin’ and you got two holes left for me t’abuse.”

Nervously, you laugh and shake your head. “But, I thought…I just wanted—

“A big, bad man t’pop your cherry so ya’ had somethin’ t’brag about back in your vault. Well, I intend on doin’ just that and there ain’t no sense in doin’ somethin’ halfway. Not my problem ya’ bit off more than ya’ could chew, sweetheart.” A chuckle bubbles up from his throat at your horrified expression.

“On your knees, sugar.”

#thank you for the ask #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul #fallout 2024 #fallout #fallout show #thesightstoshowyou

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bern-the-bridge · 8 months

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Why the TV Show Version of Luke is a Better Person Than the Book Version

(Percy Jackson and the Olympians Spoilers)

While I will not argue about which version of Luke is a better character or better written, I can confidently say that the show version is a better person than the book version, and we see this mostly in the finale.

But before that, let’s go over what the book version of Luke did that the show version didn’t do.

1) Go unnecessarily hard on Percy during training, especially after he found out that he was the son of Poseidon.

2) When asked about who might have stolen the master bolt, imply that Annabeth could have in an attempt to plant seeds of distrust between them.

3) Immediately try to kill Percy after he got back to camp.

The show version of Luke is blatantly more sympathetic to Percy than the book version. He doesn’t antagonize Percy for succeeding on his quest or for gaining his father’s approval. In fact, he actually tries to recruit Percy at first. He doesn’t want to fight him.

However, the extent of the show version of Luke’s compassion can be seen with what he did for Clarisse. Or rather, what he didn’t do.

Percy, Annabeth, and Grover were the ones who came up with the idea that Clarisse stole the master bolt. Luke just went along with it. They even asked Luke to warn Chiron and the rest of the camp about her. It would have been trivially easy. Whether Chiron believed him or not would have been irrelevant. Either way, it would have helped his plan immensely, since he would still be sowing discord into the camp.

But Luke didn’t do that. And by not telling Chiron, they were able to figure his plan out. So why didn’t he do it?

Simple. Because he sympathizes with Clarisse.

I haven’t gotten a good look at how many beads Clarisse has, but it’s clearly around the same number as Luke and Annabeth, so it can be assumed that she’s been at camp for about the same amount of time as them, which is longer than most of the other campers. In fact, it’s not improbable that they were all in the Hermes cabin at one point while they were still unclaimed. And she’s one of the handful of campers confirmed to stay at camp all year round.

And Luke understands Clarisse. He understands her desperate obsession for glory. He understands her longing for her father’s affection. He understands her frustration when she is repeatedly ignored. He understands her contempt when her father finally does pay attention to her but it doesn’t go the way she wants. He understands her resentment towards heroes like Percy who seem to do the impossible without any training, with a seemingly perfect home life, getting both a mommy and daddy who love him.

It wouldn’t have been right to frame Clarisse. Actually, it would have gone against everything Luke was actively fighting for. All of the misdeeds Luke commits, it’s for the sake of his fellow demigods. And no matter what your opinions are about the show, this version of Luke reminds us of that.

#pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #pjo spoilers #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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Amendmends - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[Part II]

[contains vulgar language]

SUMMARY: When two of your thugs get into a fight at the Slat, you have to go apologize in person. The owner seems suspiciously happy to have you indebted to him.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.9k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

“You did what?!”

The two men flinch. Feeling too humiliated to look the incandescent bull in the eye, they resort to twiddling their thumbs and riveting their gazes into the cracked, wooden floor. They’re not greenhorns and neither are they unfamiliar with your character, so it’s unclear why they ever thought this confrontation would go in any way differently. Perhaps some juvenile naivety told them this moment would, simply, never come.

“We got into a fight,” one of them repeats. Fear makes his voice waver, resounding a lot quieter than the first time he announced their misdeed. The humiliation only gnaws further at his heart as the boy involuntarily relives all of the reprimands he had received from his parents.

His partner in crime lets out a defeated sigh. The man nudges his friend and whispers: “Come on, Sorokin, she’ll know anyway.” With a sour expression on his face, he lifts his gaze to look at the woman standing behind the desk. Your nostrils are flared as you breathe hard trying to maintain composure. The unfaltering scowl you wear so well makes him gulp. “We started a fight at the Slat. One of the patrons was cheating, wasn’t even doing it very well, so we thought it was our civic duty to put it to a stop.”

You lean forward ever so slightly, hinging on your arms. Although you’re in all ways smaller than them, it doesn’t affect their fright: wolves, after all, also seem not as big when they're preparing to pounce. Words leave your mouth like venom slowly dripping from a viper’s fangs: “You have no fucking civic duty on the Crows’ turf, you bellend.”

“Boss, we-”

Sorokin immediately stops talking when you raise your hand in a quieting gesture. You close your eyes and clench the raised hand into a fist. Only after a slow, deep breath can you continue:

“Just shut your mouth while you still can move it freely. I don’t care for your excuses and promises to do better because I’m the one who has to go to Kaz Brekker and apologize on your behalf.” You push yourself away from the decorative, engraved desk. Unknowingly, you’re shaking your head, looking away from the two bullyboys for a moment. In a gesture of frustration, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Saints only know what he’ll want for giving up retaliation,” you say under your breath. A moment of tense, reflective silence goes by before your gaze returns to the two men. The scowl immediately reappears. “What’re you standing here for? Fuck off.”

With a flick of your wrist, the crooks bolt out the door, praising the Saints that they get to see another day. Maybe they are the ones scrubbing the floors pro bono for the next two weeks but at least they’re alive. Considering the genius loci of Ketterdam, that is as good as anything.

Jesper and Inej do not pay attention to the constant opening and closing of doors to the Slat - there’s no point. Their curiosity, however, is piqued when the noise of the lively club becomes muffled and cheering turns into low murmurs and grunts. Although positioned in completely different places, they simultaneously look towards the entrance, wondering what menace could strike reluctance into the heartless thugs of the Barell.

As expected as it wasn’t, considering the area, it’s a woman. In an utter lack of taste and respect for social etiquette, you’re dressed in rather expensive men’s clothing. You even have a decorative cane with a panther’s head on top, although the item is strangely short, suggesting that it’s more of a status symbol than a mobility aid. Golden accessories, proof of acquired wealth, glimmer in the low, yellow lights of the club.

“Should we do something?” Inej whispers to Jesper, making him flinch in surprise. Really, how is she doing it time and time again?

“No way, Inej,” he laughs dryly at the notion. “It’s the Golden Panther herself. We’ve no bad blood with her and let’s hope it can stay that way.”

The name isn't in any way the stranger's own incentive - only what the victims saw right before being knocked out cold: golden, heavy rings and a black tattoo of a roaring panther on the back of your hand. Some of the more egotistic goons in Ketterdam try to mimic the artwork with other supposedly dangerous animals but it never has the same ominous feeling.

“Then why is she walking straight towards us?”

His gaze returns to the unexpected guest. Inej is right - in an unbothered stroll, you’re making your way to them. When the Panther’s stern, cold gaze meets his, the man feels anxiety building up in his chest. If Kaz had a sister, that would be her. In any other circumstances, he’d laugh at that thought but with the fiend in front of him, humour has somehow fled.

Jesper slowly puts down his drink, his other hand mindlessly resting on top of the revolver behind his belt. “I don’t know but I don’t like this.”

Inej scrunches her nose. "I always imagined it’s a man."

"Well, I thought she'd be, you know, bigger,” Jesper says in a hushed voice. The Slat is strangely quiet and you’re sure to hear his comment if he speaks any louder. “Considering Panther and all."

You stop in front of them. Physique-wise, you don’t seem very threatening to either of the Crows. No, it’s something in the air, as though your presence elicits some kind of aura that makes people want to flee from sight, noisy lowlifes become as meek as sheep. Jesper wonders if this is how aristocrats and politicians feel when someone mentions the Queen of Beggars.

Golden Panther looks between the two of them. In an unexpectedly polite fashion, both of your hands are holding the decorative cane. After a moment, your gaze stops on Jesper. You look him up and down but he’s unsure whether he should feel threatened or flattered.

“You’re the one who got into that fight yesterday, aren’t you?” you finally ask.

Oh, that.

Jesper grips the gun tighter. “Yeah, that would be me.”

You put your hand into the pocket of your dress trousers, apathetic eyes still set on him, and pull out a wad of banknotes. Without looking at them, never even thinking to count the amount, you lay it next to his drink on the bar counter.

“For the trouble. Buy yourself something nice. Where’s the owner?”

“In his office,” Jesper answers with a vague motion of his hand.

With a curt nod of your head, you leave the two Crows to find the man you’ve been truly looking for. When you’re out of earshot, the stairs creaking under your weight, Jesper turns to Inej:

“Did I just get pocket money from Lady Belladonna?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“I’m afraid you did.”

Immediately, he grabs the wad of cash, counting the banknotes. His eyes only grow wider as the stack of 50s doesn’t seem to end - Jesper Fahey is suddenly something of a rich man.

You don’t knock. The door swings open and Kaz is about to tell off anyone who’s disturbing him when he notices you standing on the threshold. Without a word of either warning or welcome, he grabs his cane. Twisting off the top of your staff, you pull the accessory slightly apart, revealing a sharp blade hidden inside.

“Show me yours, tough guy. Bet mine’s bigger,” you jest. Then you close the cane and Kaz, although hesitant, lets go of his. “I come in peace.”

“What brings you here?” he asks impatiently.

You take a deep breath and sigh. The chair in front of him is left vacant but considering the reason for your visit, it would be impolite to sit around. “I’d like to apologize.” Kaz raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows the business well enough to know that people of your sort don’t adhere to courtesy often. “The fight that broke out yesterday? My boys. They weren’t supposed to be here but that doesn’t change anything. What’s done is done and since they wear claws around their necks, they’re my responsibility.”

For a moment you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. It’s the right thing to do but Saints’ mercy, is it humiliating. Kaz doesn’t say anything, curious anticipation egging him to let the tense silence squeeze the truth out of you.

You look at him again. The anger of having to fawn on someone makes you tighten the grip on your cane. "I can pay you for the damages but I can't undo the injuries or the fucking headache. Instead, I'm offering you my service. One job, no matter how bloody insane, I'll do it. Just leave my boys alone."

Kaz sits back in his chair, taking in the fascinating turn of events. In all of your demimonde courtesy, you’ve done exactly what he had expected you to do. You swear there’s a shadow of a grin creeping unto his face and that’s when you realize you’ve probably manoeuvred yourself into a problematic, inescapable corner. If half of the stories they say about him are true, you’re going to shake hands with death herself in the nearest future, probably more than once.

A scoff flies past your lips. You look at him through squinted eyes but he doesn’t seem to mind that. Why would he? He just scored a jackpot without stepping out of his office.

“I know that look, Brekker,” you stress the sudden lack of courtesy. “You’ve been waiting for this moment your whole fucking life, haven’t you? The Golden Panther at your beck and call.”

“There is one job that will utilize your methods,” he puts a strange, although meaningful stress on the word, “but it’s nothing sure for now.”

He plays his cards well. So well, in fact, that you can’t tell whether he’s honest or bluffing. The only thing you are sure of is that if he lives up to his name, Kaz is bound to have some kind of ace up his sleeve, even if it’s unadulterated rage - he will either find or create a problem for you to solve, never as much as entertain the thought of passing up on your offer.

There is simply no way that a man of his skill and expertise doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. Like those miserable churchgoers praying to the Saints for a sign, you too now have to obediently await the fateful word of Kaz Brekker. You’re a fiddle and through your own goodwill, you have appointed him a fucking virtuoso.

“I’ll be anticipating your word, Brekker,” you grit the last bits of politeness through your teeth. “In the meantime, don’t try to think about me too often. Might neglect your business and the panther…” your voice trails off and you shrug with faux innocence, “The panther only needs to find you once.”

“It’s a bold assumption that I spend any minute of my time thinking about you.”

“Well, you’re doing it now, aren’t you?” The cocky smile on your face only annoys him. “До свидания,” you throw while vaguely saluting at him.

When the door shuts behind you, Kaz lets out a frustrated sigh. You’re going to make this whole operation incomparably easier for him - that is, if he doesn’t kills you first. For the sake of his sanity.

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prideofcelestia · 2 years

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❝ with a mc who is a god when it comes to making food ❞

« characters - mammon, belphegor, solomon »

« gender neutral reader »

« headcanons »

« notes - requested by anon »

satan, asmo, beel

MAMMON

You are so distracting, human! Every time he is plotting something shady, the aroma of your food attracts him to the kitchen and renders him incapable of thinking more about his schemes. Can you not cook when he is busy with ideas to make grimm?! Kitchen duty is no excuse! You owe him a significant amount in damages! How do you wish to pay for your misdeeds? What did you say? You will make his favourite meal? Umm.. of course, he will accept the offer, but only because you are a poor human, more precisely his own servant. Since he is a kind hearted master, he will let it slide. Do not for a moment believe that he likes to eat your food! Nuh uh, the food is alright, he guesses since nobody complaints but that's all. If you ever catch him staring at your food with drool in his mouth, then you are mistaken.

It takes him a few weeks to come up with the plan of starting a restaurant, and trying to get you to be the cook. The brothers bet on how long it will take him to get that exact idea. Satan and Levi wins the bet, with Satan believing that Mammon will figure it out a day sooner and Levi expecting it to be a day later than the original date.

BELPHEGOR

Well, being the twin of the food lover and having their stomachs attached comes with its own set of quirks. For one, Belphie loves to eat, just as ardently as he loves to see his twin eating heartily and you happy. He's not one to refuse a meal you have prepared but he's just the one to to order you to feed him while he lazes around. There's something about the food you prepare, some X factor, just like the way you are special. You practically live with Beel and Belphie with how often you are requested to cook for them. Belphie is seen in your room on the days of his kitchen duty. It seems like a waste for him to cook when they can have your food. For the first time in his indolent life, he is not trying to escape responsibility completely, rather he is genuinely looking forward to your cooking at dinner.

SOLOMON

He's impressed by your culinary skills. The faith he puts in your taste is so huge that he genuinely requests you to give him tips so that he can improve his own cooking. Love is enhanced when you can feed your homemade meal to your partner, or so he says. One day you trod into his room to find a candlelit table with... is that food?... laid on it. Tada, that is the sorcerer's attempt at impressing you with his own talents... at cooking! Disastrous! A fear that if you put a spoonful of his food in your mouth, you will never wish to eat again consumes you. After quickly coming up with an excuse, you finally tell him that you find real joy in cooking for him rather than have him cook for you. You would rather impress the witty sorcerer with your skills. After all, Solomon is proficient at so many activities that you wish to have one thing completely for yourself - cooking. He tries to argue, but you put your foot down on it. Even though he is a little upset, he can't complain as long as he gets to wolf down your delicious food.

#obey me #gender neutral reader #obey me x reader #gender neutral mc #obey me x mc #obey me!#shion script #obey me headcanons #obey me solomon #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #x mc #x reader

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andreal831 · 2 months

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Honestly, if I had to be honest, I could never get myself to like Hayley even after all she went through. Like I believe in karma and the very fact that she tried to build a family with Klaus after they both mutually destroyed Tyler's life - and they could never end up being the proper family they wanted with Hope in the end. Same could also be said about her betraying the hybrids yet going to NOLA where the Crescent Pack - cursed to be wolves every day except for one night - with members that have either betrayed her or got killed fighting battles not theirs for the sake of "loyalty" (I will also mention the Crescent Curse meant they were isolated from the werewolf grapevine outside of NOLA, so Hayley arrived with a blank slate). We - or I - still don't even have outright confirmation that she knew Oliver was the one who killed Eve, her only surviving relative. So even if it wasn't just Tyler, karma was always at Hayley's heel when her actions led to something horrific that she had to pay for.

But I think the reason why I dislike her is for Hope's sake. Yes, Hayley protected her and put her first first - but I think she was still selfish about it. We hear nothing about the years Hope was growing up on the road, like was she always stuck in a safehouse or did she interact with normal people. And on that note, we never got a clear reason why Hayley just packed up and left and didn't bring any Crescent members - who have the abilities of a hybrid (which is a joke when they got slaughtered easily) - even if Mary vouched for them. That doesn't make sense unless what I mentioned above about the Crescents being isolated comes into play and Hayley was worried about hypothetical pack members learning about what she's done before coming to NOLA and didn't want to chance anything (another thing, Tyler was still living while Hayley was looking for pack venom, so his possible influence with North America packs would have been an interesting hindrance to see).

So, if I'm not being clear, for going to a new state with virtually no one knowing her past misdeeds and those who did either being dead (I believe Jackson knew via truth ritual) or indisposed (the Mikaelsons), Hayley had to have struggled getting help because of being in relations with the Mikaelsons, the mother of Klaus's daughter, and an old friend-turned-enemy they stupidly left alive knowing he knew enough information to have packs turning her away. And how does this relate to Hope? Because if Hayley and Klaus have zero love in the werewolf community and know the truth, why would they trust Hope? I imagine the open invitation from the community by just being werewolf-affiliated or having the curse doesn't fall on Hope because her parents' treatment with werewolves...and that's if you had decent writing and proper consequences at work.

Also, in a previous ask, you said sending Hope to Salvatore made no sense..but it actually does if you wanna wager that the School Pack being made up of werewolves that either had no idea of their werewolf curse until triggered or lost their pack early in life would have no idea who Hope was or what her family is to werewolf current history, so like Hayley and the Crescents, Hope has a clean break at gaining the trust of werewolves who don't have anything to affiliate her with. And sending Hope to Salvatore also makes sense if you wanna also add in the fact perhaps certain Crescents may have felt bitter towards Hayley and it could have gone down to Hope. It probably did get better with time if Hope left to eat crawfish with them, but there's probably some distance given everything that happened. And then following how Hope used Henry - a fellow Crescent - by helping him become a hybrid and didn't do what was necessary like break the sirebond or help him gain control, and when that wasn't enough, kidnapping Hayley - the only parent in her life - just to get Klaus's attention, which led to the mess in S5...

Then, yes, I can't have it in myself care about Hayley. Just, she's a mom who's gonna do whatever it takes to do right by Hope but there's so many underlying things that sabotage her efforts. I get Hayley wanted to give her child a mom that always forgives her, but she dealt with Klaus's BS for years - so she should have doubled down on this behavior as soon as it was evidentiary. And furthering back, she's only acting out - and using people, as Mikaelsons do - because of Klaus. Klaus Mikaelson, who we watched for 3 seasons have several people reassure his relationship with Hope was solid and he could be a good dad only to foil it when Hope got a glimpse of the man everyone hated - and the one to even inspire Hope to love him to begin with was Hayley, so she looks like an idiot because Hope's 7 years of wanting his attention is technically on her because she encouraged this when Hope only had her to rely on. If Hayley's only redeeming quality was being a good mom to Hope, she would have: said "screw The Hollow", got Rebekah to track Klaus down, got on the first plane and dragged him back to Hope to explain himself because as bad as her child being possessed by her evil ancestors is, making her child feel unloved and unwanted (the very things Hayley promised her she wouldn't feel on the day she was born) was even worse and should have taken more precedence.

And if I had to warrant it, this is what got Hayley killed: If not staying by the Mikaelsons side and fighting for them, it's by half-assing things with Hope so badly - not being truthful about the real world, not preparing her for the consequences of Klaus's and her actions, kicking Klaus's ass in gear sooner - that the kid had to act like a Mikaelson, running her own childhood, and Hayley's head got put on the cutting board as a result.

(I'm so sorry, this came out harsher than I intended - I edited a lot but still came out this way. I care for Hope, but have responsibility where it lies, but if I had to blame anyone for orchestrating how Hope of S5 came to be, I blame Hayley - and Freya because I think she might have been undermining her parenting behind her back.)

Hi love, I know this is an old ask. Sorry, I'm just now responding. I know we discussed it a little already but I wanted to make sure I responded fully!

I personally don't believe in karma, especially in the context of TVDU. If anyone had karma coming for them, Hayley honestly wouldn't be high on the list. We are dealing with people who have been serial killers for decades/centuries/millennium. Yes, Hayley did some truly terrible things, but she learned and grew. I don't blame Tyler for his hatred to Hayley and Klaus and even how he went after them. But if we are saying that Hayley's karma is why she couldn't have a proper family in the end, why did Damon get one? Why did Caroline? Why did Kol get to get married to Davina? Or Rebekah and Marcel? They have all done equally (mostly worse) than Hayley. Why didn't Bonnie get her happy ending? Or Jenna? Or Cami? Or Eve? Karma can't play a role in TVDU because we are dealing with terrible people as the 'heroes' where the innocents are sacrificed as plot devices.

I think the only reason Hayley didn't bring anyone with her when she ran was because she had to get out of there quickly. She also never wanted her pack to sacrifice their lives for her. Jackson had just been killed because of his attachment to her. She wasn't going to risk anyone else for her. I wish the show would have gone more into the pack politics because I can't believe Oliver was the only pack member who had issues with Hayley's relationships with the Mikaelsons. This also could have played a part in it. She knew she would spend the next few years of her life doing anything to get the Mikaelsons back. This probably wouldn't be super popular with the pack.

The pack wouldn't have cared about her past. Let's be honest, they were not the most noble pack. They were ready to turn on each other and any one else for power. I don't think they would have cared that she got 12 random wolves killed to find them when they were willing to kill each other over moon rings.

We don't know what was happening during the time jump, but we can assume they didn't have much interaction with the outside world. This is something we know Hayley feels badly about since she argues with Klaus about keeping her isolated in New Orleans. Hayley understands what it is to grow up alone and never wanted that for Hope. But even more than that, she wants Hope safe. If we look at Maslow's hierarchy of needs, the first two bases of the pyramid are physiological needs (food and shelter) and safety. These come before social needs. I wish we could have seen more of this time and seen the conflicts she may have run into while trying to bring the Mikaelsons back. As you said, Tyler could have played a role or even just Hayley's reputation with the Mikaelsons.

You say that Hayley had no love from the wolves, but that isn't true. Hayley was still very respected with the packs that she ran with when she was young. We see this in season 3 when she and Klaus run into them. It would have been nice to see Hayley go back to them during the time jump and reconnect with her werewolf side as well as having Hope around other wolves. The Crescent Pack also still respects Hayley which is why she can come back after five years and still rebuild leading up to season 5.

Yes, Hayley got 12 wolves killed. But this is not going to destroy her relationship with the packs even if they all know. She isn't the only wolf to do this. We see Tyler get wolves killed when he sides with the MF Gang. Or the fact that when we are first introduced to wolves, Jules and her pack are willing to throw Tyler under the bus in order to get the moonstone. The wolves have zero loyalty to other wolves and have wavering loyalty to their own packs. It's no wonder Hayley behaved the way she did.

Now, the pack trusting Hope is interesting. I haven't watched Legacies but I've seen enough edits to know Hope does go back to NOLA and interact with the wolves. And they don't trust her. I think she even beheads one of them (and we are supposed to think it's badass or something??). Hope basically has to tell them that they shouldn't want a monarchy or even a hierarchy of alphas. But to your point, most of the Crescent fighting was generational because of this hierarchy. Hope didn't need to earn their respect because they operated as a monarchy -- which is the problem with monarchies.

I still hold that sending Hope to the Salvator School made no sense. You point out that it gives her a fresh start with the wolves, but when she was there initially, I don't think they even knew she was a wolf. She was Hope Marshall, a normal, average witch. In the few episodes I watched of Legacies, she doesn't seem to be forming any connections with the wolves. We never see any sign that the Crescents feel bitter towards Hope or Hayley until Hope turns one of them into a hybrid. Which is something that could have been prevented if Hope had been raised in New Orleans and learned about the faction issues. She would have had a better understanding of the Crescent Wolves. It also would have set her up better if she did want to be Alpha one day.

Hayley was a young mom put into an impossible situation. It was only made worse by every other member of Hope's family. You are placing the blame of Hope's behavior because of Klaus' neglect on Hayley. Kids misbehave. It's inevitable. Especially ones with werewolf tempers and absentee fathers. If you agree that sending Hope to the Salvator School was the right option, we really should be blaming Alaric for not being more aware or even Caroline who was at the school in season 5. If anything, I blame Hayley for sending Hope to the school. She would have never let Hope behave the way Alaric did. As soon as she heard, she went straight to the school and pulled Hope home. She made sure Hope knew it was wrong, but still felt supported and loved. Hayley also immediately began attempting to clean up her 15 year old's mess, as any good mom would do.

Hayley also never encouraged Klaus to stay away. She constantly wrote to him and even sent Caroline after him to make him listen. She is not his keeper. It was his choice to stay away. It was not her job to make a deadbeat dad be a parent. She tried to make Hope feel her father's love through stories and reinforcing always and forever, but she couldn't jeopardize Hope's safety. But to your statement, she can't win. Her telling Hope Klaus loved her only served to encourage Hope to fight for a relationship with her dad. But if she had poisoned Hope against Klaus so that Hope wouldn't even care that he abandoned her, that would be problematic too. Hayley didn't even know why Klaus stopped talking to Hope. He just disappeared one day. And when Klaus wants to stay gone, he does. But no, sorry, Hope's emotions were not more important than her life. Which is why every single Mikaelsons agreed to separate in order to protect Hope's safety.

You put the entirety of the Mikaelson burden on Hayley. Hayley was an excellent mother and gave Hope a chance to be a child. Klaus is the reason Hope felt unloved. Klaus is the reason Hope kidnapped Hayley and Hayley ended up dead. He couldn't cope with being a father and abandoned Hope, leaving Hayley to be a single mother with only the support of Freya. If anyone is to blame for season 5, it is Klaus. Which is the theme of the show. The Mikaelsons are their own undoing and anyone who gets caught up with them pays the price.

Sure, Hayley could have raised Hope to be a warrior. Trapped her in a house and raised her to train and fight and be ready for all of Klaus' enemies. But how would she be any different than Mikael? Mikael wanted to raise warriors so he neglected and abused his children. Or how Klaus 'raised' Marcel. All of these children grew up to resent their upbringing. Hayley wasn't going to do that. Hope deserved a childhood. Every child does. Children should not pay the price for their parents. This is shown in season 4 when Hayley stops Freya from torturing Keelin. We see numerous times that Klaus supports this. He also wants to protect Hope's innocents. Which is why he gets mad at Freya for helping with the Chambre in season 5 or when Freya tries to help suppress her wolf side. At the end of the day, Klaus and Hayley are Hope's parents and they are on the same page. They wanted their child to have the life they didn't.

And all of this would have worked out great had Klaus not abandoned Hope. If Klaus had stayed in contact with Hope and continued to try and find a solution for the Hollow, Hope could have had a safe and happy childhood. At the end of the day, Klaus was the problem and Hayley was just working with what she had to give her daughter the best possible life. Something Hope appreciated and loved Hayley for.

Thanks for the ask!

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hollowed-theory-hall · 4 days

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detentions: what do you think about them?

I assume this is in the context of Harry Potter because otherwise, I can't say much as my school didn't really do detentions. I'm gonna talk about detentions in HP and a bit about what my school did instead.

Now, detentions vary between the books quite a bit (probably because the Wizarding World & Hogwarts changed in JKR's mind), so, I'll outline the different types of detentions and what I think about them in general. I will not include detentions like with Umbridge or the Carrows, since that clearly isn't what's supposed to be happening at the school by the point we see in canon.

Ridiculously Dangerous Detentions

This sort of detention only really appears in book 1, probably so JKR could have Harry in the forest and see Voldy munching on a unicorn.

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, they’re here to be punished, after all.” “That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.” “I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness. Malfoy now turned to Hagrid. “I’m not going in that forest,” he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice. “Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

(PS)

From the later books, it appears this sort of detention isn't normal. And for good reason. I mean, it's bizarre to send 11-year-old kids whose only defensive ability is shooting red sparks to spend the entire night in the Forbidden Forest, where something is killing unicorns. Yes, Hagrid is with them, but technically Hagrid isn't allowed to carry a wand and even if he is there, the group gets separated so Hagrid isn't with them at all times.

I assume this was a special case detention and not the norm. Likely personally requested either by Hagrid or Dumbledore for various possible reasons. Regardless I consider this one an outlier that shouldn't be counted since there is something deeper and more specific going on in this particular detention.

I'd also want to note:

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air. “Teaching,” said Moody. “Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms. “Yep,” said Moody. “No!” cried Professor McGonagall [...] “Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?” “He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, “but I thought a good sharp shock —” “We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

(GoF)

That I find McGonagall's outrage funny here. I mean, yeah, a student could get hurt badly as a bouncing ferret, but so could four 11-year-olds you send to spend the night in the forest filled with dangerous, lethal creatures that is coincidentally right next to the school.

What Hogwarts Detentions are Actually Like

So, the Forbidden Forest one, as I said, was a unique exception but what does a normal student’s detention look like?

It looks like manual labor:

You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch,” said Professor McGonagall. “And no magic, Weasley — elbow grease.”

(CoS)

It was, as Harry had anticipated, useless, boring work, punctuated (as Snape had clearly planned) with the regular jolt in the stomach that meant he had just read his father or Sirius’s names, usually coupled together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those of Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. And while he copied out all their various offenses and punishments

(HBP)

Cleaning trophies, sorting detention records, signing photos for Lockhart — basically something boring and manual that wastes your time. This is pretty normal as far as detentions go (I think, again, my school didn't have them), but from what I read/saw/heard detention is a time you are supposed to spend quite at school, being supervised and not having fun while not being hurt. So, yeah, the Hogwarts detentions we see mostly fit the bill (save for Lockhart who keeps Harry in detention way too late, but, that's a Lockhart problem).

Now, do I think this is an effective punishment that doesn't harm students unnecessarily but still deters them from further wrongdoing? Not particularly.

I mean, we see students like the Mauraders, the Weasley Twins, and even Harry and co aren't at all deterred from their behavior by the school's punishment system. I mean, after book 1, most characters don't seem to care about detentions and house points.

So, detentions seem to be kinda useless since they waste time for the teacher and the student, and the student doesn't seem overly affected, at least, not the ones we follow. I'm not really an authority over disciplinary punishments in schools, and at the end of the day a student with a strong enough will / doesn't care about staying at school, wouldn't care for any punishment and you'll need to improve behavior by a method that isn't based on punishment. Fear is a motivator that can only get you so far.

I mean, Sirius mentions he and James had too much fun in detentions together and that's why teachers separated them to actually punish them. And then, James and Sirius made the two-way mirrors and still had fun in detentions.

This is why detentions never deterred them from anything. It's a relatively soft punishment, and if you don't mind sitting around, it's hardly a punishment at all. That being said, I am incredibly opposed to corporal punishment.

What did my school do

As I mentioned, I'm no expert in student discipline, but I can talk about my own experiences. My high school was a weird semi-private school and didn't do detentions (when I'm saying weird, I mean weird. We had peacocks walking around between the buildings like at Malfoy Manor. Sometimes, they got inside the buildings. Who needs hall monitors when you have hall peacocks. We also had school goats, and one of them attacked my mom once). We didn't really have punishments at school at all. Teachers just told us very clearly: "If you enter the classroom, it means you're here to learn. Don't want to learn, stay outside," and that was kinda it. You weren't punished for skipping class besides low grades, so it made behaving well in class a student's responsibility. You won't be punished, you'd just be told to leave and your grades would be what suffers.

Class was a pretty freeform kind of environment as well with most teachers. Like, students with hyperactivity were allowed to pace at the back of the classroom during lessons, students could sit on the window seal if they were more comfortable there, you could come and go from most of the classes as you pleased (especially in the final two years), and on nice days, sometimes, we'd have our classes outside on the lawn. Most classes acted more like discussions rather than just a teacher lecturing at you. I had classes where the teachers told me I could just skip since I'm ahead of the class and I'd use these hours to do homework in other subjects. I had a classmate who despised one of our teachers personally, so she made an agreement with him that he'd not arrive at her classes, study on his own during class time and only arrive to do exams. Because this is how the school operated, we didn't really have displanary issues in classes, hence no detentions.

Any sort of fighting or bullying that got to the staff was punished by an immediate suspension, during which your parents were expected to be the ones to dish out the punishment they found appropriate. You only got 3 suspensions, anything suspension-worthy you did after that almost always got you expelled, and that'll be the end of it. So, that wasn't much of an issue either. I actually don't really know of bullying that happened at my school (at least nothing extreme and targeted. Mean comments flew about for sure, but no one really cared, everyone was making fun of everyone pretty equally. The school only got involved when things got violent or verbally extreme. Like, calling someone a 'shithead' here and there doesn't count), I heard about fights, and even was in one, but not bullying. The fights were not a common occurrence either, most students (and teachers) were just pretty chill, especially in the upper years.

So, yeah, that's what I have to say about detentions.

#harry potter #hp #hollowedrambling #hp meta #sorta #some of my own life stories too #asks #anonymous

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cowboycannibalism · 2 years

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I seen this 3 weeks ago but I'm barely posting it because I forgot lol work got crazy

okay some immediate thoughts on The Menu (2022), I literally just got out of the theater so it's very fresh and jumbled in my mind. ⚠️some spoilers included⚠️

Definitely a slow start and requires paying attention to little details to really get a read on the individual characters but I really enjoyed that. It makes you uneasy throughout most of it

It could have used a little more gore/blood but honestly the kills that happened were so jarring and unexpected it made up for the lack of blood

my sister ( a person who went to culinary school), and I (a person who went to art school) both enjoyed the aesthetic of the movie very very much! especially the close ups of the individual courses and descriptions that went along with them. they were beautiful and an interesting way to break up scenes

the characters were all so well done in terms of making you not root for them lol. a group of stuck up, rich people who just right off the bat were people I knew I wouldn't like

that being said the casting was wonderful! everyone played their character so well!

Tyler was so annoying! He had hyperfixated vibes at first where it was very relatable that he was so obsessed with the restaurant and the chef and everything. But as the movie went on he treated Margot like shit for not being as interested even though he was fucking paying her!! like bro you just spent half of the beginning of this saying she was so cool and being cutesy with her and also oh yeah she's an escort so quit being a dick you had to pay her to be there!

I will say Tyler's death definitely hurt me in a weird way. Watching Slowik humiliate him in front of everyone and then say something so cruel that he goes to kill himself...oof.

Also Tyler knowing for 8 months about everything!!! fuck dude.

Lilian and Ted were so realistic in the way that food critics(or any high end critics)talk about the dishes put in front of them. They could never just enjoy something, they always had to find the negative, never could be pleased or satisfied because that doesn't make an interesting review

Margot standing up to Slowik and making him make her a cheeseburger because of his past was so beautiful. Her push back to him being both disrespectful and firm while also giving him back that memory of being a line cook at a burger place from his youth. Of reawakening that love of cooking in him for just a moment.

the overall theme of an artist losing their love for their craft not necessarily it being their fault but because of the community that surrounds that medium was very rough for me to watch as an artist. The art world(any form of art) is so full of classicism and the further you get, the more praise you receive, the more known you become, the harsher it is to you. Not for the sake of bettering you or the craft, no its often just a game of egos and money and fame. Slowik had started off a line cook with a love of what he was doing and then to please the community that surrounded him he changed, and the thing that he loved, that he cherished, it became a chore. a punishment.

Everyone had a reason to be there and I can't find any pity for them except maybe the workers in the kitchen.

the scene with the tortillas had me screaming!!! the exposure of the misdeeds was mwah!!!

Also the fact that no one really tried their hardest to get away was really interesting. they protested things happening to them, they screamed and yelled and tried to escape a few times but it never felt frantic, it never felt like they were desperate to live.

that ties into the way that they eventually accept their fate at the end. they know why they're all there and they know it's pointless to fight or scream about their status or offer money/fame/etc.

they also all in their own way had lost their way in life and the whole menu was designed to show them that as well as how they ruined Slowik's love of his art

#the menu #horror #horror films #movie review #the menu 2022 #anya taylor joy #yami's movie thoughts

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sunflowerabyss · 9 months

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Charms of Fate: Chapter 12

Paring: Remus Lupin x Fem!Professor!Reader

Series Masterlist

Plot: Amidst the echoes of a bygone era, you return to Hogwarts years after parting ways with Hogwarts. What begins as a journey fueled by nostalgia transforms into an unexpected reunion with Remus Lupin, now a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As the past intertwines with the present, the two former classmates navigate the complexities of grief, the resurgence of friendship, and the unwritten chapters of their shared history in this tale of rediscovery and the magic that binds them together.

Warnings: slight angst (mention of Buckbeak's execution)

________________________________________________

You've been savoring the moments spent with Remus, the connection growing stronger since your heartfelt confessions. However, a shadow of unease crept in as Remus started offering vague excuses for missing nights together, even when it wasn't the full moon. The mysterious disappearances left you with an eerie feeling, and despite your smitten state, a subtle concern lingered in the background.

You decided you were going to visit Hagrid, both as a distraction from Remus' odd behavior and to pay your respects to the hippogriff before he was...well...

You make your way to Hagrid's hut, a heaviness in your heart knowing about Buckbeak's grim fate. As you approached, the familiar sounds of magical creatures and the comfort of Hagrid's hospitality welcomed you despite the dire situation. The door creaks open, and Hagrid looks up from his table, a mixture of sadness and resignation in his eyes.

Knocking on the door while walking inside, you called out, "Hagrid, it's me."

The door creaked open, revealing the half-giant with a sad smile. "Ah, come in, come in. Yer here to talk about Buckbeak, ain't ya?" he grumbles, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation.

You nod, taking a seat and expressing your concern for the gentle creature. Hagrid sighs, sharing his frustration about the unfairness of the situation.

"It's a travesty, it is. Draco provoked Buckbeak, anyone with eyes could see that. But the Ministry, they won't listen. It's a bunch of codswallop," Hagrid mutters, his massive hands fumbling with a teacup.

You couldn't stand that blond little weasel.

Frustration bubbled within you; you can't help but express your disdain for Draco Malfoy's actions. "Honestly, Hagrid, that Malfoy kid is nothing short of a sorry sod. Reminds me of his crybaby father, always whining and running to daddy for help. It's unfair that Buckbeak has to pay the price for his petty grudges."

Hagrid snort, but nods solemnly, his eyes reflecting your sentiments. "Yer right, it ain't fair at all. But the Ministry's got their minds set, and there's not much we can do about it."

You continue to vent your frustration, sharing stories of Draco's past misdeeds and the apparent bias against certain students. Hagrid listens, occasionally grunting or muttering in agreement.

You slightly jumped, startled, at the door to Hagrid's hut flies open. You find Ron, Harry, and Hermione standing outside, looking concerned. "We heard about Buckbeak. Is Hagrid okay?" Ron asks, his voice filled with worry.

Hagrid, gruff but welcoming, gestures for the trio to come inside of his home. They talk amongst themselves before Hagrid gestures toward a jar where he's placed Scabbers, Ron's rat. "Keep an eye on your pets, Ron."

The sudden crash of a breaking pot startles everyone, and you watch as Hermione discreetly picks up a small rock. Another rock is thrown, hitting the back of Harry's head. He quickly turns, trying to find the source of the disturbance. You follow his gaze and see Dumbledore, Fudge, and the executioner approaching Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid, sensing trouble, mutters, "It's getting late. You lot should leave out the back door so you don't get caught."

Harry nods, "Right, let's go," he pauses, turning to Hagrid "It'll be okay, I promise." Hagrid just nods, tears in his eyes as he waves them off.

You get up from your seat before the trio slips out the back door. You walk after them. "I'll come with you. Just in case we need to explain ourselves," you offer.

Hagrid gives you a grateful nod, "Take care, all of ya."

Quickly and quietly, the four of you stealthily slipped out of the back door and took cover behind a massive pile of pumpkins. You waited in tense silence, vigilant for any sign of danger. Just as you believed the coast was clear, a twig snapped behind you, causing both Hermione and you to swiftly turn around. Finding nothing, you all continued toward the castle, wary and on edge.

As you reached the top of the slope, the executioner's axe swung down, marking the end of Buckbeak's life. Hermione couldn't hold back her tears, clutching onto Ron, who wore a somber expression. Harry, empathetic, wrapped an arm around Hermione, sharing in the collective grief. You stood there in silent shock, tears streaming down your face; you gently brushed them away, offering silent support.

Suddenly, the focus of Buckbeak's death shifted as Ron yelped in pain as Scabbers, his rat, bit him and darted off toward the Whomping Willow.

"Scabbers!" Ron yelled, taking off after his pet. "Scabbers, come back!"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted as the rest of you took off after Ron.

You, Harry, and Hermione halted, watching as Ron finally caught up with Scabbers. However, the atmosphere shifted when Ron warned them about the Grim standing behind them. Confused, you turned around, only to see a menacing black dog growling. In a swift motion, the dog leaped over you, targeting Ron. It took him by the ankle and dragged him under the Whomping Willow.

Amidst the chaos, Harry, Hermione, and you panicked, unable to reach Ron as the Whomping Willow swung its branches at you. Tossed around for what felt like ages, you finally found yourselves thrown into the hole where Ron had disappeared. As you groaned on the ground, you muttered, "I do not get paid enough for this."

The three of you exchanged worried glances, taking in your surroundings. The eerie silence was broken by you, who, with a wry smile, quipped, "Well, this is quite the unexpected adventure, isn't it?"

Harry, trying to lighten the mood, responded, "At least we're not being chased by giant spiders this time."

Hermione, ever practical, interjected, "Let's focus on finding Ron and getting out of here."

You, Harry, and Hermione cautiously entered the dilapidated building, the eerie creaks of the abandoned house echoing in the air. We're in the Shrieking Shack. The cracked stairs groaned under your weight as you ascended to the top floor. The air grew colder, and the atmosphere more foreboding.

Reaching a room that seemed frozen in time, you found Ron huddled on the floor with Scabbers, fear etched across his face. The room held an otherworldly stillness, broken only by Ron's urgent warning. He whispered to Harry, cautioning that it was a trap, and the man in the corner was the dog—an Animagus.

Your eyes followed Ron's gaze to the shadowy figure standing in the corner behind the broken door. The man's prison clothes clung to his emaciated frame, his hair disheveled, teeth askew. The room held its breath as recognition dawned. It was Sirius Black, the man believed to be after Harry.

"If you want to kill Harry, then you'll have to kill us too," Hermione says, placing herself in front of the boy-who-lived.

"No," Sirius says, stalking towards them, "only one will die tonight."

"Then it'll be you!" Harry shouts, throwing himself towards Sirius. They both fall to the ground, Harry pulling his wand out. Sirius laughs maniacally.

"Are you going to kill me Harry?" Sirius asks.

"Harry!" You shout, grabbing the boy by the shirt and getting him off of your former friend. Pulling out your own wand, it seems as if Sirius has finally noticed you.

"(Y/N), my dear, it has been an awful long time," Sirius says.

"You're looking worse for wear, Padfoot," you comment, pushing your wand closer to him. "Those days in Azkaban did you dirty." Sirius only laughed at you. I really hope it wasn't you. "I won't let you kill the boy, Sirius," you whispered, your wand at his neck.

Suddenly, the door is thrown open and you quickly turn around. You see Remus, your heart growing large. However, before you have time to process anything, he points his wand at you.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouts, your wand flinging out of your hand.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #older!remus lupin #older!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin x reader #professor!remus lupin #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #hogwarts #jk rowling

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greetingfromthedead · 1 month

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8. Eye of the Storm

Series: Mermaid!AU Depth of Despair

Pairing: Vash x GN!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

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You threw your life away. No matter how you look at it, you arrive at the same conclusion. It is your burden to bear, and yours alone. Vash should not suffer because of you; he should be able to move on with his life. You want him to be happy, and forget the nightmares you must have left him with. He saw you, everything about you. And he will never be able to erase that image from his mind. He saw who you really are, submerged in the water where you belong. He saw the monster, and you lifted the glamour that would blind him to your true nature. You cannot hide from his gaze anymore, and you hope you never have to, because the guilt is already eating you alive.

At first, you swam away, heading for the distant horizon you have never been to before, but the further you got, the heavier your heart felt. It doesn't feel right to leave Vash behind, hoping he will survive and simply leave all these horrors behind him. Nicholas knows about him; others probably do too. They will make him a target just to spite you. Vash won't be safe from your kin anymore. None of this is his fault, so you cannot turn your back on him.

And so you remain. A sentry not to your people but to your enemy. Lingering near enough to the shore to know if anyone tries to make their way up the river to where Vash lives. You are careful not to be seen by anyone, not by humans or other merfolk. Loneliness quickly creeps into your bones. Vash had given you a taste of companionship, understanding, and friendship, but now it only serves as a bitter reminder of the weight of your misdeeds.

You glide along the sandy ocean floor, the sea grass brushing against the scales on your back, caressing the fins and your long tail. It is dark, but sleep has eluded you for a while. The minimal magic found in raw fish meat keeps you going, but physically, you still feel exhausted and weak. The warm light from the lighthouse shimmers at the tips of the waves, glimmering as you keep watch. At first, everything is quiet; only the lapping of the waves against the beaches and reefs lulls your mind away from thoughts of guilt and doom. But then you notice something else. A different rhythm disturbs the currents, and you recognize it as oars hitting the water, propelling what must be a small boat. You pay it no mind; the humans don't interest you anymore; you keep away and just let the fishermen go about their business. You're somewhat glad for the nets they string up in the bay area; it keeps others away, and you've learned to be careful and even steal fish from the traps. You would have brushed it all off and ignored it if a faint and distorted melody didn't mix with the splashes of the oars. You recognize it as one you've heard the drunken sailors sing in the ports and on their boats. A very old song.

In the moonlit waves, where the sea meets sky, A sailor’s heart beats with a longing sigh. He sails the ocean, both near and far, Dreaming of his love, beneath the evening star.

It stirs you from your absentmindedness back into reality. You can only barely make out the words being sung, but you've always listened from the shadows of the pier when others have picked up a song, this one being among the favorites of the locals.

Oh, the sea, it whispers tales of woe, Of a sailor’s love in the depths below. With a heart so true, and a soul so free, He yearns for his mermaid, beneath the sea.

This time the shanty isn't accompanied by many slurry voices or a happy instrument. Instead, it sounds sad and haunting. The lone male voice sings by himself, to whom you do not know. Nobody answers or lends their voice to the melody. The longing, mournful notes echo through the water and draw you closer.

Her eyes like pearls, her hair like gold, A beauty so rare, a sight to behold. In the silent depths, where the shadows play, She sings a song that guides his way.

The timbre of the voice sounds familiar even through the disruption of the water, nearly disappearing into the crashing of the currents as the unruly surface of the sea forms tufts of sea foam that skip along the tips of the waves. You swim underneath the simple little boat. Your body is longer than the vessel facing off the rolling tides and stormy winds.

But the waves, they keep them far apart, A cruel fate for a sailor’s heart. So he sails on, through storm and tide, With the hope that one day she’ll be by his side.

You don't bother to wait and to hide your changing form. Your webbed hands take hold on the edge of the boat, your claws scraping the wood before they start to retract. You hoist yourself up enough to see over the edge, salty water dripping from your hair, and the scales and gills disappear from your skin as you inhale the sweet, dry air. The lantern swinging from a hook at the rear of the boat casts light onto your face as the large catlike pupils turn human.

"Is being human really so tedious that one must voluntarily tempt death?" you ask the man clad in red. His eyes widened the moment you appeared, and the melody stopped too as his mouth remained agape at the sight before him. "I told you to stay away from water. Yet here you are."

"I had to see you." Vash says after a moment of gathering himself. He lifts up the oars and puts them into the boat. He looks ready to get out of his seat to come to you as he leans closer. "You left so suddenly, I didn't even get a word out."

"What is there left to say?" You ask as you pull yourself along the side of the boat until you are next to him, the boat tipping towards you.

"More than I am capable of saying." Vash leans closer, his hands supporting his burly form on the same edge you hang off from. "Why did you just leave? Please, tell me."

"I didn't want to hear the terror in your voice." You reply simply, pulling yourself a touch closer to him to see any small change in his dimly lit expression. "Are you not afraid of me?"

"No," he says softly, a hint of a smile dancing on one corner of his mouth. "Why would I be afraid of you? You have never hurt me, or caused me harm. You brought me back to the beach, back to safety. You protected me from one of your own."

"I am a monster," you remind him, "someone your songs caution sailors about."

"You are not a monster. You're a creature from the depths of the sea. You may not be entirely human, but that doesn't make you a monster. Flowers are different from one another, but that doesn't diminish them. It doesn't take away from their marvel." His hand shifts from the edge of the boat to your damp cheek. "You are otherworldly, a beauty beyond the human realm. Inside and out, you are gorgeous. You always are."

"You can see through the glamour now. Look again, and you won't be fooled by the devious magic of my kin." One of your hands grabs hold to the arm that reaches for you.

"I see no difference. From the day I first saw you until this very moment, you look the same—your beautiful self. I don't know what glamour you speak of; I only know what my eyes tell me." He says tenderly, leaning further and further, risking turning his boat over to see you close. His forehead nearly touches yours.

His words make no sense to you. How could he not notice the glamour disappearing? Is the hag stone not working? He would have had to obey your command to stay away from the water if it didn't. Even now, you can see the pebble hanging from the leathery strap around his neck, and you sense your magic in it. What he sees must be the truth; at least when it comes to you.

Compared to most others of your kin, you indeed might look more human in the water, a lot less unsettling than those who have amassed their power and strength, but on the surface, everyone has a human appearance that looks convincing enough to fool anyone unweary. It is a strange irony when it comes to your kind: the more power you gather, the more monstrous your true appearance will become, but on dry land, your glamour will make you even more beautiful to any human being. The moment they lay eyes on a siren, their perception will shatter like glass. Perhaps you are simply so weak that he doesn't notice a difference. You've never talked to a human before him, so you wouldn't know.

"But there is another reason I needed to see you again." Vash continues, but then suddenly stops. The only sound filling the air is the sound of the waves. "I waited for you in the bay; I sent flowers to the open water in hopes you would find them. I can't get you off my mind."

You now feel both his hands cupping your face. You're surprised he hasn't yet fallen into the water with how he leans over the edge. Vash's face is so close; with each sway of the boat, the warm skin of his forehead brushes against yours. You can feel the heat of his breath on your lips and the longing in your heart. The sweet scent of his magic wafts over you like the tide.

"You kissed me." He says so quietly that the words barely reach your ears over the sound of water.

"I had to. A mermaid's kiss will grant you breath, even underwater. You would have drowned otherwise." You answer honestly. It is the truth, just not all of it.

"I see. Of course. That's all it was." Vash nods and pulls back, giving you more room as he leans away, his long-fingered hands releasing your face. He looks unusual. It might be the long shadows cast on his face by the lighthouse and the lantern, but his eyes look different now; the familiar laughter and warmth mix with a hint of sorrow.

You will forever continue to hurt him. No matter what you do, he will be in pain. Your heart still skips in your chest as he pulls more into the boat, and you release the arm you still held on to. You can still hang on to the feeling of his warm skin against yours, as you know you need to let go. You cannot give in to the longing in your chest. His eyes look dark, like the night sky, and his pale skin is reminiscent of the shade of seafoam under the pale moonlight. He doesn't let you retract your arm away from him, instead grabbing on to your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"It doesn't change the fact that you haunt me. Every waking hour, you're all I can think about. Every night, I dream of you." He suddenly says, more insistently than before. "How can I stay away from water if that's where I can find you? You did enchant me with everything you are, and I finally heard your voice."

Everything about him draws you closer. You reach out your other hand towards his face, the sorrowful lines around his eyes deepening as he looks at you with a mixture of longing and sadness. His skin is warm, with a flush of pink brought on by the wind and your touch. His eyes soften as he leans closer again. His hand that holds yours pulls it closer, pressing it gently against his breast. You feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. You only have eyes for him—the shadows dancing on his face and between your bodies. In that moment, nothing else exists in your world except for him, his parted lips, and the warmth of his touch.

Neither of you see through the glimmer on the surface of the water; you don't notice the shadows looming in the inky blackness until they surround you. Hands reach out from the sea, scaly and wet. The long webbed fingers grab hold of your shoulders and your hair, talons digging into the flesh of your arms as they pull you away. You feel more hands grab hold of your tail, dragging you down into the dark abyss below.

It all happens in an instant. The last thing you hear is Vash calling out your name as the waves crash in over you, his fingers slipping from your grasp. The changelings around you hiss and wail, their eyes glowing in the darkness as they close in. There are too many of them to fight off, their claws and teeth dig into your flesh as the fiery glimmer of the lighthouse on the water's surface disappears into the murky darkness of the ocean.

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gemini-sensei · 2 years

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Poly!Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz x Chubby!LaRusso!Reader x Demetri Alexopoulos

Fem!Reader ✨️ suggestive/steamy/fade to black

I finally got to doing this and omg I love it lol. I'll definitely be doing more of this pairing because ahhh! (unedited) (@sensei-venus)

✨️ Demetri and Reader have a friendship from the moment he joins Miyagi-Do. She makes him feel welcome when he comes in and they get close over the summer. If he feels like he's not getting it, she cheers him on and tells him that he's got this. He develops a crush on her by the time school starts.

✨️ The tension between him and Hawk is... a lot, and anytime Hawk wants to come around to mess with Demetri, Reader is right there to back him up. She gets in his face to show him that she isn't going to back down just because he's a "big bad Cobra." He laughs at her and asks her what she's gonna do about it. "Why don't you come over here and find out!"

✨️ Her attitude attracts Hawk in little time, but he keeps up his tough guy act because she's the "enemy." He can't like her.

✨️ In the mean time, he's rolling his eyes as he watches her and Demetri run circles around each other; he looks at her when she's not paying attention, she laughs at all his lame jokes, they walk together in the halls with stupid little smiles on their faces. Hawk hates it and it fuels his misdeeds from time to time...

✨️ When Hawk leaves Cobra Kai, though, Demetri welcomes him with open arms, almost as if they'd never been on opposing sides at all. Reader is not at friendly and turns her cheek to him more times than he can count on one hand. He tries to make things right with her multiple times, but she's stubborn.

✨️ It isn't until him and Demetri show her the plans for the sparring deck that she's happy to have him around - it shows her real dedication to being one of the good guys in her eyes. So, while they're working together, they get to know each other a little better and have some good laughs.

✨️ Meanwhile, Demetri is on the side wondering if he should have made a move on Reader sooner, but ultimately fights with himself over it because he's not sure if she likes him. Plus, some old feelings have resurfaced since Eli's return...

✨️ Skip to the All Valley and Eli's swimming in a lonely pool of deflated confidence. Reader and Demetri are right beside him, cheering him on the whole time. They give up on him and when he needs a boost in confidence, Reader is right there to give it to him. She tells him he can do anything he sets his mind to because all his training, everything leading up to now, has made him his best self.

✨️ She kisses him as a sort of affirmation and a confession. Watching him for months has gotten her heart in a tangle of emotions and she knows she needs to let him know that she's in his corner and that she believes in him. It's the perfect little piece to get all that across if her words weren't enough. He grabs her waist and they're lip locked for a moment - a longer moment than they probably should have been. Daniel sees them and asks, "What the hell are you doing?" It was bad enough two of his best fighters were macking on the mat, but his daughter? Really?

✨️ Demetri is smiling, happy for them. He thinks he's been left to the wayside, but it's okay. Whatever flirting thing he had going on with Reader was fun while it lasted and his long standing feelings for Eli can be hidden away again. It's no big deal.

✨️ Except it doesn't quite play out that way. As time goes on, Eli and Reader start dating, but they always ask Demetri to come with them to the movies or to the arcade. It's fun, but Demetri feels awkward at first; he's obviously the third wheel. He wonders why they keep asking him to come out with them, but soon gets his answer when he's sitting beside Reader in a dark movie theater...

✨️ Her hand comes to rest on his thigh and he gets wide eyed. He plays of by watching the movie, but it gets hard to ignore when she keeps creeping it up higher and higher. He finally chances a glance over at her and sees Eli whispering in her ear. She isn't paying attention, giggling as her boyfriend nips at her skin and trying to keep her voice down. He notices Eli's hand is wandering her waist and groping her pudgy belly and tits. It has Demetri shifting in his seat and trying to hide his hard on with the bucket of popcorn. Then her hand starts rubbing the tent in his pants and he finally has some kind of understanding as to what's been going on: this has been their little way of courting him.

✨️ At the end of the movie, they all pile into the back of Eli's car for a steamy make out and over the clothes groping session. Reader is in between the two boys again, half on Eli's lap while they feel her up and pull her face side to side so they can shove their tongues down her throat. They don't immediately confront their feelings for each other, but finally do when Reader straddles Eli's lap and starts sucking hickeys onto his neck. Demetri takes it as his moment to dive in and kiss his long time best friend.

✨️ They never look back. In fact, Eli pulled out of that parking lot pretty fast to get to his place while Reader and Demetri made out in the backseat. By the time they got there, Demetri's hand was up her shirt and she was whining so pretty for them. Eli could have broken the key to his front door jamming it into the lock and they stumbled their way upstairs to his bedroom with a burning need to take their clothes off. The rest is history.

✨️ When they get back to training, the air around the three of them is different and it's very noticeable. It changes things for a bit until Daniel can accept the fact that his daughter is dating both Hawk and Demetri; he has no problem with that (we all know he's simultaneously in love with Amanda and Johnny), he's mostly asking "why those two?"

✨️ It's Daniel's fault training is a little awkward for a bit. While he's constantly keeping a watchful eye over his middle child (the unpredictable spontaneous one at that), Sam and Anthony are just shaking their heads at him. Like why does he have to be this way? Why can't he be normal for once?

✨️ All in all, they work great together. Eli loves planning dates, whether it involves staying in or going out; he also loves treating Reader and Demetri to nice things now and then - little gifts or simple trips out. Demetri thoroughly enjoys cuddling and he's always the big spoon no matter how much Eli wants to be. Demetri is always pulling one of the two of his partners onto his lap and wrapping his arms around them. He also loves just getting to spend time with them, usually away from karate because he needs a break sometimes.

✨️ The one thing they both agree is top tier are group make out sessions. Reader is always, always in between them and they get really touchy-feely. Sometimes she sits in one of their laps and they "fight" over who gets to hold her or kiss her, when it's their turn. It's all play, but sometimes Demetri gets really pouty and Reader and Eli both take turns kissing him. It's just makes them feel so close to each other and its fun.

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dark-frosted-heart · 2 years

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Keith Howell 2nd Birthday Story (Both POV)

Keith’s POV in green.

Usually, when MC thinks of February, the first thing that comes to mind is Valentine’s Day. That is, until now. From this year onward, February will be the month of her beloved’s birthday. For Alter!Keith, February is a month where he feels out of place.

Alter!Keith plans to go to the conservatory to seek MC out after he finishes receiving a progress report from Liam, his butler. He's noticed her carry a thick notebook with her at all hours of the day recently. Suddenly, he feels a painful hit in the back. He tells Liam that he shouldn't punch his master in the back. Liam just asks if he's been listening. Alter!Keith bluntly states that he was distracted by the sight of his lover. He threatens to dock Liam's pay if he hits him again. He pretends not to hear Liam's growl of frustration and continues to watch MC through the window. It was like her head was full of thoughts related to Keith's birthday. Liam's noticed as well. To the butler, Alter! doesn't seem very happy about it. Alter!Keith says he is though, he'd never get tired of seeing his lover think about him. Liam just sighs in response. Truthfully, Alter!Keith's not a fan of the fact that MC's head is filled with birthday related stuff, but it's thanks to her that Keith will be able to enjoy a celebration for once.

Liam asks if he's sure that he wants MC to attend the birthday party since there are still nobles that dislike the "good for nothing prince". Alter!Keith feels sorry for the other personality who still gets looked down on. He doesn't care what the other nobles think, he's not like that anymore. He'd cast away any sort of kindness if it meant protecting someone important. Alter!Keith tells Liam that he knows that there's a chance some noble will be dumb enough to do something to MC. That's why he's trusting the butler to pick those people with a history of misdeeds out from the list of invitees. He'd rather MC not have anything get in the way of adjusting to life in Jade, he thinks. Alter!Keith then adds that it's important for everyone in the castle to know how attached to MC Keith is. With how friendly MC is, it's best that no one gets the wrong idea.

There was something he needed to tell MC too.

MC sits in the conservatory with a pen and notebook as she thinks of what to make for Keith’s birthday cake, noting down things she heard from people at the castle. He’s not picky, but baked likes baked sweets the most. Alter!Keith doesn’t have particular preference either. Since Keith liked the galette they had in the past, she’s considering adding something with a crispy texture.

MC’s got the cake design down. Gifts on the other hand...There’s too many options. And if you were to go through her notebook, you’d find it filled with writing and drawings. All just for Keith’s birthday. She’s feeling a bit embarrassed at how excited she’s gotten over his birthday but hopes that both Keiths will be happy. After resolving to do her best, she looks up from her notebook and feels something on the back of her head, causing her to turn her gaze up. Alter!Keith has been standing behind the oblivious MC for several minutes now. Not even touching her hair had phased her. Should he increase the number of attendants when he's not around? He even changed up her hairstyle.

Alter!Keith asks MC if he surprised her. Yes she was. She asks how long he’s been here and he replies with since the moment she started the current page she was on in her notebook. While MC’s aware that Keith knows she’s planning something for his birthday, it’s embarrassing to know that he saw her notes. She tells him that he could’ve said something. He was waiting for her to notice him. MC says that giving such an adorable reason was unfair of him. But she loves how unfair he is doesn’t she, he asks. MC admits it, albeit a bit reluctantly. Her honesty’s so cute to him. She pouts and asks him to stop teasing her.

MC closes her notebook and asks how much he’s seen. Barely anything, he replies. He was busy playing with her hair. Which she didn’t even notice at all. MC looks forward when Alter! motions for her to with his gaze. He gathers up her hair and puts it up so that it won’t get in the way when she writes. Alter!Keith’s done her hair up like this often, but whenever MC asks him to teach her, he refuses as that’d take away his fun.

MC then apologizes for not noticing him earlier because she was so caught up with her planning. Since meeting MC, he's been getting these sudden sadistic urges. Alter!Keith’s not going to forgive her for that. She flinches when he nips at her neck but his hands on her shoulders prevent her from escaping the kisses and soft bites that follow, smirking as MC tries to suppress her moans. He could mark her up, but he'd rather not have others see her blushing face. MC tries to tell him that someone might come , but he tells her that no one will since he asked not to be disturbed. MC’s relieved at that. Alter!Keith’s done with his punishment now. He reminds her notice him next time.

Alter!Keith takes a seat across from her and just casually takes a bite out of a tart before asking if the pastries in front of them was practice in preparation for Keith’s birthday. A small, uncomfortable feeling tugs at the back of her mind as MC nods and tells him that she wanted to get more used to baking. Regardless, everyone would still notice that they were made by her. Alter!Keith says that her handiwork would be even more noticeable to a loved one. MC asks him not to say things like that. She’s trying so hard not to smile, to not make her feelings more obvious. Thinking about it, she also wants to be noticed and teased, because when Alter! teases her, he gets this cute and innocent smile on his face.

Alter!Keith brings up that MC and everyone else in the castle have been busy with birthday prep. There’s that uncomfortable tug again. She then wonders if it was actually okay for her to make a birthday cake. She had been told that the castle holds a birthday party every year and she was going to attend as his lover. MC asks Alter!Keith if he’d like to have cake another day since there’s going to be a birthday party. He says it’s fine having it the day of since his other self has such a sweet tooth. MC asks if it’s only Keith and wonders if she had really seen Alter!’s gaze waver a bit. Alter! tells her that he also likes whatever she makes. MC can’t help but feel like he’s hiding something.

Alter!Keith turns to the flowers in the conservatory while his index finger taps at the table. A habit MC had recently noticed about him. He tells her that he won’t be showing up on that day and MC wonders if that means she won’t be able to talk to him at all on his birthday. Alter!Keith says it’s not that much of a surprise. There are days when he doesn’t show up at all. But don’t worry, he’ll be watching her through his eyes. It’s true that MC doesn’t always see both Keiths in one day. But she had assumed that she’d be able to see both on his (their?) birthday, only for Alter! to tell her otherwise. MC asks why and Alter!Keith doesn’t give a response until after a moment of silence. While he’s glad that she’s working hard for the both of them, he doesn’t like to be celebrated. That...was an unexpected response. Her plans are falling apart. Alter!Keith might be having some regrets with what he just said, especially with how much his heart ached at seeing how stunned he left MC.

~~~

February "was" a month of guilt for Keith

MC’s maid presents her with a beautiful dress made by a renowned tailor in Jade. She’s nervous to even put an arm through a sleeve. Since she would be attending Keith’s birthday party as his lover, he had a dress made for her. At the same time, MC can’t help but think back to what happened in the conservatory. It was in that moment she realized that not everyone enjoys being celebrated. She doesn’t know why Alter!Keith doesn’t like being celebrated, but she can guess he told her to celebrate with Keith since it’s not his birthday. It wasn’t the day the other personality was born. But this isn’t going to stop MC from celebrating the both of them. Staring at herself in the mirror and how beautiful the green and white dress is, she feels as if she’s the one receiving gifts instead of the birthday boy. This doubles her desire to celebrate him.

The maid mentions that when she had told Keith that MC going to try on the dress, he said he’d take a break to come by and see. He might be on his way now. Later we find that MC had run out of her room to Keith, who really was on his way to her room. She hadn’t seen him in a while and in her excitement, trips on her dress. Luckily, Keith catches her in time. MC thanks him and after a beat, he takes her hand and spins her. Seeing how beautiful she looks in the dress, he wants to hide her from everyone else now. He just wants to keep staring at her. MC asks him to blink or else his eyes will get dry. Keith says she has a point. If his eyes hurt, he won’t be able to look at her. This man’s too good with his words.

Meanwhile, Keith is beating himself over speaking thoughtlessly again. He's going to end up saying something that'll disgust MC one day but he doesn't want her to hate him. But seeing her blush brings him a sense of relief. Wait, why the heck is he glad that she's blushing. He mentally apologizes over and over.

MC thanks Keith for the dress and tells him that she’s looking forward to being by his side at the party. Keith too. For some reason, he’s staring deeply into her, but his gaze returns to normal a moment later. He asks if she’d take a walk with him so MC goes to change. Keith then drapes a fluffy stole over her shoulders. For some reason, he chose a path people used often and while MC felt shy at the stares she received, she wouldn’t let go of his hand.

After a while, they arrive at the conservatory and Keith looks at her apologetically. He knows that Alter!Keith’s words have been bothering her and apologizes. MC tells him that she’s glad to have heard Alter!’s true feelings rather than him keeping them bottled up. Even if it meant getting her own feelings hurt, she thinks to herself. She’s about to ask Keith why Alter!Keith didn’t like celebrations but holds her tongue. It wouldn’t be right to ask him. As MC continues to think, something warm touches her cheek. Keith asks her to look at him and then kisses her. And then apologizes for surprising her. Well, MC didn’t dislike it.

Keith asks MC if he can tell her something that might trouble her more. With her okay, he tells her that while he feels happy, like Alter!Keith, he’s also not great with celebrations. The admission makes MC’s thoughts come to a halt. She wonders if the two would be happier if they didn’t celebrate their birthday. As she’s about to bury her head in her hands, Keith stops her. He apologizes for not expressing himself properly and asks her not to look so sad. What he meant was that “wasn’t” great with celebrations. He’ll be looking forward to his birthday from this year onward. He’s been looking forward to it since a month ago. MC asks what happened a month ago. He had seen the work she had put into for his birthday. Words of love continue to spill out until MC forces him to stop with her hands. She didn’t think she’d be the reason why he’d look forward to his birthday. MC comes to a realization and asks Keith to bend down a bit. He complies and she kisses him on the cheek as thanks. His words helped her make up her mind. Keith then whispers that he’d like a kiss on the lips too.

~~~

The day of Keith’s birthday arrives. The hall is filled with warmth and cheer that you’d forget that it was supposed to be cold in February. Every time their eyes met, Keith’s happy smile would warm MC’s heart. She wants him to be happy even from now on. And so...after the party, MC brings a wagon of presents to Keith’s room. She finds Alter!Keith and sits next to him, asking if something happened to Keith. Keith had forced Alter! out. At least now she won’t have to ask to talk to Alter!Keith. Though she’s aware that they can switch at will now, she’s hesitant to ask.

The two apologize at the same time and Alter!Keith asks MC what she has to apologize for. She’s apologizing for wanting to celebrate with him even though he dislikes it. He knew that though; she’s easy to read after all. Alter!Keith on the other hand is apologizing for troubling her. He didn’t think his words would bother her that much. He doesn’t know what it’s like to celebrate since he’s never had anyone to celebrate with until now. But since meeting MC, he’s gotten a better understanding. He’s tapping his finger again, a habit of his when he doesn’t know what to say.

MC asks why he doesn’t like to be celebrated. He was half lying when he said he didn’t like celebrations. He’d thought that MC would just leave it at that. The day Keith was born is not the same day that he was. He was born from an unfortunate accident. Even if his birth kept Keith alive, celebrating would also be like celebrating the incident.

He remembers feeling cold, the feeling of rain pelting his body nauseating. The sight before him made him want to vomit, but he endured it. He immediately knew why he was born and as he endured it, the first thing he did was laugh. In that moment, he felt a bit of relief. And that's when he learned that pleasure could help himself relax. It's why he likes lively places. But now, he likes being by MC's side the best.

For MC, in hindsight, the answer was obvious and now she feels terrible for not considering Alter!Keith’s feelings because she was so focused on celebrating. Her eyes start to burn and as her vision blurs with tears, she feels a gentle kiss on the cheek. This was why Alter!Keith didn’t tell her in the first place, because he knew she would cry. While he does like seeing her cry, he doesn't like it when it's because of pain.

He strokes her cheek before rubbing her back. The warmth and his clumsy movements make her cry even more. MC apologizes, for not realizing and for being stubborn. Even if Alter!Keith was born from misfortune, she still wants to celebrate the birth of a loved one, so she hopes he will accept. SIlence fills the room before it’s broken by a small laugh. He's not even sure how to react. Alter!Keith says MC’s honest, direct, and sucks at lying. And an earnest girl who can’t stop worrying once she starts. If she gets this worried over a birthday, she’s going to be in trouble in the future.

Alter!Keith points at the presents as if to say he will be accepting his own present now. MC hands him a plate of cake. Lifting the cloche with a ribbon tied to it reveals a cake half in fresh cream, half in chocolate cream. Alter!Keith compliments her handiwork and then opens his mouth. MC feeds him the cake. Having his first birthday cake be made by his lover is pretty nice. He then asks if MC should be saying something. He’s decided that today will be his birthday, which makes her so happy. A bit nervous because this is another first for him, she takes a few calming breaths before wishing him a happy birthday.

Alter!Keith looks at MC with an unreadable expression before turning away. She then finds herself seated between his legs. Her present to him isn’t just the cake, is it? MC points to the wagon, but those aren’t the presents he wants at the moment. There’s something he wants in particular and it’s something that can’t be found in the shops. What he wants is in his arms right now. MC’s at a loss of words when Keith undoes the ribbon on the cloche. He blindfolds her. MC agrees to give herself as his present but asks why the blindfold. Alter!Keith says presents should be wrapped in ribbon, and doing it this way is more interesting. In reality, he doesn't want her to see him during his moment of weakness.

Alter!Keith holds MC tight in his arms, calling her cuddly because she’s so small and soft. It makes him want to bully her. The feeling of his breath on her skin makes her shiver, heart pounding because she can’t see. Alter!Keith says it’s more fun when you can’t tell what the other’s going to do. For MC, she’s more nervous. He’ll hold her hand then since she always looks so happy when he does. A kiss on her cheek, a kiss on her neck. MC’s tingling with anticipation for where he’ll kiss next. Alter!Keith asks MC to wish him a happy birthday one more time and she does so. One more time. She’s confused, but says it again. She feels a vibration against her as he laughs.

No matter how many times Alter!Keith hears it, he’s not used to being congratulated on his birth. It’s not a bad feeling though. He asks her to keep celebrating and make him feel good one day.

The kiss he gives her isn't like his usual kisses. It's slow and gentle, as if he's taking his time. He says her name softly and in that moment, MC's glad she can't see because whatever expression Alter!Keith currently has on his face would surely make her cry. She'll continue to celebrate Alter!Keith, who sees himself as someone born from misfortune, in the years to come. She tightens her grip as a promise and he responds back.

Alter!Keith was born to protect, but now he's being saved by MC again. At the moment, he's unable to suppress the heat rising within him. Following his instincts and seeking MC out, feelings of pain and guilt fade away. Now he'll be looking forward to Feburary.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri summary #Keith howell #ikepri keith

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theforgottenmcrmy · 2 years

Text

Vipers~ Part 3/3 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall part 15 of the series “Growing Strong”. The masterlist for the series, and vipers parts 1 and 2, can be found on the pinned post on my profile. Tumblr is being mean and not letting me link it here. :( ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of death of previous characters, GOT typical stigmatized bastardy, hypocrisy, Larys Strong is a warning in and of himself, GOT typical violent acts and blood, self-defense killing

Summary: If this was the end, at least you were being treated to a lovely view.

A/N: PLEASE read the warnings, this chapter gets a bit heavy, folks. Thank you so much for bearing with me. This chapter is a hefty one, but there’s a lot that goes down, so I hope you don’t mind too much. As always, thank you so much for reading and for your support.🖤🖤🖤

PS, snow prevented me from going to work today, so instead, I wrote a little winterish fluffy one shot with Harwin and Ms. Tyrell that I’m going to post on 12/25. Until then, I hope you have happy holidays (if you celebrate), and if not, I just hope you have a nice couple of next few days!🖤

Ser Vaemond’s lifeless eyes haunted you every time you closed your own.

The troubling image stayed with you throughout the day and night. You could not bring yourself to eat; nothing was remotely appealing. When you tried to sleep, all you could see was the flash of Dark Sister catching the sun and silver braided locks, rolling and rolling.

This, this is what Harwin tried desperately to warn you of. There was no way Harwin could have foreseen Vaemond Velaryon losing his head right before your eyes, but he knew Daemon. Harwin had come to know a great deal about him while the Rogue Prince served as the Commander of the City Watch, and Harwin was under his command. Prince Daemon was impulsive and violent, and it was no surprise that such traits had a tendency to bring out unspeakable acts from a person. Harwin alluded to but had ultimately spared you many of the details regarding the Rogue Prince’s various misdeeds, many of which he had witnessed first hand all those years ago.

Part of you wished Harwin had not withheld the information. You just might have listened to him when he pleaded for you to not go to the Red Keep alone.

Even the next day, when you found yourself surrounded by Princess Rhaenyra and the youngest of her children in her chambers, as you had already several times during your short stay, you could not take the same comfort from it. It only made the yearning to be reunited with Harwin and your own family that much stronger.

At least you would not have to wait too long.

“... Lady Y/N?”

You blinked, realizing Prince Joffrey was staring up at you inquisitively. “Forgive me, My Prince. Where were we?”

The young prince hesitated for a moment, but eventually resumed his reading. Prince Joffrey had recently begun his tutelage under the maesters in Dragonstone, and was eager for any opportunity to demonstrate his reading and discuss other topics he was learning about with anyone who would pay him mind. You found Prince Joffrey’s enthusiasm as he recounted House Targaryen’s origins in Old Valeryia endearing, but it wasn’t enough to entirely lift your spirits.

Princess Rhaenyra noticed this as well. She exchanged a silent word with her husband, who rose to his feet from his chair near the fireplace. With Prince Viserys occupying one of his arms, Prince Daemon offered his free hand to Prince Joffrey.

“Come, Joffrey. Perhaps your sisters would like to hear the tale next?”

Prince Joffrey nodded obediently, closed his book, and took the hand his stepfather offered him. As Prince Daemon and the younger princes made to leave, Princess Rhaenyra handed Prince Aegon over to his nursemaid, who followed suit. In just a few moments, her chambers were completely empty.

Save the two of you.

The door clicked shut.

“Y/N.”

Though you were reluctant to do so, you forced yourself to meet her concerned look.

“Come sit with me?”

You crossed the room slowly and lowered yourself onto the sofa beside her, but sat very lightly.

“You have been distracted all day,” Princess Rhaenyra observed. “You may have tried to disguise it, but I do not think you have changed so much in the past seven years that I would not be able to tell something is amiss. I know you, and I can tell that something troubles you. What is on your mind?”

“Do you regret it?”

Princess Rhaenyra was taken aback. “Regret what, my friend?”

“Regret it?” you implored. “Do you regret that the actions you’ve taken led to Ser Vaemond’s death? Because although those deeds were not mine, I have steadfastly supported you all these years. And I do not feel beyond reproach for what happened to him.”

Ser Vaemond may have acted unsavory and publicly shamed Princess Rhaenyra and her children, but his anger was rooted from truth, not treason. His actions may have been misguided, but the fuel that drove him to act was based in reality, not fiction.

And he had lost his head for it.

Princess Rhaenyra looked at you calculatingly. Thankfully, she did not look offended by your questions, only curious, as if trying to determine some deeper meaning behind them.

“If you are asking me if I feel guilty about Ser Vaemond’s death, of course I do,” she avowed. “For though it was not I that held the sword, my actions placed him in the path of husband’s blade. I can and will acknowledge that.”

“... But?”

“If you are asking if I regret my companionship with Ser Royce, my answer is no.”

You let out the breath you weren’t aware you’d been holding.

Princess Rhaenyra continued on, and as she did, you clung on to every one of her words.

“I cannot regret it, for I had no other choice. That was my task, as my father’s heir- to strengthen my claim, and ensure my succession. Besides what these vipers whisper about it, I truly loved my husband. But Laenor could not give me what I needed. I needed heirs.”

“And so you got them.”

“And so I did.”

You had finally begun to understand the deeper motivations behind Princess Rhaenyra’s dangerous affair with the late son of the Lord of Storm’s End. Yes, perhaps passion had played a part in it. Princess Rhaenyra was a passionate woman. But she spoke of the matter with great conviction, and there was no doubting that Princess Rhaenyra viewed the affair of securing her three eldest heirs with Ser Royce to be just as much duty as it might have been for pleasure.

She had married Ser Laenor for duty, but her hopes for the union had fallen to the wayside. Perhaps that was why she indulged herself to marry the true and long withstanding object of her desire after his passing.

Princess Rhaenyra defended, “Ser Vaemond’s death was unfortunate, but avoidable. I will bear harsh criticisms from those who falsely deem themselves to be my superiors, as I have had to for years. But Ser Vaemond insulted my children and threatened their very futures. Having had a parent who, for all their good intentions, could not or chose not to defend me as often as I would have liked, I promised myself long ago that I would be different to my own. Ser Vaemond was destined to meet this end, for as determined as he was to usurp my son’s inheritance, I am just as determined to staunchly defend it. I would do anything to protect my children.”

Queen Alicent’s own words from your conversation the week prior echoed in your mind.

…But I would do anything to protect my children and grandchildren…

A queen, a princess, and a lady. All three of you had only ever wanted to protect your own. But the lengths at which you would go to secure their safety, and the ulterior motives of those around you, doomed you all to be constantly be at odds.

“If I had to do it all again, knowing what I know now, I still would,” Princess Rhaenyra mused after a comfortable silence. “Although, there is one regret I still have- and one thing I would change.”

“And what is that, Your Grace?”

“The very moment someone dared to breathe a foul word about your husband, I should have had my father cut out their tongue at once.”

“You would run out of daggers before you ran out of tongues, Your Grace.”

“Mayhaps. But if there was anything that would have spared you and Harwin from being associated with the consequences of my actions, it would have been done.”

She had said something very similar to you years ago. Just as you had not then, you did not doubt the sincerity of Princess Rhaenyra’s words now, only whether she would be in a position to make good on her promise. Years of vicious rumors attempting to taint the image of you and your husband did not simply erase themselves from people’s minds. Truthfully, what could Princess Rhaenyra do to repay you for all you and your family had endured the years you spent by her side?

Once more, Queen Alicent's ominous words of warning crept over you.

Your loyalty to your husband and Princess Rhaenyra is admirable… I can only hope that your former mistress will never use it against you.

Princess Rhaenyra reached out and took your hands in her own, distracting you from your less than pleasant thoughts. “I appreciate you coming here to show me your support. Though the means were not desirable, I cannot find much fault with how it ended.”

Prince Lucerys had been reconfirmed as Lord Corlys’s heir to Driftmark. Prince Daemon had bought them all more time to strengthen their claims.

“But we both know the capital is not the same one that we once knew. And for now, I feel we are both better served taking our leave of it. After we dine with the King this evening, my family will return to Dragonstone. I may be a princess, but as your friend, I advise you to depart as well.”

“I sent a raven to Harwin last night,” you informed her. The thought of seeing your husband and children in just a few short days brought a faint smile to your lips. After attending a family dinner of your own that evening, you and the escort were due to leave on the morrow to head to Duskendale. And, for many reasons, you were counting the passing hours.

“Let us hope that the next time we meet, we shall both be in better spirits.”

A wonderful thought. And hopefully, an attainable one. The state of things was already quite bleak. You did not believe it possible for any dark turns to linger on the road ahead.

Not yet, at least.

Larys could tell you were tired, though not particularly nervous as you entered into his chambers later that evening. That was perfectly suitable- the more relaxed you were, the more likely your tongue would loosen as well.

And the more fervently Larys could reassure his Queen that you were not knowledgeable of his connection to the fire at Harrenhal, the better.

You had taken care to change into a gown different from the one he’d spotted you wearing in the gardens earlier that afternoon. The gown you wore now was more suitable evening attire, and was remarkably flattering on you. Every now and then, the small glimmer from the fire and nearby candles caught your eyes in a twinkle.

Larys supposed, in the right light and angle, he could see what his elder brother saw in you. But there was another beauty from the Reach who had long since caught Larys’s eye, one that was much more preferred.

After exchanging small pleasantries, Larys offered to pour you a cup of wine. To his delight, you accepted unwittingly. But when it came to the main course, you completely paled at the sight of the cooked venison.

“Forgive me,” you muttered, politely raising a hand to decline his offer to cut you off a piece. “I have not had much of an appetite as of late. The events of yesterday have left me feeling rather queasy.”

To each their own. Larys cut off a healthy serving and skillfully placed it onto his own plate. “Ah, yes. A gruesome scene, was it not?”

“You do not seem particularly surprised. Am I to believe sudden and unannounced beheadings happen often at the foot of the Iron Throne, Good Brother?”

Larys mentalled chided himself. Reign it in. “No, they do not. But, in addition to the Master of Whisperers, I was also most recently appointed to the position of the Lord Confessor, My Lady.”

“My apologies- it briefly slipped my mind that you've served the realm as a confessor for quite some time.”

You were not the first to have forgotten about Larys. But perhaps you would be one of the last. “Yes, My Lady. I’ve been a confessor since before you even came to Court.”

“Then it is only natural for you to have seen some… things, I expect?”

This was all hardly appropriate dinner conversation, but if the discussion kept you talking, Larys could live with it. “I will concede that I have seen men in rather… unfortunate, circumstances.”

You said nothing, but instead grabbed a handful of grapes. Larys doubted you’d work up the nerve to even eat them.

“But enough talk about all of that,” he redirected, giving you the finest smile he possessed. “How are the children?”

At the mere mention of your and Harwin’s spawn, your face lit up.

For the next several minutes, Larys listened to you prattle on about his nephews and niece.

… Derrick favors Harwin greatly in looks, but luckily, his mind is like that of your father’s… A brawny boy with an intellect. Perhaps the lad was lucky to inherit more brains than his father, if he was still burdened with Harwin’s looks. And yes, Larys could concede that his father, Lord Lyonel Strong, had been an intelligent man. But he had lacked the “wisdom” to see the wolf in sheep’s clothing among his own kin, hadn’t he?

… Selwin favors my own brother so greatly, some days I feel as though I have seen a ghost. But he’s kind to everyone, unless he is provoked… A boy who had inherited Harwin’s notoriously quick to ignite temper. That was most unfortunate. And though the boy looked like your late brother, Larys couldn’t help but wonder if he was as meddling as Lord Derron had been. Look at what your brother’s curiosity had cost him, after all.

Was this really who Queen Alicent was worried about becoming privy to his connection to the fire at Harrenhal? A mother who, like many others, placed far too much importance in her own children? Larys was tempted to believe he could personally set Harrenhal ablaze before your very eyes, but if your own children were nearby, you’d be far too distracted to pay him any mind.

Queen Alicent had given you far too much credit.

“... And then there’s Luciya. She doesn’t seem to favor any one side of the family in particular. But she’s very sweet. I would love for her to finally meet her uncle, Good Brother. Perhaps you might be willing to ride out and meet us on our way back through? I am sure you would be just as taken with her as we are.”

Larys had never had any inclination to be nurturing, and he had never felt anything but complete apathy for Derrik and Selwin, let alone for any children at all. He doubted your statement very much. It was only after reminding himself that the role he was playing was that of a caring Good Brother and uncle did he force himself to smile.

“Perhaps I shall. Pray tell, where are you going next?”

“Since you already knew of my intent to visit King’s Landing without either Hariwn or myself informing you of it, I assumed you knew the extent of all our travel plans.”

Larys smiled again. But this time, it felt even more strained. “I know a great deal of what goes on in the realm, Good Sister. But not even I am omnipotent.”

You laughed. “I only jest with you, Lord Larys. We left the Reach to visit with Princess Rhaenyra and her family in Dragonstone.”

This caught Larys by surprise. “Dragonstone? … After everything?”

“Why should we not? We were extended an invitation. Forgive me, Good Brother, but I did not believe my closeness with Princess Rhaenyra was a secret.”

“Neither was my brother’s.”

Larys knew the slip was a possibly grave one when you abruptly dropped the grape you had been contemplating eating back onto your plate. Your own smile fell, and you looked at Larys across the table with a worryingly blank expression.

“Larys… You don’t truly believe that your brother is the sire of the eldest princes, do you?”

Larys knew how troubled their oafish father was by the possibility. It was made apparent to him that Lord Lyonel believed that intimacy existed between Harwin and Princess Rhaenyra. But what interested him far more was how vehemently you insisted the opposite. Were you truly that desperate to refuse to acknowledge what many others already had about your husband? … Or was there some other truth that you knew that gave you cause not to abandon your position on the matter?

“It is my turn to apologize, My Lady. ‘Twas a poor taste of comment. Of course, I would hope that Harwin is not the father of the Princess’s eldest sons. Not only would that be an irreparable political scandal, but that would taint the very image I have of him.”

The tension in your jaw slackened, but you remained silent, urging Larys to continue.

“I know how devoted my brother is to you, Good Sister, and I find it hard to believe such foul rumors about the princes’ parentage can be given any true merit. However, the question does remain of why the princes take so little after Ser Laenor… A genuine curiosity, isn’t it?”

Unfortunately for Larys, you did not take the bait. “‘Tis no curiosity at all, My Lord. The princes clearly take after their grandmother’s Baratheon heritage.”

Pft. Larys had to take a drink from his goblet to stifle the laugh that threatened his already delicate facade. “But of course, Good Sister. If only others at Court saw it as plainly as you did, yesterday's festivities might have been avoidable after all.”

You took a sip from your own goblet, still regarding him carefully.

“Mayhaps we can turn to some lighter conversation?” Larys proposed, hoping to turn the tide. “How is my brother?”

Quite similar to when Larys had mentioned your children, your expression brightened at once. “Well, to begin, he wishes you would write to him more often, My Lord.”

You were about as subtle as a dragon, Larys decided.

“But beyond that, Harwin is well. Lord Dannis is an excellent steward, and Harwin is able to carry out most of his duties as Lord of Harrenhal without having to leave the Reach.”

“Has he no desire to return to our family’s home?”

“Do you?”

Larys had no form of emotional attachment to the decrepit excuse of a keep that was Harrenal. But there were very, very few things he deemed worthwhile to complicate with emotions. And Harwin was little else than an emotionally driven man. “He is the Lord of Harrenhal, My Lady. Surely my brother does not intend to keep himself from returning to its halls forever?”

“I am certain Harwin will return to Harrenhal at some point or another, Good Brother… But that will only be when he is ready to do so. If he does not wish to return to your family’s home, I will not be the one that forces him to.”

Perhaps you had even less conviction than his brother, if that were even possible.

“... The things we saw when we were last there were awful, My Lord. None of my family wishes to tempt the ill memories of that night to return to our minds.”

You had opened the door. Larys would capitalize on it.

The time had finally come for him to delve into the details and discover what all was learned from the fire at Harrenhal, and to determine whether you and Harwin would be a threat to everything Larys had strove to accomplish in the name of his beloved Queen.

Perhaps you knew little to nothing. Perhaps you knew more than you’d let on so far. Regardless, your fate would be sealed.

Larys had already committed all sorts of atrocities in the name of Queen Alicent. Should it be deemed necessary, what was one more?

“I understand my brother was quite disturbed after the fire.”

You raised an eyebrow at Larys’s suggestion. “Would you not be? Harwin fought through the flames to try and save your father, only to fail.” You nearly shuddered to think what Harwin had overheard, had he reached Lord Lyonel’s chambers before the man had passed.

“He wrote to me often, you know.”

“Harwin believed that if there was anyone who could discover a connection between the fire and someone who roamed these halls, it would be you, Lord Larys.”

“Alas, my efforts were fruitless,” Larys admitted gloomily. “... But, should you feel so inclined, I was wondering if you might answer some questions I have?”

You frowned slightly. “Certainly Harwin already provided you with all the information you could have possibly needed to perform your due diligence?”

“Aye, he did. But, for my own sake, and for my own thirst for justice in my father’s name, would you humor me?”

Larys’s sudden turn of questioning was rather suspicious. From what you understood, Harwin’s letters pleading with Larys to investigate the fire and any potential connections to those within the Red Keep had gone relatively ignored. Larys had been all too quick to deem the affair an accident, and cited the recent construction projects within Harrenhal as possible sources of origin. It begged the question of why your Good Brother was showing any sort of interest in the fire now.

But who were you to deny his inquiries?

“If I have the answers you seek, consider them yours.”

“Harwin mentioned Lord Dannis showed you to a suspicious man the morning after the fire,” Larys recalled before taking another bite of venison.

“Yes.” You grimaced at the memory. “‘Twas no use in questioning him- he was short of a tongue, I’m afraid.”

Larys’s neutral expression was still, and unchanging. “Did he bear any sort of emblem, or other identifying mark?”

“... Like what, My Lord?”

“Well, from my own experience dealing with similar filth, those who devise monstrous deeds such as a plot to kill the Hand of the King and his heirs usually tend to want to leave their own mark upon it. Perhaps it is a bit foolish, but some of the most twisted deviants care little for whether they are likely to be caught, or they simply believe they will not be. If there was any sort of emblem, sigil, or any other kind of heraldry, even something small and insignificant, that this strange, tongue-less man wore or bore, it could be an indication of whom he served.”

You did not dare to breathe. “I thought you believed the fire at Harrenhal to be an accident, My Lord. Have you reconsidered your stance?”

“Regrettably, I have not. I still full-heartedly believe the tragedy was just that- a tragedy. Unavoidable, but the fault of no one. Still, I consider myself to be a particularly thorough man, and I like to consider all possibilities, regardless of how improbable they may seem.”

“... It would be most convenient if the man had had something to indicate his master, or mistress, as you have described. Unfortunately, he did not.”

That had been your agreement.

Outside of you, Harwin, and Lord Dannis, not a single soul from Harrenhal to King’s Landing to the Reach knew of the firefly pin that had been found on the suspicious man taken captive the night of the fire. And it would remain that way. There was some hope, however small it was, that if such an individual who used that sigil would be so bold as to carry out another plot against you, you would be able to link the two events together, and hopefully, the orchestrator would be revealed.

Though Larys was Harwin’s family, and most likely could be trusted, the less who knew about the firefly pin, the better.

Larys looked thoroughly surprised by your answer. “Truly? … None at all?”

“None at all.” You took another drink of wine from your goblet.

Larys mimicked your action. “How most peculiar… Well, perhaps this suspicious man was not so suspicious, after all. Or at least, did not have a hand in the tragedy. Since he bore no indication of whom he may or may not have been serving, he could have merely been stealing food from the kitchens, for all we know.”

You sincerely doubted that, but did not disagree with your Good Brother’s helpful and convenient proposal.

…

For the rest of the dinner, Larys seemed to be in a notably pleasant mood. You suspected, despite what Larys may have told Harwin, he might have had his own doubts about the origins of the fire at Harrenhal.

You were happy you could put your Good Brother at ease, even if your words were not entirely honest. Harwin was already burdened with the truth that someone had likely set out to kill his father, himself, and your entire family. It was senseless to burden Larys with the information as well, especially since you had no viable suspect to show for it.

The rest of the dinner was spent in frivolous but calm conversation. It was a bit boring for your taste, but you would happily take an evening without excitement after witnessing the horror that was Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s beheading the prior afternoon.

As Larys went to pour you another cup of wine, you placed your hand over the top of your goblet to stop him. “I really should not. If I drink too much more, I fear I will not be able to stay atop of my horse on the morrow.”

Larys did not laugh at your joke. Instead, he looked intrigued. “You are leaving so soon?”

You nodded. “I wrote to Harwin last night. With any luck, my escort and I will make it to Duskendale in just a few days.”

“How most wise,” your Good Brother noted, pouring another cup of whine for himself. “With all sorts of brigands and bandits preying upon travelers these days, it was a good idea to inform my brother of when you expect you.”

The thoughts of being ambushed along the way left you feeling worried. “Has there been a particular problem with miscreants of that nature in the Crownlands, My Lord?”

“No more than the usual, though they always pose a threat, My Lady.” When you said nothing, Larys added, “But I have seen your guards, particularly Ser Alren. I would venture you are in safe hands, especially if my brother deemed them capable of keeping you so.”

You smiled, thankful for his reassurance. Then, you exhaled. “This was a lovely dinner, Good Brother. It was nice to see you after all these years. Perhaps you might extend your brother the same courtesy in the near future?”

Larys smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “If the gods are kind, perhaps I shall.”

You scooted your chair back from the table. Larys made to stand as well, but you waved him off. As you moved your feet beneath you to rise from your seat, one of them inadvertently nudged Larys’s cane, which he had propped up against his side of the table. The cane tipped over and hit the floor, rolling a few feet away before coming to a slow stop.

You cursed under your breath. “My apologies, My Lord. Perhaps I drank a bit too much wine after all.”

Larys tried to rise once again. “Do not trouble yourself over it. I shall retrieve it.”

“No, no,” you insisted quickly, already walking over to where the cane had landed. “‘Tis no trouble at all.” You bent down and swiped the cane up into your free hand. As you did, you noticed two things.

The first was the smoothness of the finished wood beneath your fingers, which was nothing out of the ordinary.

The second was the rather peculiar jewel and metalwork ingrained in the pommel of the cane. You only glanced at it at first, but then it suddenly captured your complete focus. The gold metalwork was fashioned into a simple but clearly discernible depiction of an eerily familiar insect. Affixed to the bottom of the bug was a just as familiar yellow gem.

Once you realized you had seen this same design not once, but twice before, you shocked yourself when you were able to muffle your gasp.

First, you had seen it the very day you left King’s Landing, almost seven years ago. It had caught the rising sun in the courtyard as your carriage departed.

Second, you had seen it pinned to the cloak of the man who lingered suspiciously on the grounds the night of the fire at Harrenhal. As the rising sun bathed the simmering and smoking remains of the keep, it had also caught the yellow gem.

And third, illuminated by the fireplace before you, it was right here and now, before your own eyes. In your very own hands.

Ingrained in the pommel of your Good Brother’s cane.

A firefly.

“My Lady, are you alright?”

You flinched at Larys’s question, but went with the movement rather than against it. Pushing yourself forward, you swallowed thickly, thankful your head was turned away from his direction, if only for a moment. You let out a silent breath, and turned back to face him. Keeping your voice steady and even, you supplied simply, “Yes… ‘Twas only inspecting it for damage, My Lord.”

You took slow steps back to the table and handed the cane back over to Larys, who took it from you with an appreciative smile.

“I wouldn’t concern yourself with damaging it, Good Sister,” he dismissed politely. “It’s a sturdy thing, just like me.”

You forced yourself to offer him a single laugh in response.

Before Larys could say anything further, you filled the brief silence with words of your own. “Forgive me, Lord Larys, but I am suddenly feeling ill. Since we are due to leave early tomorrow morning, would you be too offended if I retired?”

Larys looked a bit confused, but not suspicious. Not yet. After a moment, he shook his head. “Of course not, My Lady. Rest well.”

With one last and extremely strained smile, you headed over towards the chamber doors.

Behind you, Larys called, “And safe travels, Good Sister.”

…

……

………

……

…

It had been a long day in the Red Keep.

But for Lord Larys Strong, Master of Whisperers, the day had only just begun.

“Let go of me!... This isn’t right!”

Lord Caswell’s cries as he struggled against the guards were slowly silenced the further away he was dragged.

“You did well, Lord Larys.”

Larys looked over at Lord Otto Hightower carefully. He sought no praise from the man before him. The only one Larys ever allowed himself to desire such a futile thing from the man’s daughter. But it was of little consequence to Larys for him placate the Lord Hand’s ego by feigning humbleness and appreciation.

“Only my duty, my Lord Hand.”

Larys was content to leave on that note. Queen Alicent must have been worried sick, being forced to wait for hours until someone brought word of the continuing search for Prince Aegon. Now that Larys had rooted out all the possible turncoats locked within the Red Keep and handed them over to be properly dealt with, he felt he would be of better use offering himself to be at Queen Alicent’s disposal, should she need him at all.

For anything.

“You’ve spent many hours with the Queen as of late.”

There was an unspoken question in the Lord Hand’s seemingly innocent statement.

Larys paused. He tapped the bottom of his cane thoughtfully. Out of all the many interesting developments that had taken place in the Red Keep that morning, the one before him now seemed to be the most intriguing of them all. Lord Otto Hightower had never publicly insulted him, but Larys had suspected him guilty of whispering foul things about him in his Queen’s ear when he was not present. The fool. Did her father not know how indebted Queen Alicent was to her most dedicated servant? The only reason Lord Otto was before him and not his own father, Lord Lyonel, was by Larys’s designs. And now, the leach wanted something from him?

Perhaps Larys ought to make him pay for his hubris. No telling what might come of it, but since he had no desire to truly please the Lord Hand, it could only result in things Larys could use for his own advantageous purposes.

“There’s no reason those hours could not, in the end, benefit you.”

The way Lord Otto looked at him then, in the very moment he believed Larys was willing to negotiate some sort of arrangement, Larys was convinced he had chosen the wrong path in life. Had he not been born with his physical deformity, nor the second son of a lord, he would have made a killing as an actor. He was certain of it. How many people could say that they out-slithered the viper?

“I am relieved to hear that you are dedicated to the realm as a whole, Lord Larys, and not just to my daughter.”

“One would be foolish to bite the hand that feeds it, no?”

“Quite,” Lord Otto agreed with a smug smile. “... There is another matter that I wished to discuss with you, and since I can see you are perfectly capable of seeing the bigger picture in all of this mess, I hope you will not misunderstand the reason for which I make my request.”

“Name it, Lord Hand.”

“Lady Y/N Tyrell.”

Larys regarded Lord Otto with great caution, suddenly feeling the incredibly strong urge to tread lightly. “My Good Sister? … She left the Red Keep a few days ago now, Lord Hand. Her party rides for Duskendale as we speak.”

Did Larys have some regrets about simply letting you leave? Of course. But what choice did he have? You had proven you posed no threat to him, that you knew nothing of his involvement in the fire at Harrenhal. And beyond that, you had already written to Harwin, who knew exactly when to expect your arrival. Delaying that would have only roused unnecessary suspicion from his brother.

“Yes, she did,” Lord Otto conceded. “… But she must never reach her destination.”

Larys did not bother to hide his surprise. His initial inclination was to use this fragile but blossoming alliance with Lord Otto to further Queen Alicent’s cause, by providing her with the hidden knowledge of her father’s actions. But if Larys could benefit personally by aligning his own desires with that of the Lord Hand’s…

“You are no fool, Lord Larys. Two of the most powerful houses in the Reach are the Hightowers and the Tyrells. One house can be counted on to support the one, true king. The other can not. Should this come to war, the Reach will be divided. If Lady Y/N reaches Duskendale, she and your brother will set sail for Dragonstone shortly after, and submit themselves to the usurper's ranks. I fear your brother may already be a lost cause, but there is no reason why Princess Rhaenyra should have the Wardeness of the South and Lord of Harrenhal in her pocket.”

Larys knew of the affluent resources at his Good Sister’s disposal. Gold. Lots of it. Men. Lots of those, too. The Lord Hand had a point- what a pity it would be if such a valuable asset should fall into the wrong hands. “She must not reach her destination then, My Lord Hand.”

Lord Otto looked shocked by Larys’s swift decision. “Lady Y/N is your Good Sister, Lord Larys. Your brother’s wife.”

“Traitors to the crown are no blood of mine.”

Lord Otto’s look of shock shifted into one of understanding, appreciation, even. “I am impressed; you truly are a man of reason, Lord Larys… Go, then. Ensure Lady Y/N befalls some troubles on the road. Whatever men you need to fulfill this task, consider them yours.”

“I have men under my employ already, Lord Hand, but you humble me with your offer.”

“Use whoever you wish, then. Just see to it that it gets done.”

Larys nodded his head respectfully. As he turned to leave once again, the gears already began to churn in his mind. The party is already a few days ahead, so some fast riders would be most prudent... A letter to help frame the altercation as an accident.... and perhaps another as a safeguard-

“And, Lord Larys?”

Larys looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”

“Do take care that this matter is taken care of quickly and cleanly. No mistakes can be afforded.”

“Of course, Lord Hand.”

Larys had already disposed of another golden rose once before. But by the time Lord Derron had caught on to his doings, it was far too late- the letter of warning Lord Derron addressed to his dear younger sister never made it into your hands. Instead, it was locked away in Larys’s chambers, where it would remain.

It had been a close call, but the disposal of this second golden rose would not be. Larys would make certain of that.

Lord Otto added one last remark. “And I think we can both understand that the Queen need not be burdened with this unpleasant business.”

For once, Larys was inclined to agree with the Lord Hand. Queen Alicent had shown him an unbecoming weakness she still harbored within herself; it was foolish to think your allegiance from Princess Rhaenyra could ever be swayed.

But Larys was not weak, he was a Strong. And he would do what needed to be done.

…

……

……….

……

…

The dagger at the side of your waist felt awfully heavy.

With each step your horse took, the small metal blade felt as though it was pulling you further and further down to the muddy ground below. If it got to be heavy enough, you might just allow yourself to fall with it.

The party was making terrible time. What should have only been a few days of traveling had grown into upwards of a week. Heavy rains in the area made the main road sloppy, and slowed the horses down greatly. Someone had proposed taking less-traveled paths off the main road, since the cover of trees would have redirected some of the falling rains from the grounds below the branches. But that was quickly set aside out of the concern of safety.

If Harwin hadn’t already grown worried about the extended traveling time, he certainly would have by now.

Harwin.

Gods, the one person you wanted to see more than anyone else, and yet, the very thought of being reunited with Harwin completely terrified you. How in the Seven Hells were you to explain not only that you had discovered who had plotted the fire at Harrenhal, but that it was none other than his beloved brother?

You had little doubt that Harwin would have extreme difficulty believing you at first… if at all. There could not be enough importance placed on determining the best phrasing and manner by which you revealed the discovery to him. But for the life of you, despite hours you spent on the road, you could not bring yourself to think of the matter any more than what your racing thoughts forced you to.

“We should stop up here at the turn, My Lady.”

You looked over at Ser Alren, who was riding his own horse beside yours. A few men in front and a few more bringing up the rear comprised all of the traveling party.

“Again?” You bit back the frustrated sigh that threatened to spill past your lips. “We are losing daylight, and at this pace, we’ve at least another two hours until the next inn.”

At any moment, realization could strike Larys. Your Good Brother would realize how oddly you had behaved at the end of your shared dinner, would put the pieces together, and would most likely act. But you had chosen not to share your shocking revelation with Ser Alren or the rest of the escort, as Harwin was the one who deserved to hear the truth from you first. You did not mean to come across short, but you had to continue impressing upon the party how urgently you desired to pick up the pace.

“It is to offer themselves relief, My Lady.”

You internally cursed. As if you could not afford your protectors that small decency. “Very well. But let’s be quick about it.”

The party directed their horses off to the side of the road, though you had not passed or even seen any other travelers for several hours. As most of the men dismounted and disappeared from view into the treeline, you, Ser Alren, and two others who had chosen to stay behind remained.

It was silent for several long moments, with the flapping of the Tyrell banners in the wind the only sound that could be heard.

When you suddenly dismounted, Ser Alren gave you a questioning look. You told him, “I shall be but a moment.”

Ser Alren looked as though he wanted to protest, but he did not. “Please, My Lady- make haste.” To the other two men who had remained behind, he directed, “Go and see what is keeping the others, would you?”

You crossed the road and disappeared into the opposite treeline that the rest of the party had gone into. After a short walk under the trees, you found a stream. Thankfully, the water looked decently clear. Even if your mind would not allow you to be entirely at ease, perhaps a freshening up would allow you to feel a little bit better. You scrubbed at your hands, and then your face. Though you still felt tired, largely in part to your inability to sleep much at all over the past few days, the cold water did wonders to help lift some of the grogginess.

When you were satisfied that you felt as well as you were likely to become, you headed back to the road. The closer you drew, the louder the horses became. They were becoming restless.

When they came into view, you confirmed as much. The horses were still tied to the trees that their riders had fixed them too, but they pulled against the restricted reins, as if trying to break free. But what was even more alarming was what you did not see.

“Ser Alren?”

When Ser Alren stepped around one of the horses and into your line of sight, you let out a sigh of relief. “Forgive me, My Lady. It looks as though something has spooked the horses-”

You could barely string your words together fast enough as you yelped, “Behind you!”

A cloaked figure caught Ser Alren off guard. Your warning had given your companion enough notice for him to step out of the way of his assailant’s blade, but not enough time to escape him outright. Ser Alren unsheathed his own sword, and the pair were entangled in a vicious scuffle.

Sounds of further fighting echoed beyond in the otherwise silent woods. You could also hear the thundering of hooves coming from up ahead, and felt the trembling of the ground. There was no telling how many more enemies were descending upon you and the party, but there was no doubt that some were already here.

“Run, My Lady!”

You barely had a moment to process Ser Alren’s command before someone grabbed you from behind.

In addition to showing you how to use the dagger he’d gifted you, Hariwn had also long since taught you some basic maneuvers for self-defense. When you suddenly found yourself in the clutches of an attacker, your instincts jumped to attention.

You kicked your favored leg free from your skirts and brought it down to the ground as hard as you could. When your heel collided with the foot of the assailant who’d grabbed you, a raw vocalization of pain rang in your ears. It was no normal scream, but you paid it no mind as your captor’s hold loosened enough for you to break free.

Your feet worked of their own accord as you sprinted away from the scene and back underneath the trees. Your heart burned as you ran further and further, but you did not dare turn around, lest you find yourself being pursued.

Only when you came upon the stream you’d found did you dare to take a moment. You glanced behind you- there was no one. The cooler air caused your breaths to come out in smoky puffs as you tried to gather your bearings.

You could run. Or rather, keep running. You were armed with a dagger, but not trained nor prepared to duel with men bearing swords. Safety first, those had been Harwin’s words once. Seek safety first, and strategize second. No use in calculating a plan of action when you could still be blindsighted at any moment.

Running it was, then. Should you need to, you could find it in yourself to climb a tree. You hadn’t done anything of the sort since you were a girl, but you’d find a way. You’d much rather await for rescue in a tree than allowing yourself to fall prey to whatever these assailants had in store for you on the ground.

In the distance, the clashing of swords sung.

Move, you told yourself.

You took a step forward, but froze as you saw another cloaked figure in the periphery of your vision. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do what you did next, whether it was stupidity, fear, or anger, but it was certainly something that would’ve had Harwin in a concerned fit.

Instead of running, you turned, stood tall, and faced the cloaked figure head on.

In the setting sun, you saw a faint glimmer emitting from the front of their cloak. The figure removed their hood at your challenge, revealing the face of a man whom you did not recognize.

“Who are you?” you demanded authoritatively. “Who do you serve?”

The man said nothing.

You surmised, “Do you refuse to speak, or are you simply unable to?”

As if willing to humor you, the man opened his mouth to reveal a tongueless void. You grimaced, thinking of your next move.

But you were spared devising your next course of action when the man across the way was suddenly speared, and a sword pierced through his stomach from behind.

You gasped, and once more, your instinct urged you to run. But you ran straight into the arms of another. And judging by the tight grip you found yourself ensnared in once again, you knew they were not the arms of a rescuer. You kicked and struggled in their grasp, fighting with enough strength that both you and your captor tumbled to the ground.

There was a brief struggle for power, with you getting the upper hand for a moment, and then losing your ground. Your attacker managed to snake an arm around your neck from behind you. When they applied pressure, your senses kicked into a height of which you’d never experienced before.

You used every bit of fight left within you to reach for the dagger at your waist. You’d been wise to not brandish it sooner, or else you likely would have been without it now. You and the assailant attempting to get the best of you rolled on the ground once more. You went with the momentum, hoping it would lure your the man into a false sense of hope that you had given up your struggle.

With your foe behind you, and your hand on the dagger, which was still shielded beneath your cloak, you caught a brief glimpse of the sky. It was painted beautifully by the setting sun. As your thumb brushed the rose on the dagger’s pommel, you faintly thought how much you would have loved to stare at it until it was no more. You longed to watch it fade until the image was replaced by the darkness of night, disrupted only by the cold lights of the stars. But with every passing moment, the breath in your lungs was escaping you.

If this was the end, at least you were being treated to a lovely view.

With a strength you did not know you possessed, you took the dagger in both of your hands, and with all the force you could muster, you drove it down past your side, and into the flesh of the body behind you.

There was no scream. Only a sickening wet sound that was haunting similar to the sound of Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s head being struck from his body.

The pressure of the arm around your neck loosened, before eventually ceasing altogether. You gasped for air, ignoring the burning within you.

Before you could even think, another pair of hands reached for you, and you flinched away. Your dagger was beyond your reach now, presumably still impaled in the stomach of your previous assailant. But you’d come this far, you’d be damned to go down without swinging. Screwing your eyes shut, you flung your fists about until you made contact with something solid. Metal.

Armor.

But what you heard next was not silence, nor a peculiarly pained noise, but a comfortingly familiar voice instead.

“Stop! Stop, it’s me!”

Your eyes shot open, the face above you revealing itself to be none other than the one who mattered to you most.

“Harwin.”

Harwin, donning his armor, was panting heavily, with half his hair pulled up and away from his face. He scanned the area briefly before his comforting hazel eyes returned to you. The love, and relief, that you saw within them was overwhelming. But your husband did not look at you for long, as his focus quickly fell to your side.

“Are you hurt?”

Your eyes followed his own, where you saw angry splotches of red along the waist of your gown. You didn’t trust your own voice yet, but as you didn’t feel anything other than the wild beating of your heart and the faint burning in your chest, you shook your head.

You could tell by the look in his eyes that Harwin wasn’t quite convinced as to whether he could believe you. But when abruptly he pulled you into his arms, you knew it did not matter.

The two of you, still kneeling on the forest floor, gripped one another more tightly than you ever had before as the adrenaline began to die off.

“How are you here?” you asked, your voice muffled by Harwin’s chest.

He placed a comforting hand on the back of your head, silently conveying that he had no intention of letting you go anywhere just yet. Not that you wanted to. “When you did not arrive a few days ago, as you expected to, I was worried. But when Lord Darklyn received troubling news from King’s Landing, I knew I had to ride out and find you at once. We’ve been riding for a day straight. By the looks of it, we arrived not a moment too soon.”

You buried your face in the front of Harwin’s breastplate, not daring to look anywhere else. You spared the last thought you could for the man lying only a few paces away. “I’ve killed him, haven’t I?”

Harwin’s arms around you tightened. Unlike before, the restriction meant safety, not danger. It meant comfort. “No.” He pressed a chaste but undoubtedly loving kiss to your hairline. “You defended yourself, My Love.”

You killed a man.

But that could be dwelled upon later. “What was the troubling news Lord Darklyn received from the capital? … Is Princess Rhaenyra well?”

Harwin pulled back slowly, reluctantly removing his arms from around you. He cupped both sides of your face in his hands, capturing your full and complete attention. Harwin looked uncertain; his expression was one of great conflict, and he even looked a bit pained.

“The King is dead.”

“My Lord, My Lady!”

Ser Alren, accompanied by most of your men and others who must have rode out with Harwin, drew near. As they approached, Harwin stood, and helped you to your own two feet.

“Are you alright?” Ser Alren asked. The blatant concern on his face was touching.

“We will be,” Harwin answered, sounding more confident than you suspected he truly felt at that moment. “How many-”

“We were outnumbered, My Lord… and we lost two of our own because of it. But we outmatched them in skill. Rest assured that these mute heathens paid for the lives of two good and honorable men with each and every one of their own. May the Father judge them justly, and the Stranger guide them.”

Two of your own men, who had protected you and your family, gone. You didn’t bother to ask Ser Alren who they might have been at that moment- you would find out soon enough, when you would have to write to their kin and inform them of the loss.

“We shall pay them their more than earned respects, once it is safe to do so,” Harwin avowed somberly. “... Did you say these brigands were mute?”

“Yes, attempting to get any information out of them would have been futile. They have no tongues.”

You and Harwin exchanged a wary look.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Ser Alren deposited something small into Harwin’s open palm. “Appears as though they were all bearing it…” He glanced behind him briefly. “Even these two.”

You stared at the small item in your husband’s hand dumbfoundedly.

“It looks to be a pin of some sort,” Ser Alren speculated. “... That’s a firefly, is it not?”

Harwin went still.

“Harwin,” you said to him in a hushed tone, pulling at his arm closest to you desperately. “We really need to talk-”

But Ser Alren pressed, “My Lord and My Lady, I’m afraid that’s not all we found.”

You and Harwin watched as Ser Alren withdrew two scrolls from his cloak. They were small, as though they had been intended for a raven. As Ser Alren handed them over to the two of you, he explained further, “Found these in one of their cloaks. They share the same seal, but we left them unbroken.”

Though you knew what you would find, your gut sank when you recognized the seal beneath your fingers. You looked up Harwin.

Your husband looked at the firefly pin in one hand, and a scroll with the malvales seal in the other.

When realization finally dawned upon Harwin, your heart broke on his behalf.

A/N: Thank you for reading! 🖤 Feel free to let me know what you think! I'm so excited to get into the last few episodes. and for Harwin to contemplate how he's gonna get his revenge on Larys

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