#and after ravening war????????? there's no hope youre too far gone

[vitamin-zeeth]

I think once you've watched crown of candy something just irreversibly changes in your brain. There's no going back you just have to be insane about that whole universe forever sorry

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

[inmymagnetoera]

Anon from before again: hell yeah! Given your blog name magneto's a given 😭 I have a scenario in mind, but anything's good!

Maybe the reader refused Erik in Cuba? She couldn't abandon Charles on the shore like that, he'd already lost Raven. Generally angst/unresolved tension when they meet again on the airplane in DoFP, could be juicy material

MY FIRST X READER EVER.

However, I'm not very experienced in this genre, so I hope it's close to what you wanted. Btw Reader is gender neutral, I didn't use pronouns so anyone can relate to them!

(sorry if I didn't write anything too explicit, I didn't feel very comfortable doing it :')

________________________________

What about us?

"I told you to stay back!" Erik shouted holding Charles close to him as you felt your heart tear into pieces.

The two most important people in your life. The people who had saved you and taken you in after a lifetime of thinking you were alone, had just betrayed each other right in front of you, throwing accusations and punches, until that damned bullet hit your friend.

You approached slowly and Erik looked at you furiously, before his gaze became softer and more vulnerable, after all, that look was reserved only for you.

“Charles, oh my God…” you knelt next to Erik without looking at him and placed a hand on Charles’ shoulder.

They were talking but you weren't listening, too busy thinking about what would happen next: What would happen to your dream? Mutants united as a family? What would have happened to you and Erik?

As soon as you thought about him, the man stood up from his place next to Charles and looked at you.

"Let's go." He said holding out a hand to you. Behind him, Raven, Sean, and Shaw's goons looked at you.

"Go? Go where?" You said taking Charles into your arms.

"Far from here, to a place where mutants can become stronger." You saw it in his gaze, a little prayer that begged you to follow him, a look that told you that if you didn't follow him, he couldn't do it alone.

"Erik, I can't." You had tears in your eyes as you looked at him. That stupid helmet cast a shadow over his eyes. You saw his gaze change before returning to being cold and detached. He withdrew his hand.

"You've made your choice." He said angrily. But you knew, only you could know how hurt he was.

All the nights spent with him came back to you: The first time you saw him, with his brown leather jacket and his black turtleneck, the first time he saw you cry alone, hidden from everyone, and without a word he was next to you, shoulder to shoulder.

You remembered the time you saw him use his powers to create a steel rose, and how that same evening, you found a steel rose on your bed. You remembered the first time he took your hand and whispered in your ear. You remembered the tone of his voice the first time he confessed that he loved you.

When you stopped thinking, he was gone, a small cloud of sulfur rose into the air and, as you held your friend close to you, you thought about how you were going to wake up without Erik wrapped around you.

Ten years later.

The atmosphere on the plane was tense to say the least. The clawed man looked out the window (Logan, the man's name was Logan, right?) while Charles and Erik played chess.

The years after Erik's disappearance had been tough. Charles couldn't go more than a few hours without the serum. Alex left with one last hug for a war he didn't know if he would return from. Hank did what he could, but you couldn't help but feel useless every time you saw him without his glasses and his hands clasped around his face when he thought no one was looking.

When Logan had helped you free Erik, telling you that it was the only way to save his future, you hadn't hesitated, but when you saw him in that gray suit on the ground, after Charles had punched him, you didn't know what to do.

Was he still in love with you?

You hadn't said a word to each other since, but you hadn't missed the look he'd given to your soaked body in that kitchen.

Suddenly, Charles stood up and went to the bathroom, locking himself inside.

You and Erik were alone, inches from each other.

"Was it... difficult?" He asked softly.

“Yes,” you wanted to answer him

“Yes, it was hard to wake up every day without you, yes, it was hard to accept the fact that you were gone. You always told me that I was the most important thing in your life, so why didn't you choose me instead of your cause?"

“It could have been worse.” You said instead. He looked at you and after a few seconds nodded.

"I missed you." He said reaching out and taking your hand in his, running his thumb over the back of it.

You didn't speak, you were afraid that just opening your mouth would bring you back into his arms.

"It was the hardest thing in my life, choosing between you and the brotherhood. I know you most likely hate me but... I haven't stopped thinking about you for a second. One of the only thing that kept me going in that little cell of sponge and plastic was knowing you were still out here." He ran his hand down your arm, your heart felt like it was about to explode. No, you couldn't fall back into it that easily, if he wanted your forgiveness, he would have to do more than that.

"We'll talk about it when this is all over." You said as the bathroom lock unlocked and Charles returned to his seat. Erik withdrew his hand.

As you soared above the American skies, you wondered what would become of you.

[goodqueenaly]

Who do you think Hoster was looking at for Lysa, before the Petyr Incident? There are relatively few Lords Paramount, and most of them and their heirs were taken. Would he consider his own bannermen? Other people's? Maybe a cross match back to the Whents?

We know whom Hoster wanted Lysa to marry in the months (and perhaps years) leading up to the tourney of Harrenhal:

Jaime, meantime, had spent four years as squire to Ser Sumner Crake-hall and earned his spurs against the Kingswood Brotherhood. But when he made a brief call at King's Landing on his way back to Casterly Rock, chiefly to see his sister, Cersei took him aside and whispered that Lord Tywin meant to marry him to Lysa Tully, had gone so far as to invite Lord Hoster to the city to discuss dower.

"You asked me to reward you for your efforts in the battle," Lord Tywin reminded him forcefully. "This is a chance for you, Tyrion, the best you are ever likely to have." He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. "I once hoped to marry your brother to Lysa Tully, but Aerys named Jaime to his Kingsguard before the arrangements were complete. When I suggested to Lord Hoster that Lysa might be wed to you instead, he replied that he wanted a whole man for his daughter."

Jaime could see archers moving behind the merlons on the castle ramparts. Above them streamed the banners of House Tully, the silver trout defiant on its striped field of red and blue. But the highest tower flew a different flag; a long white standard emblazoned with the direwolf of Stark. "The first time I saw Riverrun, I was a squire green as summer grass," Jaime told his cousin. "Old Sumner Crakehall sent me to deliver a message, one he swore could not be entrusted to a raven. Lord Hoster kept me for a fortnight whilst mulling his reply, and sat me beside his daughter Lysa at every meal."

What Hoster imagined for Lysa between the tourney and the outbreak of Robert’s Rebellion (as well as her pregnancy by Peter Baelish, whenever Lysa revealed that vis a vis the start of the war) is uncertain, though I think it’s important to keep a few points in mind. Number one, this period was likely pretty short, certainly relatively speaking; if the “false spring” of 281 AC lasted only two months, and baby Aegon was born by the end of 281 AC or, at the latest, at the very very beginning of 282 AC, there may have been only a handful of months for Hoster to consider Lysa’s marital future before the next major bombshell on the political scene (followed by the more personal, but perhaps nearly equally shocking to Hoster, bombshell of Lysa’s pregnancy news). However long Hoster had been considering and planning the now-impossible Lysa-Jaime match, I doubt he had nearly as much time post-tourney to think about what he was going to do with Lysa nuptially. There were likely, as you mention, no obvious replacements who would serve the aims of the southron ambitions bloc, nor any obvious candidates Hoster may have considered sufficiently grand enough to match with the future sister-in-law of the Lord of Winterfell and indirect relation by marriage to the Lord of Storm’s End (and that’s without Hoster perhaps worrying that any marriage he arranged for Lysa too quickly after the tourney would be seen as trying to hush up a scandal - Hoster trying too hard to prove that Lysa was desirable, when Jaime Lannister had for all appearances chosen to go celibate rather than marry her). Indeed, that Hoster summarily and haughtily rejected Tyrion as a bridegroom for Lysa, presumably in this pre-war period, demonstrates that Hoster was not feeling so anxious about Lysa’s future that he needed to rush into just any aristocratic marriage for her (certainly not that he and a number of other Westerosi lords considered an insult).

Maybe more importantly, certainly from a political perspective, Hoster may have been less interested in trying to broker a match for Lysa in this period and more interested in performing damage control and shoring up the future with his allies in the southron ambitions power bloc. To all the world - certainly all or virtually all the attendees at Harrenhal -  Rhaegar had looked like he was trying to make Lyanna Stark his mistress, grossly publicly insulting Robert Baratheon and the Starks (among others) - and with the Starks the fulcrum of the southron ambitions bloc, Hoster may have feared that the web of nuptial alliances on which that bloc rested its future was in jeopardy. Too, with the king and his heir so dramatically and publicly at odds - and with Aerys so shockingly declined in appearance and personality, as evidenced by his attendance at the tourney - Hoster may have suspected that open conflict between the king and the crown prince leading to civil war, or a proxy conflict for their antagonism erupting into civil war, would come sooner rather than later; if the ultimate aim of the southron ambitions power block was to change the political power dynamic between the Iron Throne and its major vassals, this sort of conflict may have seemed like the ideal, or only, opportunity to do so. Securing the bloc before any move would be undertaken would mean securing those established and planned, but not yet completed, marital alliances - first Brandon and Catelyn, then Robert and Lyanna. Perhaps, in this flurry of politico-nuptial activity, Hoster considered the identity of Lysa’s future husband of secondary importance; Lysa, still only in her early teens, was not so old (even by Westerosi standards, *eyeroll*) that Hoster needed to fear her being left a spinster while he attended to what he may have considered more pressing matters.

[welcomingdisaster]

would you maybe like to write maglor & fingon? 🥺 they do not interact in canon at all but in my head they're the bestest of friends they braid each other's hair they sing together they hold hands—

also you're very cool and you have correct takes on the silmarillion characters hope you're having a nice day!

heyy anon!! I'm so sorry it took me to long to finish this! <3 thank you for the ask & the wonderful compliment. hopefully you're still hanging around to see this! here is a little scene between them that directly contradicts canon but crawled into my brain after getting this ask and wouldn't leave.

The first thing that strikes him is just how much Makalaurë resembles his father.

Perhaps, on some level, Findekáno simply expects to see his uncle. He had not gone to treat with the Feanorian camp. Though both he and Turno had bid their father send them, speaking over each other in their conflicting haste, he had given leave to Lalwen only. 

It was she, then, who had brought back the news;  the father dead, the eldest son taking, and only the second son upon the throne as regent. Findekáno had scarce believed it then, and even now it feels like a strange, unpleasant dream. 

So part of him, as he ducks inside the main building of the fortified campsite — an unwieldy triangular structure of logs piled against each other, clearly built with haste years ago and decorated only recently — expects to see Fëanáro. 

But it is more than that. Makalaurë has, in Valinor, had not stood so; did not pull his shoulders so far back nor raise his chin proudly. He had worn his long raven hair loose, then, as in the way of poets and bards; now it is bound behind him, pulled back from his face. Findekáno had never before noticed the sharpness of his cheekbones, the severe angles of his face. 

He has colored his eyes with scarlet red; he wears Feanorian colors, the dizzying array of yellow, flame-red, sky-blue so unlike his usual style. His robes, Findekáno can tell, are too large, pulled together tighter at the waist and chest by silver clips. 

It is no mystery who they had once belonged to. 

No stitches to pull back the fabric. No cutting. It is as though he expects his father to return and to wear them.

The men that walk on either side of him are not guards, exactly, but neither are they friendly escorts. Findekáno brings with him only his hunting bow and his lyre — nothing of war. 

And yet one of the Feanorian men has already asked to take his arrows. He offers no explanation, no true justification; they will not have him meet the regent with his quiver, and that is all. 

He does not argue, though some childish part of him wishes to. The sun has risen, but little darkness is lifted from their hearts. 

But he does not bow to Makalaurë, the way he knows is expected of him. There is only so much of this game that he shall play. 

“Cousin,” Makalaurë says, his voice grave, regal; lower in pitch than Findekáno had ever heard it, “what have you come for?” 

Findekáno supposes they are not bothering with the formalities. Easier, then. 

“I need a horse,” he says, “a quick one, that shall bear me from this land and into the east.”

None of the horses their camp had brought survived the journey. He prefers not to think of the fate of those fine beasts. 

Makalaurë’s frown deepens. I have no time for this, it says. “Then have your father send a trade offer. Written.”

“You misunderstand,” Findekáno says, “my father does not know I am here.” 

Makalaurë’s brow furrows. He blinks hard, his eyes darting towards the window, towards the lake on the horizon. 

“What are you doing, cousin?” his voice is softer, higher; there is something melodious to it now.

Findekáno says nothing. 

Makalaurë looks eastward, tilting his head as though listening for something. There is something about the gesture that seems practiced, something of ritual about it; he has been looking eastward for thirty years. 

“Do you—” Findekáno himself has heard nothing. Felt nothing. 

Makalaurë shakes his head, wincing. It is not the apologetic wince of polite conversation; it is sharp, pained. Findekáno feels as though he has accidentally elbowed open a gut wound. 

“Only heartbeat, at times.” He turns away from Findekáno, striding towards the window. Leans heavily on the windowsill and raps his fingers against it, a dull noise of gloved hands against wood. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

Findekáno wills himself not to be jealous of it. It is more than he has heard. 

“I need a horse,” he repeats, “Káno—” 

His cousin does not turn to look at him, but raises a hand, cutting him off. 

“Your brother,” he says, “your sister. Your father, for the sake of all that is holy, Finyo.” 

“I wrote him a letter,” Findekáno says, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, where papers lay folded against his heart, and holds it out, “if I do not come back...” 

This has Makalaurë turning towards him again, eyebrows raised, eyes wide. With his hair pulled back from his face as it is, his chin tilted back, it gives him an odd air, as though someone has taken him by the braid and yanked him back. His hands are raised, fingers splayed out. He steps back from the papers, unwilling to touch them.

“You cannot mean to leave that with me!” 

“I do not mean to give you a choice,” Findekáno says, “unless you should like the thought of my poor, bereaved father wondering what has happened to me. Thinking, perhaps, that I was overtaken by the rival camp, that Feanorian line that so wishes to undermine his power—” 

Makalaurë snatches the letter from him with such force the paper crumples. For a moment Findekáno thinks he is about to hit him. 

“Your brother,” he says again, a plea.

“I know,” Findekáno says, though he does not, “I know. I will return.” 

Makalaurë straightens out the paper. Spares it a glance then tucks it into his own pocket, breathing hard. 

“My father, wherever he may dwell now, has no more need for his horse,” he says, his voice returning to the lower pitch, “but she is fine and quick, of such hue that passes easily unnoticed in these forests. I will send word to have her ready for you.” 

“Thank you,” Findekáno says. 

His cousin does not meet his eye. Outside the wind whistles, and Findekáno listens for a heartbeat he does not hear. 

“You may go.” The words of a king, remembered a little too late, ill-fitting in the poet’s mouth.

Findekáno inclines his head forward, a little half-bow. Listens for a heartbeat he does not hear. “Until we meet again, then.” 

He turns to go, takes a two steps forward, and only then Makalaurë comes after him, a quick, half-hopping step forward to close the distance between them. Catches Findekáno’s wrist in his hand, his grip tight. 

Findekáno waits for him to speak. Makalaurë says nothing. His grip loosens, and his hand shifts down; now he holds Findekáno’s hand, his thumb pressing against his palm. 

“Finyo,” he says, and for a moment Findekáno thinks he will abandon it all to follow him, that they will leave together. Again his eyes drift eastward. But he only leans forward and presses his lips against Findekáno’s cheek, smelling of wine and tree-sap. “Goodbye,” he says.

And that is all. 

[star-girl69]

I Loved You Like the Sun

a/n: this is one of my fav chapters so far i think so i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do!!

warnings: swearing, swords, incest, mentions of death, violence, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Three- To Break

—-

After knowing the freedom of flying, you are not sure how you keep your feet on the ground.

You are quite aquatinted to freedom, you have longed for it all your life, known it when your husband died, when you married Daemon and Rhaenyra.

But now, after flying on Cannibal, it is something integral in your blood. Like the very essence of the notion turned physical, and seeped into your blood stream. Swam through your arteries, and stayed there like it was always meant too.

Besides, you ride the most terrifying dragon in the world. You have Daemon and Rhaenyra by your side, the fiercest dragons. You are free, and even if you weren't, your liberation would come quick.

You watch with rapt attention as the Painted Table comes to life, and orange glow emitting straight from heart of it. The table is one of those oldest Targaryen treasures, the most beautiful.

But you watch even more avidly as Rhaenyra descends the stairs, flanked by guards, gold and silver adorning her head.

"Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." The people surrounding the table bow, but you stand next to Daemon, ridged as him.

She surveys the room, bedore taking a step down the stairs, the rumble of Knights following her. She stopped, gestured to them, and when she moved again they stayed in place.

Her majesty and power knows no bounds, you think to yourself as Rhaena comes up to her.

"Wine, My Queen." She seems shocked for a second, not quite used to the title coming from her own child's mouth.

"Thank you, Rhaena." She says, taking the cup. Her hand does not shake and she does not waver.

"Come." she says, and Rhaena trails behind her with a proud smile. Baela joins, taking her place beside her betrothed as Rhaena does the same. The hall is silent, and you almost wish one of your children was near, to hold and relax your nerves with their scent.

But Daemon is all too happy to let you fold into him, as he holds his arm in front of you and you grab it, feeling the eyes of the court. Tucked into his side, it is the safest you have felt since Aegon was crowned.

You know Daemon likes the look as well, showing off his strength, showing everyone that his wife comes to him for protection, for comfort. Having the hearts and minds of the lords and knights loyal to them is integral, and Daemon will flash every asset they have.

Besides, you would have sought him out anyways.

"What is our standing?" Rhaenyra asks, breaking the silence.

"We have 30 knights, a hundred crossbowmen and 300 men-at-arms." You feel Daemon take a breath. "Dragonstone is relatively easy to deems, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I'll have some support there, but I cannot speak for the numbers.

Your eyes flick to the maester next.

"We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon." It is a good start, but not nearly enough to win this war.

"My lady mother was an Arryn. The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

"Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace. With Prince Daemon's acquiescence, l've already sent Ravens to Lord Grover." The Maester says, gesturing towards Daemon. Rhaenyra narrows her eyes at him, but as quick as it’s there, it’s gone.

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war."

"I’m going to treat with him myself." Daemon, his voice so full of apathy, you would not even known it was him talking if you could not feel the vibration of his chest. You look up at him, watch as he makes eye contact with Rhaenyra from across the table, daring her to make him bend.

You faintly hear the sound of voices in the background, but you are too busy hugging Daemon's arm tighter, breathing in his scent. The Riverlands are far, dangerous. You have not been that far from him since you had met him, really.

Does he not understand how this would break you? Break Rhaenyra?

“With House Stark, the North will follow.” The maester says with finality, his voice raising and snapping you out of your fear.

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises.” You watch as a knight places the Baratheon figure on the table. Rhaenyra breathes in, the room falling silent again. Jace places another marker on the table. “What news of Driftmark?” Rhaenyra asks, turning to Rhaenys.

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone.”

“To declare for his Queen.” Daemon’s voice is final, not quite a question.

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke. He decides where they sail.” You see Daemon and Rhaenys stare each other done from across the hall, but Rhaenyra wisely steps in.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health.” Rhaenys nods her head. “There’s no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet. And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters. Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.” Daemon replies.

“Without the Lannisters we are not like to find any allie’s west of the Golden Tooth.” Rhaenyra concludes.

“No.” You feel Daemon sigh. “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

You push your face to his ear, fingertips digging into his clothes. “You can’t leave us, Daemon,”

He spares you a glance. “I’ll return.”

But he cannot promise that.

“Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot.” Your eyes flick from Daemon to Rhaenyra, daring each other to speak, as the lord talks. “Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

“The Greens have dragons-”

“They have three adults, by my count.” Daemon interrupts. “We have Syrax, Caraxes, Meleys. Our sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer. Our own wife rides Cannibal, Your Grace.”

“Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war.”

“Cannibal-” He starts.

“Unless it has slipped my mind I do not believe that Y/N has gone to war, either. None of our children have. I haven’t.” Rhaenyra counters. But Daemon avoids her words.

“There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless.” In the midst of their argument, your eyes fix to Rhaena.

No matter you and your dragon are being manipulated like a chess piece, no matter your husband plans to leave, because Rhaena is your daughter and all she has ever wanted was a dragon.

“Then there are the two wild dragons, both of whom nest here. Y/N claimed the most terrifying of them. Proving that wild dragons can be tamed.”

“And who is to ride them?” Rhaenyra asks, voice filled with exasperation.

“Dragonstone has 13 to their 4.” Daemon enunciates, ignoring Rhaenyra’s question. “I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont. Now…” You feel him move to grab a marker, remove his arm from you, squeezing your waist in passing by. He places the marker on Harrenhal. “We need a place to gather. Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

The room is silent for a moment, before Ser Arryk, the man who delivered the crown to Dragonstone, comes up behind Rhaenyra. “Your Grace… a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

As soon as the words are spoken, Dameon jumps to action. “Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies.” He comes back over to your side of the table, grabbing Dark Sister. Your eyes meet Rhaenyra’s from across the table.

“Shall I mount Cannibal, Your Grace? A show of power?” She studies you for a moment.

“Yes.” She whispers.

You wait for your heart to break, the emotions she is feeling, the emotions you are feeling, threatening to consume you. But your heart does not not break. The dam does not fall. You don’t know why.

—-

The winding bridge of Dragonstone is in your sights, and you can see the Hand, even from the sky.

With the black castle of Dragonstone at your back, Cannibal blends right in as you fly towards it.

Normally, you would savor flying, loop and twirl and feel muscles and breath move beneath you. But today, you only fly straight ahead. You see a head of blonde hair, Daemon, turn.

“Cannibal,” you whisper, and by all odds he should not be able to hear you. Instead, he does. Instead, he roars. You swear the island shakes with the power of it.

You land messily on the rocky outcrop of Dragonstone, Cannibal dipping his shoulder to lower you. Caraxes waits on the bridge, but Cannibal is too large to fit on it. Besides, it would collapse under his weight.

You walk briskly, under Caraxes, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he leans his long head down to you.

You arrive just after Otto does, his eyes fixed upon the mass of fire made flesh behind you that is Cannibal. As black as coal, with emerald green eyes. You swear when he roared, you saw the helmets of his entourage shake. You hope it was in fear.

“I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent,” Otto starts, tearing his eyes away from your beast. “mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” This time, you cannot hold your tongue.

“He is a usurper,” you hiss, and Cannibal roars softly in agreement, sensing your distress. You do not miss Otto’s flinch.

But he ignores you.

“I’ve been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra.” Daemon stands, Dark Sister’s blade pointed the the ground. He leans on the pommel almost lazily, unaffected, not scared. You stand close to him, knowing that regardless of your disagreement, he will protect you. “Where is the Princess?”

Then, because the Gods must be on your side, Rhaenyra emerges from the clouds at that moment, with a screech from Syrax. She is accompanied by the low sound of Cannibal’s approval, a few clicks from Caraxes.

Rhaenyra lands wisely, behind the Greens, blocking them in.

Syrax roars again, and you swear you can feel her desire to simply burn them all. Instead, Rhaenyra climbs off, and makes her way through the Greens, toward you and Daemon. She fixes her hard gaze onto Otto.

“Princess Rhaenyra.” He greets her, trying to provoke her.

“I’m Queen Rhaenyra now.” Is all she says, tone leaving no room for argument. “And you all are traitors to the realm.”

You almost wish to stomp your feet like a petulant child, cry and scream that it is not fair, and demand for your wife’s birthright.

“King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name… in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms.” Silence. “Acknowledge Aegon as King and swear fealty to him, and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your trueborn son, Jacerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark, and all the lands and holdings of House Velaryon. Your sons by Prince Daemon will also be given places of high honor at court; Aegon the Younger as the King’s squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. The King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent.”

He stares at all of you for a moment, letting his words sink in, before his eyes fix upon you.

“Finally,” he starts, and you feel your stomach clench. “There is the matter of the Lady Y/N. The King, a devout follower of the Seven, cannot sanction a triad. He offers a marriage match, to Prince Aemond Targaryen, and the legitimization of your daughter, Daenys.”

You swear you feel bile rise in your throat, placing a hand over your stomach and looking out over the sea. Your eyes are blurry with tears, obstructing your vision, filling your vision, like you are being filled with utter disgust. You gasp for air, pure revulsion blocking your airway.

Cannibal roars from somewhere behind you, raising his wings into the air.

“I… would rather feed my sons to the dragons then have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper, cunt of a king. And you are a fucking fool if you think my wife will be going anywhere. I know you have never loved before, Otto, but my wife is fucking mine and she will stay where she belongs.” You feel the rage in Daemon’s voice, his disgust. He has never taken kindly to what is his being lost.

You whip around, facing Otto again.

“Don’t-” you hiss, pointing your finger at him and finding that you can barely speak due to your rage. “I will not be condemned for being a woman again. I will not be taken again. I am married.”

But, he only ignores you. As you are a woman and he will never respect you. He fixes his eyes to Rhaenyra instead, and you are sure he is sick with the displeasure of it.

“Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conqueror’s crown, wields the Conqueror’s sword. Has the Conqueror’s name. He was anointed by a septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon. House that have also received, and are at present, considering generous terms from their king.”

His voice is diplomatic, you suppose, but you are too busy grounding yourself to the presence of Daemon and Rhaenyra, reassuring yourself you won’t be taken from them.

“Stark, Tully, and Baratheon all swore to me when King Viserys named me his heir.” You close your eyes, imagine Rhaenyra is instead whispering something sweet into your ear instead of bargaining for her birthright, and for the lives of your children, and for you.

“Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, Princess.” He steps forward, and Daemon swings an arm out to push you behind him. You hear the guards make for their swords. “The succession changed the day your father sired a son. I only regret that you and he were the last to see the truth of it.”

Suddenly, Rhaenyra is stepping forward, and you almost wish to run to her and hold her back, keep her with you. You could not live if she wasn’t beside you. There would be no life without her.

She unclasps the broach on his chest.

“You are no more Hand than Aegon is king.” She throws the broach off the edge. “Fucking traitor.” She stares at him for a moment longer, and he stares at her. “I will not lose my wife again. I will not give up my birthright, I will not deprive my sons and daughters from theirs.” He studies her, and you want to scream that she is not his to look upon like that.

“Grand Maester.” Is all Otto says, and you watch as the man steps forward. pulling a paper from his robe.

“What the fuck is this?” Daemon hisses.

You watch as Rhaenyra unfolds the paper. You cannot see what is on it, but you can hear Otto’s words.

“Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. No blood need be spilled, so the realm can carry on in peace. Queen Alicent eagerly awaits your answer.”

“She can have her answer now, stuffed in her father’s mouth along with his withered cock. Let’s end this mummer’s farce.” Then he draws his sword, the sound of steel from both sides sharp in your ears. “Get to Cannibal,” he whispers, only to you.

But you don’t.

“See Arryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure myself.”

Syrax suddenly roars, and you can hear the sound of Cannibal shuffling. Unsure of what to do.

“No.” Rhaenyra’s voice breaks through the chaos, and even you are surprised. She turns, and meets your eyes, meets Daemon’s. Your husband tilts his head, but drops his sword. “King’s Landing will have my answer on the morrow.”

She turns, eyes locking with yours. She walks past, grabbing your hand, dragging you with her.

“I will not suffer the pain of life without you again.” She whispers. “If you do not know what to believe, believe that. Daenys is my child as much yours, legitimate, a Princess, and you are mine. You are ours.”

And perhaps her silence, her cold, calculating looks, diplomatic, apathetic voice had scared you. You always knew she would change when she became Queen. But you had not prepared yourself for war.

Perhaps you needed to hear her say that. You only turned to her, to find her already looking at you, and squeezed her hand.

“I know, Nyra. I love you.”

“Good. I- I love you too. I love you, and Daemon, more than anything.” You smile, and she turns back. But she seems lighter now. Syrax takes to flight, flying above you, and Cannibal does the same with one final, threatening roar.

You know this war is far from over, you know it hasn’t even started. But you feel Daemon catch up to you, his strong, sure presence soothing you. You are ready now, you think, as long as you have your dragons by your side. All three of them.

—-

taglist:

@wondergal2001 @akiraquote @a-lil-bit-nuts @anginoguera @thatkinkylesgirl1 @stitchattacks @honeypillowsblog @kaloafd @blackhoodlea @softtina @wallace02sblog @tetgod @hotd-fanfic @rxscpctals @iramagnus

[razorblade180]

Ignited chapter 3: Hidden Obstacles

Ch2 <-

As the promising youth of today took their exam, the heroes of days gone by were filled in on what transpired during their secret war. Yang told Jaune, Tai, and especially Jacquelyn, how Adam had saved her from an explosion that could’ve cost her life and put the man in an indefinite coma. After the story, Jacquelyn was finally able to explain to all, the festering hatred that hounded Jael like a tempest in her soul.

Most were privy to bits of the situation already, but for Jaune and Tai, who remained home to take care of the children, it was quite the story. Jaune had noticed the reserved and cold nature that Jael gave during her greeting like everyone else did. He wouldn’t have guessed the reasoning though, or how deep seeded the negativity would be.

“Poor girl.” He said, folding his arms. “That’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

Jackie nodded in agreement. “I’m happy to see you can empathize, but I also have to apologize. I’ve tried my best to get her to understand while her anger is justified, it shouldn’t be directed at any of you. Yujin especially. It’s just…” Jacquelyn sighed in defeat.

“It’s hard to tell your own child to look or feel one way when it’s impossible to hide your own frustrations. Believe me, I get it.”

Yang didn’t even want to think about the countless conversations Jaune must’ve had with Yujin about why her own mother wasn’t around. “I’m sorry.” She said softly. “To all of you; for…so many things.”

“Please, don’t burden yourself like this.” Jacquelyn looked at the group. “That goes for all of you. Nobody expected you to be perfect and despite my own grief, it was ultimately my husband’s choice to join you in ending this dangerous threat. Jael understands this too. I know she does. It just doesn’t change the fact Jael has sadly lived a life with things she could call hers and that are precious to her. The years Adam spent looking over your family in her eyes is time lost with him. Then this tragedy happened. To her, Yujin, or rather, the Xiao Longs have taken arguably the most precious thing of all from her.”

“Doesn’t help Adam trained Yujin.” Raven added. “It would be impossible for Yujin to not be the center of that girl’s resentment. I’m not saying Adam thought of my granddaughter as his own child by any means, but he definitely took his role as a mentor and figure quite seriously. Maybe he felt like he owed Yang for past grievances, or he is truly fond of Yujin? Either way…”

“It would be hard to stomach as his legitimate child.” Ruby finished. She couldn’t help but wonder if Canary held any similar sentiments in regards to how Uncle Qrow treated the two of them. “So what now? I can’t imagine Jael is swearing a lifetime of vengeance. I mean she’s taking the huntsman exam as we speak and seems like a pretty earnest kid.”

Jackie smiled gently. “Thank you, and she is quite earnest. Today, for better or for worse, she’s being comforted with the person she hates the most. She hopes to completely outshine Yujin and prove her superiority. At least, that’s how I see it. It’s why she hasn’t told Yujin about Adam. She wants to definitively prove that all the time she had with her father was well spent and more valuable than anything he gave yours. My fear is that she’ll get far too worked up, or worse.”

“Oh!” Yang perked up. “That reminds me, I saw her spit out blood. Adam had mentioned she was ill. Something about her heart?”

Jacquelyn’s eyes widened. To think he would share that with Yang of all people. Not to mention the look of concern on her face. Will wonders never cease?”

“Yes, my daughter was premature and has an exceptionally weak heart. In all honesty, she completely destroyed the odds of her life expectancy by more than a decade. Thankfully it’s completely possible for her to live a long life with her medicine and own diligence in her health. Her semblance, which is gravity, has also done wonders in lightening the stress on her heart.”

Ren was more than a little intrigued to hear that. “She uses her own semblance to help her heart? That takes incredible control.”

“She’s not always doing it but yes, she does. Life finds a way as they say. Her control probably surpasses mine. Still, the body has its limits. Reckless excursion and letting her emotions get the better of her too much will put strain on her heart. Sadly, I’m not surprised her first conversation with Yujin made her a bit… agitated. It’s why I asked Yujin to let Jael focus on the exam and try not to interact too much.”

Winter furrowed her brow, crossing her arms in skepticism. “You’re letting your daughter attempt to become a huntress despite the health risk!?”

“You see me as irresponsible? Truthfully, I can’t blame you, but believe me when I say my daughter is vastly more capable than I can put into words. If it weren’t for these specific circumstances, I’d imagine today and countless following days would be nothing she hasn’t handled in the past. We don’t exactly live in a comfortable environment. Also…”

Jacquelyn looked off at a single little bird standing on a branch. She watched as it took the leap, barely catching itself and taking flight into the sky.

“Any self respecting mother wishes a long and happy life for their children. That being said, I constantly see my youngest child doing everything she can to always feel her emotions within reason; as if she were a bird in a cage. As much as I would adore the idea of Jael living a simple, ordinary life for all her days, I know happiness is the last thing she’d feel. She may look like her father, but passion and desire to dream… those are my gifts to her. If I have a regret, it’s that I couldn’t give her a body naturally strong enough to chase down those dreams and ambitions without a second thought.”

A breeze blew through the group. It was hard not to feel some sort of pity towards the maiden and she deeply cared about her family. It was also difficult to not fear for Yujin. Once again, a Taurus and a Xiao Long were on opposing sides. The more things change, the more they stay the same. The sound of the tower’s bell rang. Nora turned her head to see several of the potential students already heading back.

“Time really flies. Looks like the first part is over.” She looked at Jacquelyn. “Sooooo…”

“Please treat my child normally, and I’d like it if all of you could continue honoring her request about Adam. If something happens, I’ll take full responsibility. Glynda already knows this, and you all of course have the right to intervene if you really think it’s necessary.”

They all nodded, but silently wished this day could stay pleasant. Yujin and Tenzen were already on their way back; Jael wasn’t too far behind them so Jacquelyn started putting a little distance from the group.

“We’re back!!!” Yujin grinned at her mother.

“Ha! Someone looks confident.”

“Of course! There were a few questions about grimm I was hazy on, but I know my stuff! If the grading scale is normal then I definitely passed this section.”

Tenzen wasn’t worried in the slightest either. In fact, he was even more relaxed than before. “I have a perfect score.”

“Oh yeah?” Nora smirked, hands on her hips. “That’s a bold statement before it’s graded.”

“Trust. I may not have been the star student at combat school but this surprise exam was easier than the finals.”

Yujin chuckled to herself. “I remember that day. You were sweating buckets and looked ready to vomit when I saw you.”

“I forgot my textbook! I couldn’t study properly!”

Several feet away, Jael let out a pensive sigh and tapped her left foot. “That could’ve gone better.”

“Oh no. Was our material not up to standard? I had Blake triple track.”

“No, it was.” She signed again. “I had just never taken a timed test before. Actually, I’ve never really taken a standardized test at all.” Being homeschooled really showed its consequences today.

“Did you manage to finish?”

“I managed that much. I also realized maybe my knowledge of dust isn’t what I’d call…up to par. As far as the rest goes, I feel pretty good about my answers.”

“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t fret over the test too much. Many people here also don’t have the benefit of attending a combat school before entering an academy. However Beacon is grading this, I’m positive they take individuals like you into account.”

“Gee, I didn’t say I bombed or anything crazy. It was just…unfamiliar.” Jael pouted but quickly shook it off. “Regardless, I’ll make up the difference in the next part.”

“That’s the spirit!”

It wasn’t much longer than Glynda and Canary came walking out of the building at their own leisurely, but efficient pace.

“So was this a test of my grading skills?”

“Young lady, I wouldn’t have entertained an interview with you if I doubted your ability to do average math. Many of these children will be in your class before long. It serves you well to know what you might be getting into. That and if you’re anything like your father, learning to retain names now will make for less awkward moments later.”

Canary couldn’t help but smile softly. “Yeah. That sounds like something he’d struggle with.” They made it back to the group and surprisingly, the examinees all quickly lined up again. “Ha! Wow. Nice to see all of you are dedicated but loosen up a little. It’s not like you’re students…yet.”

Canary pulled out her scroll and raised it for all to see. “Now I could project all the scores big enough for you all to see. However, I’m not in the business of public humiliation or unnecessary stress. I’ll leave that to Professor Oobleck.”

The alumni of Beacon all sighed in unison. “Dr. Oobleck.” They said in a tired and strangely rehearsed manner.

Canary was only joking but now she shared the same look of worry the young adults did. “O…Kay then. Any who, once I hit the send button, all of you will be sent your personal scores thanks to all of you following the test direction by writing down your ID number. I will say this now. Even if your score is low, it doesn’t mean you’re doomed. Just that you have a steep hill to climb in terms of convincing us to let you in. Although for some of you…well, you’ll know who you are.”

She presses send and all scrolls start pinging. Voices of triumph were scattered alongside sighs of relief and agitated grunts. Yujin immediately sent her proud 89% to her family and heard their excitement. Tenzen scooted shoulder to shoulder with her, tilting his scroll her way to flash his 100%.

“…Fuck off. It’s my birthday. ” She nudged the snickering boy.

“What can I say? I’m a good test taker.”

Jael had to fumble with her new scroll a bit before finally opening the attachment to see a humble 72%. Honestly she wasn’t proud of it, but her attitude changed as a few of her peers actively began moving from their spot, heading towards an airship or back to their parents as they left.

“They could feel you immediately?” She said softly to herself.

“Yeah.” Said a boy with gray shaggy hair right next to her. “My cousin told me if you miss critical questions or get caught cheating, then you’ll fail immediately. Not that I can confirm this rumor but it makes sense. Huntsmen need knowledge and integrity after all.”

“Makes sense. Although by that logic it sounds like you could fail honorably and stay. At least that’s what it feels like.”

“Hehe, I like that theory.” The boy decided to show her his own score.

Jael wasn’t expecting to see a solid 50% in red. Yet there was a comment below that gave approval to stick around. “And here I was pitying myself. Guess my theory might have merit.”

“Looks like I’m steep climbing.” He laughed nervously.

His lack of confidence was more outstanding than his ability to get half of the possible points. This guy looked pretty sincere though and about a head shorter than her. Grayish blue eyes and deep blue jean shorts that contrasted his white shirt and open black button up. Even his cyan high top sneakers were pretty normal. Jael would’ve thought he was ready for the mall if it wasn’t for the black mechanical spear on his back.

Jael tilted her head as she examined the engravings on the pole and wide arrowhead shaped tip. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Marcus.” He smiled. “Marcus Graystone. Nice to meet you. And yours?”

“Jael. A pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

As the failures left, Canary took the time to summon a giant Ursa, choosing to sit atop its head. Her eyes scanned for a certain person then checked the time. “Hmm, looks like I’m not the only person who shows up tardy; eh Glynda?” She smiled.

“The difference is you’re not a child. Also I have a pretty good idea on what’s holding them up.”

“Looks like they’re waiting on something.” Tenzen whispered to Yujin. “Any clues on what?”

“It probably has to do with the next phase of the entrance exam, right? Maybe another teacher is coming.”

“Ooo, I hope it’s Professor Peach.”

“Y’know I hear that name occasionally, and yet for some reason it sounds made up.”

Glynda took the initiative to call the examiner. It only took two rings before an answer.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” A youthful and gentle voice cried out. “The devil's always in the details! Not to mention I took it upon myself to do some grimm dispatches. I know I probably shouldn’t since this is a huntsman academy exam but a particular few-”

“Ms. Aspen. Are you ready?”

Glynda said calmly.

“…Yeah. We’re all set, I'll say.”

“So I’ll have the students move to the next location and meet you there?”

“Mmm, no need for all that trouble. Plus it’s important to have ample time for good decisions. All you gotta do is video call me and point me towards the crowd! I’ll handle the rest.”

“Very well then.” Glynda hit video call and extended her scroll out. “May I have everyone’s attention!”

There wasn’t a single person who wasn’t squinting as they tried to see what was on the scroll.

“Ah, the courtyard. A nearly full one at that. Looks like there’s a bunch of good apples this year.” The young woman said, knowing few would hear her. “Let’s see who’s right for the picking!”

A golden portal opened up a few inches in front of the scroll and everyone’s eyes widened. Although some, like Yujin, had their eyes immediately grow to the size of dinner plates before the portal could fully open for a young woman to come walking out. It was as if radiant sunlight draped the new visitor. Long orangey-yellow fabric hung off her arms and the back of her dress while the front stood at her knees. The embroidered cuffs and the top of her strapless dress was an intricate white pattern that matched her shin high cowgirl boots. The most peculiar thing was the thin golden veil that rested on silky black hair. Her presence was sudden and captivating like a woodland sprite from a fairytale. However, one person was in immense awe from knowing exactly who that was.

“LILITH!?” Yujin all but shrieked in a burst of bumbling excitement before everyone looked her way, including the young lady who now lifted her veil to gaze with left sky blue eye and right amber eye. Yujin’s cheeks turned a crazy shade of red while her hands instinctively covered her mouth after her outburst.

Lilith waved. “Ah, looks like I have a fan in the ranks.” She smiled warmer than her dress. She could tell right now that the young girl absolutely wanted to disappear so Lilith chose to not dwell on the moment and addressed everyone. “Hello my future classmates. As several of you may know, I’m Lilith Aspen. A junior this year at Beacon and currently your examiner.”

Jael gave a long and puzzling look. She could’ve sworn she’s seen this person before. “Aren’t you the girl from the cereal box?” She blurts out casually.

To no surprise, several people look at her like she’s crazy for a second. Lilith on the other hand found Jael’s question pretty humorous. “Haha! If that’s how I’m recognized then perhaps I should listen to Professor Port and put more flair into my combat next time I go to regionals.”

“Please don’t.” Glynda said dryly.

“To answer your question properly, yes. I’m the lady on the Pumpkin Pete’s cereal box. Today though, I am the lady telling you all that the next phase of the exam is…an obstacle course!” She gives a very quiet round of applause. “Now I won’t spoil all the obstacles but the premise is simple. You’ll start at one end of Forever Fall and have to make it to the opposite side. You will be timed and there’s cameras everywhere to monitor both progress and safety. Any questions?”

“Is it a race!?” A girl yelled.

“Uh, essentially. All of you do have to start at once. Anything else?”

Tenzen raised his hand. “Are we going through your portal or taking a ship?”

“Hehe, excellent question.” She giggled. “That is all up to you. I imagine most of you, if not all, have brought all your equipment already. Due to the nature of this particular exam however, it also makes sense to be prepared. Forever Fall is still grimm territory at the end of the day. We have prepared an airship to bring you into town for exactly half an hour near all the approved equipment shops if anyone is feeling underprepared. After that you will get back on the ship and it will take you to the test site. Those who feel well equipped…” she stepped aside and gestured to her portal.

An interesting proposal for sure. The groups muttered amongst themselves, thinking of the best solution. The first to move and gain attention again was Jael. The contestants watched in awe as the girl floated over everyone towards the portal.

“She can fly!?” Yujin was beyond amazed. “That’s an awesome semblance!”

“Yujin, your grandma can turn into a bird and your aunt can turn into scattering petals.”

“Hush Tenzen! Multiple things can be cool! Anyways, let’s get going!”

They both followed Jael’s lead. This entire day was prepared ages ago. Tenzen jumped in feet first while Yujin sheepishly waved after Lilith gave another disarming smile. Yujin darted in quickly before she would do something embarrassing again. Many others began to follow their example while others headed towards the ship. Once all the participants got through the portal, Glynda went through.

“Ms. Schnee?”

“You can go ahead and go through.” She pointed at her family and friends. Raven had already made her own portal. Maybe she figured walking over was pointless with Yujin on the other side. “I’ll ride with them.”

“Kay. Heh, what are the odds of two portal users in the same space? I wonder how hers work?”

“I’ll try giving you an opportunity to ask later.” Canary gave a thumbs up and ran off to the heroes. “Hey! Don’t leave me out!”

Raven turned her head. “Wha- you were closer to the other one!”

“Don’t be like that auntie. It’s been ages since I’ve done this. I like the sensation.” Canary walked through the scarier looking portal. “Woooo~”

Canary’s carefree attitude earned a couple of snickers as others went through. “Looks like she’s in a bit of a better mood than earlier.” Winter said.

Ruby had to agree. “Yeah. I’m relieved. I thought I’d ruin her entire day.”

“Please don’t think like that, or let everything she said get to you. I can’t claim to know my daughter's exact feelings towards you currently, but I do know she still loves you a lot. In truth, that’s probably why she’s taken things so personally.”

“I know…” Ruby sighed. Hindsight really is 20/20 at the worst of times. “I’m sure the talk after the exams will be long, but worth it.” Ruby walked through the portal.

Everyone came out on the other side at the edge of Forever Fall’s forest. Medical staff was prepped and ready on the sidelines while a giant red archway signified the starting point. Glynda was already checking the monitor, double checking all the cameras.

Lilith clapped her hands and cried out, “Everyone ready!?” Earning many confused looks from adults and students.

“Umm aren’t we waiting for the people who went into town?” A shy girl asked in the crowd.

“Oh, about that, nope. It was a tactical lie.” Lilith said casually. “Everyone was given notice ahead of time on what they needed to bring. Failure to be prepared upon arrival is willful negligence.”

“Wait…” Marcus spoke up. “Does that mean getting on the airship meant failing!?”

“I’d think less about the choices you didn’t make and more about the road ahead; literally and metaphorically. The obstacles are vast and your path isn’t strict. My tip to all of you is to make use of the open area. Friendly reminder, you are timed. Starting now!”

A loud buzzer signaled the beginning of chaos as the future students began running through the arch and into the forest. Yujin and Tenzen broke free from the pack immediately by going out to the right and then continuing straight.

Tenzen looked at his friend with curiosity. “You following me?”

“Pfft, get real! Going straight is quicker in terms of distance. However…”

“It probably has the most obstacles. I’m practically a ninja though so I’m not worried. What’s your plan exactly?”

“Play it by ear? It’s not like there’s a marked path best suited for me. Plus I’m sure they aren’t only scoring us on time. Lilith’s words were like Canary’s during the first part. They’re intentionally trying to make us think in certain ways in order to mask others.”

Tenzen was amazed how much thought Yujin was putting into this. She was really trying to give it her all today. “Teamwork.”

“Huh?”

“If I had to take a wild guess, they’ll score teamwork. Everything Lilith said stoked competition but if we’re applying for a huntsman school then teamwork is important.”

That made sense to Yujin. If people failed by choosing to go into town then it wouldn’t be surprising if you could fail by willingly ignoring someone in need or intentionally getting in their way. Okay; her mind was made up.

“Tenzen, let’s have each other’s backs! We’ll also stick our nose out for others in trouble.”

“I mean I was going to do that regardless, but sure!” He grinned.

Jael stuck the trees and was in far less of a rush. A single lunge propelled her several feet to one branch after another as she made her way left and outward. Where less people gathered. She had thought of similar things in regards to Lilith's intentions and decided on pacing herself slower than normal. The obstacles could be anything and while she could easily avoid a lot of things, having others encounter them first could give valuable insight.

Back at the start, Canary and the others caught up with Lilith as she watched the monitors. “I never would’ve guessed a girl like you would use a tactical lie as a way to set up a bigger lie. I feel bad for those kids on the ship.”

“Don’t be. I haven’t failed them by any means.” She smiled in satisfaction. “That was the tactical lie, haha!”

“Excuse me!?” Nora questioned. “So what’s your angle!?”

“I could never fail someone who chooses to prepare with time given to them. Just like I acknowledge the readiness of everyone who decided they’re fully prepared.”

“So you did it to gauge personality?”

“A little. By the time the second group arrives this first one will be done. Luckily the split was fairly even. It’s easier to guarantee safety.”

“So this is the mind of the regional's winner? Not bad at all.” Jaune praised.

“Thank you, but it’s more of the mind of an overthinker if you ask me, hehe. Can’t say it makes for an easier grading scale unfortunately. Such is the price of nuance.”

It was an interesting approach to the exam. Those who did poorly in this group may come off as being too cocky or rowdy. On the other hand, failing after having time to prepare is going to look abysmal for those in group two.

Yang greeted Lilith with her scroll and a new journal she planned on giving Yujin. “Hey, my daughter is never going to ask herself but can she please have your autograph and maybe a photo?”

Glynda clicked her tongue. “Is this really the time to be asking for that?”

“It’s a cute surprise. Plus your eyes are glued to the screen. It’s obvious you have the say in finalizing scores. As if you’d give the control to anyone else.” Yang’s words earned a side eye from her old teacher, but she was right!

Lilith happily signed the inside of the book and held up a peace sign for a quick photo. It was hard not to notice how much the famous Yang Xiao Long looked like the girl who called her name. “By any chance, was your daughter-”

“Yes.”

“Hehe, outstanding.”

xxxxxx

“Achoo!!! Eugh!” Yujin sniffled.

“Uh oh. Getting sick on your birthday? That’s no good.”

“Relax. It was probably the leaves or something. I’m firing on all cylinders! Bring on the first obstacle!”

As if the gods heard her, hidden launchers fired hunting nets and bolas! The girl let out an “eep!” Before jumping over bolas aimed at her legs. Her shirt was quickly yanked by Tenzen, allowing her to avoid a net. She quickly returned the favor when she shoved him away from another net fired to her left. It flew right between them and tangled another pair of bolas.

“Phew! That was- ah!” Yujin yelped as Tenzen talked her to the ground and out from under a falling wooden cage.

Tenzen could not believe they set up an entire cage! Not that it would’ve been impossible to escape but come on! “Why do I have a feeling Professor Port was in charge of this section?” He chuckled.”

“Tenzen?”

“Hmm?” He looked down to see the girl staring right at him, her cheeks a little flushed.

“You can…get off of me now if you want.” She awkwardly asked, clearing her throat with a fake and weak cough.

“…Sorry.” He sprang up, extending his hand to help her up. “I guess I could’ve just broken the cage when I think about it.”

“It’s good!” She dusted herself off. “It’s all good. So uh..should we be…?”

“Yeah! Uuh, yeah…”

They both took off running again. Although this time they weren’t as talkative and extra mindful of their surroundings. Hopefully the cameras didn’t catch that particular moment.

Meanwhile in Jael’s neck of the woods, the girl finally touched solid ground and jogged down a path riddled with soft dirt. Left right left right left right left; every step felt good enough. She assumed pits had to be dug around the place.

“Am I getting lucky?” She asked herself. Right left right left right left ri-

Click

“Hmm!?” Jael froze immediately, keeping her right foot exactly where it was after hearing the mechanical click. She hissed softly. “Shit! Pressure plate; but for what?” There was a lot of foliage. It could easily be a trigger for projectiles or a trapdoor. She doubted it was anything explosive. She could raise her foot and found out. That was always an option.

xxxxx

Jacquelyn watched as her daughter stood motionless on the feed. “What’s on the floor?”

“Launching springs.” Glynda said as she monitored multiple kids. “They aren’t as powerful as the ones we use for the first day of school, but they’ll send anyone flying backwards at least 15 feet. More if they’re unprepared for the recoil.”

“That’s rough.”

Raven shrugged. “I see landing strategies are still highly encouraged for the start. Let’s see Jael’s. She can’t stand there forever.”

“They all waited to see how the girl would take this first obstacle. Only her mother expected the girl’s next move. Every witness Jael simply walk off. Anticlimactic for sure but still surprising! Jael stared at the spot she moved from briefly before continuing her jog. A few seconds passed before the springboard triggered forcefully.

“It was delayed.” Winter said, examining the live feed. “And she isn’t changing her path either.”

“Haha, why would she?” Jackie smiled, raising a single brow. “I told you all already. My daughter has amazing control of her semblance.”

xxxxx

Jael freely walked through this section of the course without fear. Hidden pressure plates weren’t so scary when you’re too light to trigger them. And even if she did, a little extra pressure to keep it still until she got off of one was just as easy.

Jael smirked at her own cleverness. She felt sorry for whoever made this obstacle. Clearly they weren’t thinking about her when they made it.

“Today might be easier than I thought.”

[alleyskywalker]

I'd love to hear about:

Guilt (I wouldn't be me if I didn't want to hear about this one lol)

Robb's sad ravens

The Lady Jeyne

Theyne R&J AU

Thank you!

Guilt I talked about here and The Lady Jeyne - here.

Robb's sad ravens is something I'm hoping to maybe finish for Throbb Fortnight! It's kind of hard to talk about without spoilers which would make it less effective, but let's just say it's a canon divergence AU where Theon's defection doesn't happen but Robb and Theon's relationship still…hmmm...hit a snag, let's say. In the present, Robb writes Theon letters as he tries to live with past mistakes and the present/future they've got.

I suppose you were right back then. I am a coward. I can’t face the truth; I can’t face you. Just as I couldn’t do the right thing back then. Not what was expected of me but the right thing.

I hope you know by now that I’ll never forgive myself. Perhaps if I did I could stop writing these useless letters no one has any use for. And perhaps I’m a fool to think you’d forgive me. 

Ned practiced his archery all day while Roslin was gone. I didn’t get a thing done.

I miss you.

Theyne R&J AU is basically what it says! A Theyne fic that's a fusion with the Romeo and Juliet plot, edited slightly for canon. Includes the element of Robb surviving the Red Wedding to be the stand in for Lord C. Jon has somehow become Tybalt. Tris and Patrek are Benvolio and Mercutio, respectively. Paris is…some random Northern lord whose name I haven't settled on. Might be poor Harry Karstark because why not pick on the Karstarks some more lol. Sam was gonna be Friar Lawrence, but now that Jon is Tybalt that's gone out the window and I guess it's gonna be Dagmer, maaaybe? I haven't gotten anywhere near that far in the writing for this 'verse. Like 99% of this possible fic is still in my head. (Are we sensing a theme here with my WIPs? lol) You'd think I have actual theyne written. Instead it's the duel scene xD

"You want to talk shit, Snow, is that it?"

"Patrek, sit down," Theon hissed as Snow stopped abruptly, shoulders tense.

"You Northmen need to learn to get the fuck out of everyone's business with your notions of superiority and self-righteousness ."

He's drunk, Theon thought, distressed. Drunk and full to the brim with grief. This won't end well. He stood and put a hand on Patrek's shoulder, glanced over at Tris for help as Snow stalked back over toward them.

"You have some nerve, Mallister. After everything Robb did for you--"

"Which was what exactly? Prolonged the war on our lands? Got half the people I care about killed? For his own stupidity and pride? We're not Northern subjects anymore. I don't have to lick his ass."

"No, only associate with traitors and murderers like Greyjoy."

"You watch how you speak about my prince," Tris piped up, standing as well.

Theon shot him a despairing look. Not you too. "We're not here to fight," he reminded them, pitching his voice low even as ironborn, riverlanders and northmen from around the tavern began to gather to watch the unfolding scene. Theon gave Patrek's shoulder a good shake. "It's not worth it, Patrek."

WIP Game

[theprincessandherloyalprotector]

“He was very sweet,” I smile softer and then lean back as the dinner is served.

Daemon and Aemma fall into easy conversation as all of you eat, with Rhaenyra watching him nearly the entire time.

He’s so very happy to be home, and settles in quickly, thinking he’ll get to be there a while.

Until the greatest threats are resurgent once more and Daemon is shipped out along with ever soldier King’s Landing has to offer. Including the Velaryon fleets, and everyone else who has pledged their allegiance to the crown.

Daemon fearlessly leads the armies through fight after fight, his only goal being to end the war and get back home to you.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. Months turn into a year. He manages to come home for Yule and spends every waking moment he can with you, only joining Rhaenyra for a visit whenever you’re absolutely too busy to see him. Which is rare.

And then a year turns into two years. Then three. He can never make it home for your birthday, which breaks his heart. How is it fair that he has to send you gifts by a raven or by shipment instead of giving them to you himself?

Sure, you have Yule together each year. But… he loses his birthday. Loses your birthday. None of it is fair. Every time he sees you, he notices how much you have grown since the last time. And each time he is home, he is different as well. His most recent visit was marked by reactions to loud noises and nightmares every other night. He’s quieter. Not as big a jester as he was before. A maturity has been honed in him as if it was forged at the blacksmith as roughly as his sword was. His youth? Gone. Sure, he has his moments and days where he’s happy and joking and playing around, but his exhaustion outweighs the rest some days.

This is now the fourth year he has been at war and the fighting has reached its worst yet. All of his men are dying. Starving. He’s starving. He’s lost more blood than he thought possible but he still pushes forward. His injuries grow by the week, and his body hurts terribly.

It doesn’t help that he’s now sitting in a cave during a rare calm moment, sobbing with his head in his hands. The enemy is recuperating and instead of doing so himself he’s experiencing the harsh snap of his very last straw. His mental stability? Gone. His will to keep going? Gone.

What’s the point? He won’t be able to come home this year. He won’t be able to see you. At all. Every year he’s managed a small visit but the war has officially gotten too bad.

Caraxes stays curled up outside the cave to look out, whining softly every few minutes as Daemon just continues to wail.

When his sadness dissipates into madness and a frightening numbing feeling, he spends ten minutes beating the shit out of some dead guy in the cave with him, until his knuckles are bloody.

And then, once he’s at the brink of exhaustion, he grabs his journal and starts to write you a letter. His hand shakes and fucks up his handwriting but he couldn’t care. It won’t get any better anyway. He continues to write even as he has to look at his writing through tear-blurred vision.

My darling wife,

The war has reached a new height of violence that I admit I’ve never seen before. My days are full of blood, sweat, death, and fear. I often fall asleep wondering if I will rise to see another day.

It pains me beyond explanation that I must stay. I cannot come home for Yule. Our forces are too depleted and victory too vital for the safety of the kingdom.

I am so sorry, Lilium. Please do not be angry with me. Please. If I had any say in the matter I would be home with you right now, far away from this wretched, hopeless wasteland. I am so sorry.

Please give everyone a hug for me. Please pray for me. I did not consider myself religious but I do not think I can hold up much longer in these conditions.

I hope to see you so soon. I miss you so very much. So much it aches. And it’s not just my injuries, it’s in my chest. My heart. My soul.

I am so sorry.

I love you with everything I have.

- Daemon

He sobs harder as he rolls to the paper and ties it tight with a small rope he found before forcing himself to his feet.

Caraxes studies Daemon and gently nudges him with his snout, whimpering again.

“W-We cannot go h-home, old boy,” Daemon sniffles. “Go… go lick your wounds if- if you need. I’ll tend to mine later.”

He limps out of the cave and delivers the letter to the boy who typically runs them for the soldiers before moving back to Caraxes.

When the letter arrives at King’s Landing, Dina slowly walks it down the hall, terrified for you to see what’s inside. Because… upon glancing at the outside of the letter and holding it…

Blood crusts the paper, staining it in dark puddles here and there. And it’s so dirty. If the letter has been through hell and back to get here, what has Daemon gone through?

“My Lady?” She asks quietly as she enters the chambers. “I… I have a letter…”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Fourteen

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Violence, Fluff (if you squint)

Word Count: 2K

A/n: Lol disappears for two months them comes back like nothing happened. Also I seem to have forgotten how to write so if this is weird and yucky I am very sorry uwu don’t be mad at me

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

Your meetings with the raven-haired prince have increased in frequency since that first night, until it is a nightly occurrence, one that the prince finds himself looking forward to, against his better judgment.

After the blond king is fast asleep, you slowly exit his chambers and make your way through the palace.

“Your Majesty, it is with all due respect that I ask you, but what are your intentions with the young prince?” You lift your eyes to Brunnhild then continue on your way to the Gardens.

“It's as you said,” you begin, voice a hushed whisper.

“I have the blood of my mother running through my veins. She did not die for me to sit and allow these men to continue to use me the way that they do. I have more power within me than they could imagine. And I intend to use it, if not to save the kingdoms, then to save myself. To capture the predator you cannot remain the prey.”

She presses her lips together in a thin line and nods, watching as you exit the palace and enter the gardens, the light of the moon illuminating you in an ethereal glow.

“I was wondering if you’d come join me again.” A smile finds its way to your lips.

“Why wouldn't I?” Loki watches you for a long moment, his arms crossed over his chest.

“My brother is enjoying you, is he not?” You grind your teeth together and say nothing, eyes finding the moon.

“You have kept this charade going for so long. Why? Why have you not made the next move in your plan yet?” He purses his lips and takes a few steps towards you, one of his hands finding the curve of your waist.

“There are many delicate pieces that need to be positioned just right before any major moves can be made.” He’s standing directly in front of you, his eyes trained on yours.

“The stars have aligned and the moon is full. My brother is lost in his obsession and the Kings are far too focused on trying to get you back to realize that their own council is plotting against them yet again. The time for movement is now, and I must act fast.” Your brows furrow, one piece of information sticking out like a sore thumb, a question that’s been burning in your mind for several days now.

“How have you managed to turn their own council against them?” He only chuckles, two fingers coming to lift your chin up.

“Nobody fully believes in a monarch. Those thoughts are easy to pick apart and turn into full-blown distrust and betrayal.” Your eyes flutter closed as he leans down, his lips very nearly brushing yours as he tilts your chin up more.

“My next move, darling, involves you. And I must apologize in advance for it.” You slowly open your eyes, your face contorting as a white-hot pain erupts in your abdomen.

Your eyes find his, a million questions in them as he presses the blade into your torso, an amused smile on his face as you draw in a shaky breath.

Your hand finds the hilt of the dagger, knees buckling then giving out, making you fall to the ground in a heap.

He crouches down to eye level, tilting your head up with feather-light fingers again.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me, dearest petal. It’s nothing personal, I assure you, but the only way to ensure things go according to plan. Once my brother hears of your death he’ll wage a war on Acadia without looking at the facts. And then it’s only a matter of time before the Kingdoms become mine.”

He pushes your shoulders, forcing you onto your back then steps over your body and towards the palace, leaving you alone and bleeding in the gardens, the stark white light of the moon illuminating the red dripping from your body.

It pools on the ground, a stain, an impurity.

Just like you.

You swallow hard, shaking the thought from your head.

You’ve been through far too much to give up now.  

“H-help!” You call weakly, struggling to your knees, one hand holding your wound while the other grabs onto the edge of the garden fountain.

“Someone!” Your voice is soft, far softer than it should be, and for a moment you’re afraid that this is the end. Your fate is to die alone in the garden of yet another traitorous home, one where you were not welcome.

“Your Majesty?” You look up desperately, reaching out as Brunnhild rushes towards you.

“Your Majesty! What has happened?” You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath as she helps you sit down on the lip of the fountain.

“Prince Loki,” you spit, moving your hand and revealing your wound.

“The prince... did this?” You nod, your brows drawn together in discomfort.

“Someone get the King! Quickly!” She shouts. You shake your head, pressing your hand back against your wound and forcing yourself to your feet.

The fate of the two kingdoms is in your hands. You’re not going to sit around and wait for a man to save you. Not anymore.

“The king will be of no help. I need medical assistance, now.” She looks up at you then nods, supporting most of your weight as you hobble through the palace, avoiding the populated hallways and sticking to the shadows.

She pushes into what must be her chambers and sits you by the fire, pushing your cape off of your shoulders and inspecting the wound.

“I’ll need to call for the doctor,” She whispers, stepping towards the door.

You grab her wrist, blood smearing on her tanned skin.

“No. We haven’t time for that.”

There are rushed noises from just past the door, and you know that the King has called for something rash.

“But your Majesty, the wound needs tending.” You grind your teeth together and look up at her then over to the fire.

“Then tend to it.”

She furrows her brows before nodding.

Her fingers work quickly as she cuts the fabric away from your body then hands it to you.

“You’ll want it. For the pain.” A curt nod is all you give her before shoving the material between your teeth.

She gives you no warning before yanking the dagger free from your body, replacing it with the scalding hot blade of her own, now removed from the fire.

The pain all rolls together into something that nearly pulls you from consciousness, nothing but fire and agony.

But your anger keeps you awake. The fury burns brighter than the flames Loki plans to set to the kingdoms. It fuels you, keeps you strong when she finally pulls the heat from your skin.

She covers the area in an ointment then some gauze, shaking her head at you.

“What do you plan to do?”

You grit your teeth and wipe your hair from your sweaty forehead.

“I plan on stopping the destruction of the Kingdoms. Loki has begun a war. He’s inside King Thor’s head. His magic is powerful, and Thor will not see the truth. Your loyalties lie with your King, and I understand, but I need to ask a few favours before we part ways. It’s only a matter of time before he calls you to march.”

You’re surprised he hasn’t called the Valkyrie yet.

Brunnhild grabs your hand tightly and squeezes, her eyes blazing.

“My loyalties lie with you, Your Majesty. The only person whose mind isn’t clouded by greed or magic. The Valkyrie will follow you into battle. We will fight with you. For you. You have our swords, and anything else you may need.”

Your heart swells and you give her hand a squeeze.

“Thank you. Now, we must prepare. A battle awaits.”

~*~

“Your Majesties! We have urgent news from Asgard!” Natalia exclaims, bursting into the Kings’ office.

The two look up upon her entrance, waiting for her to say whatever it is that is so important.

Wanda and Sam are at her side, the former looking on with anguish in her eyes while the latter has nothing but anger in his.

“What is it?” James demands.

Natalia takes a deep breath and looks between the two kings.

“The Queen is dead. Killed in the garden. They believe it to have been a spy from Acadia. Asgard marches at dawn tomorrow.”

A million different thoughts pass through the Kings’ heads, before finally settling on the very first sentence she spoke.

The Queen is dead.

Their Queen. The woman they chose so specifically. The woman meant to raise their children and rule at their side. The woman who has never known the tenderness that she deserves.

Dead. Because they weren’t more careful of who was in their court. Who they trusted.

“You’re certain of this?” Steve asks, his voice choked and broken. It feels like every beat of his heart is a knife digging into his chest, every breath he takes is filling his lungs with water, or maybe nails.

It’s agony.

And James isn’t any better.

His mind races at all the ways he could’ve prevented this. If he had just been stronger, smarter. If he had waited to marry, or perhaps if he had spent more time searching for his husband.

A thousand different ways to have stopped this, yet the reality is that he didn’t. He didn't stop it. Didn’t prevent it.

Hell, he practically walked you right into it.

Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in his palace.

And now a war is on the horizon.

“We had riders sent to verify. They’re preparing their attack. We haven’t much time if we wish to meet them. We cannot let them breach the walls of the Kingdom. The village is weak enough as is, we cannot allow a fight to even come near it,” Sam urges, taking a step deeper into the office.

Steve composes himself faster than his husband.

“Alert all able-bodied men. Gather them, arm them. We march as soon as possible.”

The two warriors nod their agreement then turn and exit, leaving Wanda alone with the Kings.

“Your Majesties. I-I’m sorry for your loss. I was hoping I could... pay my respects to the Queen? I know a battle awaits, but she has known little friendship in her life. The least I can do is reach to her now, as should’ve been done when she was still with us.”

They both nod easily at the request.

“What did you have in mind? We do not have much we can spare, and the men will be gathered by nightfall. We’ll have to leave as soon as possible in order to protect the women and children.”

She nods, taking a deep but shaky breath.

“I was hoping to go into the village, release lanterns for her. I-I don’t know if she’d like it, but the day she went out with Thor she really made an impact on the people. I know it would bring comfort, especially with a battle looming so close.”

The Kings look at each other, discussing her request silently, before nodding.

“Yes. But everyone must be back in their house before the sunrise.” She nods eagerly, bows, then scurries out of their office to gather supplies.

Steve slumps back in his seat, trying to fight tears but they stab at his eyes.

“Who would do this? Certainly not one of ours,” he whispers, suffocating his anguish with anger instead.

“When we last saw her, she spoke of Loki, of his magic. He wishes to corrupt the Kingdoms, he’s already done so with Asgard...” James trails off, shaking his head as sorrow burrows into his soul.

Perhaps it’s what he deserves.

After all that he’s done, all the pain he’s inflicted. Not only upon you but upon others as well.

Losing you, his wife, the woman he’s been waiting for for several years... that is true pain.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t avenge you.

And avenge you, he will.

[justfangirlthingies]

The prince of lies (Loki x reader)

Soulmate AU: Every time your soulmate lies, their words are permanently written on your skin

Word count: 3140 Words

I think this is the last Soulmate one that I have on Wattpad as of right now

Father is dead. Your banishment... The threat of a new war...it was too much for him to bear. You mustn't blame yourself. I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn't listen.

The truce with Jotunheim is conditional  upon your exile

Mother has forbidden your return

This is goodbye brother, I'm so sorry

Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service

I'M NOT YOUR BROTHER I NEVER WAS!

I don't know what happened on earth to make you so soft! Don't tell me it was that woman?... Oh, it was. Well, when we're done here, maybe I'll pay her a visit myself!

You're not

(etc. more lies)

Lies...

Every single one of them. How did you know? Well, because they were printed all over your body.

Every single lie your soulmate ever told up until now graced your (s/c) skin.

How was a liar like that supposed to be a soulmate for you? Someone you could trust?

Yes, your so called soulmate would never be able to lie to you, for as soon as he tried the lie would appear on your skin. Had they only been some minor white lies, that would've probably been fine by you, but looking at the severity of those lies you could only shake your head in disbelief and sorrow for whoever had received those news.

Now ignoring the fact that those statements were lies, there were other aspects that made absolutely no sense. Those you had already researched quite a bit . Jotunheim for a start was a mythical place and the lies stated that apparently the liar and his brother were not from earth, which was complete nonsense was it not? Otherwise he had to be some kind of alien.

You were interrupted in the middle of your thought-process.

I missed you too

A new lie, gracing your forearm. Though this one seemed rather small and harmless, this man was still lying through his teeth and you had to carry every single one of those lies. How often had you been asked why your body was full of lies. Yet you never had an answer to those questions. He was your soulmate, even if he was a liar he had to be good somewhere, right?

Aliens and beings from other worlds did exist though. Thor the god of thunder and the events of New York city. Did they have soulmates as well? They had to, otherwise the statements on your features made even less sense.

But who?

Who would lie so much?

The thoughts in your head kept floating around as you got ready to meet up with your friend Anthony.

You started walking to a nearby park. Your usual meeting point, as you felt yet another familiar tingle. Pushing it to the back of your head in hopes of ignoring it, you kept walking towards your friend and hugged him "It's good to see you" you smiled but only got a confused stare in return "What?" "You uh...got a new one there, a long one." A sigh escaped your lips at the reply of Anthony. "Well, where? And does it at least make sense?" Your friend just shook his head as he took a picture of the lettering on your collarbone "No, but here. Maybe you can understand some of this. It looks like sarcasm this time." He gave you his phone to look at the picture. Great another one.

Wait? Sarcasm? One thing you had to give your soulmate credit for were his snarky remarks, at least those sometimes put a smile on your face. You zoomed in on your collarbone as you read what was engraved on the previously clear space of (s/c) skin.

You know this is wonderful! This a tremendous idea! Let's steal the biggest most obvious ship in the universe and escape in that! Flying around the city, smash it into everything in sight and everyone will see it! It's brilliant Thor! It's truly brilliant...

Thor?! You could not believe your eyes. Whoever your soulmate was knew Thor. It was a shock and a relief as well. If he was friends with this god he couldn't be so bad, could he? You did however, question why Thor would spend time, let alone steal some kind of spaceship with this person.

"I see. I can't say I understand what it's about, but whoever this liar of mine is, seems to be friends with Thor..." The words left your mouth as you handed the phone back to your dear friend. The two of you sat down on a wooden bench underneath a tree, but when you heard Anthony speak up, your mind went blank "He could also be Thor's brother, doesn't that one lie a lot?" It took you a few moments to fully comprehend what he meant "No, that'd be impossible, that man is sitting behind bars for the rest of his life. Besides, that guy is evil. My soulmate could never possibly be a bad person." that last part was a lie. Your soulmate was a liar, he could easily be a bad person, you just hoped with all your might that he wasn't"

■ ■ ■

"Trust my rage" the god of mischief spoke. Just as he had finished his sentence he felt a tingle on his wrist. A rare occasion if it was a real lie, usually it was just a sarcastic comment which most of the time he enjoyed quite a bit. These sarcastic statements often caused a small smile to appear on his face, the few nice moments that made the time in his cell more bearable, not only did he find them funny and witty, they also stood for his soulmate, for someone that was destined for him and also that he was a perfect fit for whoever this soulmate was. He looked at his bare wrist expectantly, waiting for one of the snarky remarks that his soulmate had spoken to appear. When it did appear though, it broke his heart. His cold expression fell for a second as he looked at the writing on his wrist. Quickly regaining his cold exterior before anyone would notice. It was too late though. His brother had seen the trickster's face falter just in time and he had also seen what Loki was staring at. Before the raven-haired could pull his hand back he felt it had already been grabbed "Let go of me Thor!"

"Brother, just let me see!" Thor replied loudly, he wanted to know what this was about. Loki looked away in shame as he let his brother read what his soulmate had said. My soulmate could never possibly be a bad person. As he finished reading he loosened his grip on the other's hand, allowing Loki to finally pull his hand back "I'm sorry" he muttered. "They think I'm a monster too..." The black haired god whispered as he sat down in the small ship, his stone cold exterior dropping by the second. Was a soulmate not meant to understand? Was there really no hope for him?

"Loki..."

"Stop it. Don't pity me for something that's my own fault!" he screamed. He just needed a moment to calm down.

■ ■ ■

"How is this possible? How do I deal with this? I can't just ignore it can I? No" before you knew it you found yourself in front of a massive building. Stark tower. Your (e/c) eyes stared at the monument in awe, but you soon shook your head in order to resume your task. "Enter the tower and talk to the avengers on how to communicate with Thor. You have to do this because Thor knows your soulmate..." you repeated in your head as you entered the building...

...or so you thought.

In the blink of an eye you were consumed by light and gone from where you stood. Was that some kind of security system Stark invented?

Your eyes fluttered open just to see some old man on a throne before your sight went black and your body dropped to the ground unconscious.

■ ■ ■

"Are you certain Heimdall?" the king asked, looking at the unconscious human, who was now dressed to fit the Asgardian culture. He was inspecting some of the tattoos on their body "You were right they definitely are his soulmate. Though they seem to be a rather honest person, for Loki does not have as many markings on him. As far as I know at least"

What were they talking about? Who were these people, why did they speak of you in a connection to Loki, it made no sense. None at all. You tried to look like you were still passed out.

But apparently you failed in your acting. "The human is awake" a different voice spoke. Maybe it belonged to this Heimdall person.

A sigh of defeat left your lips as you opened your eyes. You tried to take in your surroundings when suddenly, your eyes went wide from the sensation on your skin.

You sighed as you waited for the writing to appear on one of your upper arms. "Oh boy this is a long one" You muttered underneath your breath, but it seems Odin had heard, for he raised an eyebrow as his eyes followed your gaze to your arm which you had uncovered from the strange clothing you were dressed in. The king had taken a hold of your arm to read your words.

You really think I cared about Frigga? About any of you? All I ever wanted was you and Odin dead at my feet! Malekith! I am Loki of Jotunheim and I bring you a gift! I ask only one thing in return, a good seat from which to watch Asgard burn.

"Fools!" Odin shouted.

Meanwhile you thought your eyes were about to pop out of their sockets as you tried to comprehend the meaning behind those words. The only thing you could focus on however, was the name etched in your skin. His name. Loki.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the Allfather spoke up again "Send guards to Svartálfheimr and retrieve my sons! Bring the Aether back if it's still there!"

His sons?

It was at that moment. Realisation hit you like a bus. You were in Asgard and this man before you had to be Odin then. Your brows furrowed. Why were you here? How did you get here?

"Come. You must have many questions." The king said as you got up and followed him "I am Odin of Asgard. Tell me child what is your name?" "M-my name is (Y/n) (L/n). How-how did I get here?" you stuttered as you looked around still walking. "I gave orders to bring you here" He replied casually.

■ ■ ■

The Jotun prince laid on the ground panting as his brother cradled him in his strong arms "No. No, no, no. Oh, you fool, you didn't listen." "I know." Loki spoke, his voice quiet and weak "I'm a fool. I'm a fool." he gasped in pain. "Stay with me, okay?" The god of thunder spoke close to tears as he pat the other's face to keep him conscious. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" the young god apologized gasping for air but he was quickly shushed by his brother "shhh...it's okay" Thor nodded as tears welled up in his blue eyes. "It's all right. I'll tell father what you did here today" He spoke again the tears now making their way down his cheeks. "I didn't do it for him" The raven haired spoke calmly. As he took his dying breath he spoke his last words "Tell them, I didn't want to be a monster" Just like that the god closed his eyes and went limp in his brother's arms. "NOOO!" Thor shouted in pain and hugged Loki. "I will find them and tell them in your stead brother" He whispered into the other's ear before he let go and left with Jane. Loki's limp body was left in the sand and dirt.

■ ■ ■

"I take it, you know who your soulmate is,  judging by your reaction. It must certainly be hard to carry all the lies of the god of mischief and lies" Odin raised his eyebrow. "I have heard quite a few stories about him indeed." You replied taking a sip of your tea. You were seated in the throne room across from Odin as he tried to answer some of your questions.

In the middle of your conversation a guard entered and as soon as he spoke up you felt a burning and tingling just underneath your chest.

"Forgive me my liege. I've returned from the Dark World with news. " The guard spoke.

"Thor?" Odin asked with hope. The guard dropped his head a bit at that "There was no sign of Thor or the weapon, but..." As soon as the man spoke up again the tingling began once again in the same place as before. "What?" the Allfather asked.

The tingles continued "We found a body."

Silence filled the air for a moment before Odin spoke "Loki"

The guard just looked at his king with sad eyes. The burning had stopped. "Thank you. Bring this one..." The old king pointed at you "...to Heimdall. Tell him to return them to Midgard. Then you may be dismissed for the day."

Your chin dropped as the guard nodded and turned to you. Oh now you were definitely not going to tell the god that Loki was alive and lying. He grabbed you roughly and brought you out of the throne room and to another room, the room you had woken up in. "Gather your belongings mortal before you return to Midgard." Midgard? Was that what they called earth. As the guard was about to close the door you shouted after him "Mister guard man! Wait!" He raised an eyebrow at you, seemingly amused, but he waited for you to speak nonetheless and so you did "Loki can't be dead." He stared at you confused "Well he is."

Another tingle. This time on your finger, but you ignored it for now seeing as you were focused on the conversation you were having "No. I don't think you understand. I-I know he is alive. I can feel it." A small smile was placed on your lips as the man before you began to laugh, he seemed curious though "And how would a little mortal like you know that? Oh you feel it, of course"

"I-I don't know how I know" That was a lie for you did know why and how "I just know." You finished, he seemed distracted though. While the guard was distracted you took a moment to look at the side of your pinkie finger. "No." You mumbled when you realized the man before you was your soulmate, disguised as a guard. "What?" The man asked. "Nothing" you lied, a small smile on your lips. You were scared yes, but he wouldn't hurt his own soulmate, now would he? "Would you please come in and close the door Loki?~" You asked innocently.

His eyes went wide, confused as to how a simple human like you could look through his disguise with such ease. So he complied. He didn't really have a choice now. As he closed the door, he dissolved his disguise. Green smoke surrounded the man as Loki the trickster god stood before you now. He was stunning. Yes there was a deep hatred for this man inside you, but he did something good today and you hadn't met him before. Well not personally, you had however seen him on TV as he tried to take over the world, you had heard he was under some kind of mind control though. "You are a curious little thing, aren't you?" Loki spoke as he approached you "Who are you and how did you know it was me mortal?"

You grinned "I'm no one important to you" Your smile widened as you noticed him being distracted again. You watched in awe as your statement appeared on the back of his hand.

The black haired god stared at you in disbelief "No...no no no no. How? That's not possible" Before you realized what was happening he was already too close for comfort. He grabbed one of your arms and shoved up your sleeves. Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service. Disbelief filled Loki's eyes as they pierced your own gaze. He let go of your hand as some kind of hatred but also hope filled his eyes "You hate me. You think I'm a monster." He spoke with clenched teeth. He was trying to compose himself, to seem calm, but you easily looked through his disguise. "I do not" You replied, your (e/c) eyes were soft as you looked at him. He stood there, waiting for the tingling and burning somewhere on his pale body. But the feeling never came. You had been truthful. "I know better than to lie to my soulmate." The words escaped your throat before you could even think. "Why did you say it then?!" The god growled. "Said wha-" The mischievous man cut you off "My soulmate could never possibly be a bad person" he quoted your lie "what changed?"

"I-I" you were speechless "I said that, knowing that anyone could be my soulmate, I tried to convince myself to see things positively. I did not know it would affect you as it was about soulmates in general. I am sorry for causing you pain Loki"

"So you don't think I'm a bad person?" he asked, turning your words around "I do know of the bad things you did. You tried to take over my home. I cannot confirm that you are a completely bad person though. I-I don't know you well enough to judge. For I try to build my opinion when I get to know people myself, even if this person is the prince of lies. Besides, you can't be too bad if you are my soulmate, at least not towards me" You grinned, reaching out your hand for him to shake "I'm (Y/n) by the way."

Loki looked at your hand, a smirk on his lips as he held your hand in his and brought it up to his lips to press a small kiss against the back of it. His eyes never leaving yours as a blush took over your features "It is a pleasure to meet you (Y/n). My name is Loki and I do not think I'll send you off to Midgard just yet, if ever..." The last two words were not meant for you to hear but you did. "Before we get to know each other better my soulmate~" he smirked "I have to take care of my father and brother." He turned around and walked towards the door "You stay here for now" the man winked at you before he turned himself into the guard again and left the room.

[daily-dose-of-writing]

Hey guys, posting another one of my short stories for those five people who enjoy them. Can I get a wahoo for those guys?!

Inspired by that post about how lonely human beings are.

———

T h e L o n e l y R a c e

People often forget purely how enormous space is, and therefore just how far apart each bundle of rock and dust and life sits. People forget that space is called space because that is exactly what it is.

Space is endless, thundering silence. An empty blank canvas of nothingness, like a bedroom in the depth of the night, when you open your eyes and for a moment, your mind slips into a blissful fugue, in which you wonder who you are and why you are lying down, whether or not you are truly awake. Then when you look around and there is nothing to see, and the room is drowning in the tick of a watch and the hush of your breath — that is surely far too loud to your own ears — and the rushing of blood that washes over you in a declaratory pounding like a far-away orchestra; the only thing reminding you that you’re alive. Space is a void, filled with the tangible loneliness of everything and everyone who has ever been and is now gone. Space is where you are forgotten.

For many years, as long as anyone can remember, we were alone. We were the only ones in the endless darkness that stretched away from our brightly-lit little planet like unfurling hands, clawing it’s way through the universe. But then came the humans.

It was gone a century ago now that we came upon the object; it drifted through the dark, floating almost aimlessly like something abandoned, tired. It beeped eerily, lost in a galaxy ever so far from where it had originally been flung into the darkness from. Despite its lack of sentience, the footage we took of it radiated heartache, as if it had failed to reach out and touch the universe. It was not until later that we discovered just how much this was a mirror of its creators.

We sent vessels out to capture the object, which we were unaware at the time whether or not it contained life, or was even something of interest and rather not just space debris floating it’s merry way until it was eventually lost to the darkness.

It was in fact rather enormous, much more so than we initially realised; with great metal wings spiralling from its bulk like glistening hands, looking for something to clutch on to. Despite various troubles, it was swiftly brought into port, where a diverse array of scientists were unleashed upon it like the ravenous blood hounds of knowledge and exploration.

Years passed before we were able to decode the database and convert the files to a format that matched our own technology — the creators technology was far primitive to our own, although it was likely that by that point it was hundreds of years old, so perhaps they really weren’t too far behind us after all.

Tensions had been growing between two of our largest nations, and therefore our world scientific organisation felt that the results of their discoveries should be broadcast all across the world, in the hope of uniting the squabbling politicians through the aspiration of finding a new world, so that we would no longer be alone on our tiny, overcrowded planet, without neighbours.

The day they were finally ready to do as much, the air was thick with condensation and a dull roar of wind chased the steady drizzle of rain from the somber clouds and dashed it against the clouded glass windows of the houses in my settlement, where the milky tears leaked through the cracks and pooled on the sill, staining the wood slightly yellow. A spacecraft hovered above us, bobbing softly on the waves of wind and rain. It was an old informant vessel, the types most often used in the past for emergency government speeches or the breaking news that we had gone to war yet again, so to have it used in such a hopeful manner felt almost like healing old wounds.

The screen fizzled into life with a pop and a click, and all of a sudden we were presented with the face of a scientist. They were only recognisable as such by their dull, purpose-built garments displaying the emblem of the official government section that had been fabricated under the sole principle of studying the object.

“Good afternoon.” Their voice was worried around the edges, nerve-chapped despite its flat tone, and displaying the enormity of their anxiety despite their quite obvious attempt to hide it.

“The first file we have managed to decrypt appears to be an audio recording, and despite the advise of our governing body, no one has, as of yet, heard what is on it. In the case that it is a recording of speech, we have managed to interpret some of their given language, but it may still be,” they paused, their face contorted and gaunt, the mortified expression of a being expecting utter disappointment or perhaps even complete chaos, they breathed, “a little choppy here and there.”

Someone off camera must have, at that point, made a remark, or perhaps prompted them on, as their eyes flicked upward and the feathers at the base of their neck prickled with irritation.

“Yes, so,” they cleared their throat again, clearly rather agitated, “We shall now begin the recording.”

Whatever I was expecting, that was not it. Music swelled through the air, reverberating through the rain and swallowing up the air. It was not the sort of music that we were accustomed to, but much the same as war, music is a universal language.

The notes built to a crescendo and moved with avid fluidity, as though it were its own being, brought alive by the unopposed splendour of the world that listened to it, apprehensive breaths caught in their throats, soon to become relived sighs or gasps of joy.

It was then that I realised purely how lonely the creators of the object were, as a species, that once they realised that there was something beyond their sky, that there was a great expanse, a plane of endless blackened emptiness, they still hoped that perhaps there was someone or something out there that would listen to their songs and their stories like the parents of young children who spoke fervent, tall tales of monsters in the fields and the forests nearby. How alone must a species be to send their songs and their dances into the sky, to plead to be found, to long for new contact as though they were frenzied for it, as though life beyond their own was to them as water is to a parched man.

It made me wonder, with all of their desperation, what it was that they were trying to replace; what it was that left them alone in the first place. I thought about the object, treading its resigned path through the emptiness of space, lost to itself and it’s home, fearful that there would be no hand on the other side of the darkness to shake. It made me think that someone so lonely deserves to be found.

I joined the crew of a research vessel a month after that, as their astronomer. The craft was bound for the planet they had identified as the origin, its name translated to “dirt”, but I was certain that it’s true name had merely been lost in translation, as nothing so ardently beautiful could have a name so bland.

I knew that I would possibly never reach the destination; i was not young any longer, and they were very far away, but I only hoped that I could meet the people who were so lonely, that I could see the looks on their faces when we told them that they were not alone, that we had heard their songs, and their poems, and that we were merely there to say hello.

Even with our swift ships, the journey was arduous, yet a community was born and raised amongst the crew who knew they would have only each other for the rest of their lives, and the ship became a place of camaraderie and a general cheerful nature. I almost forgot the toils of the humans — as we had come to know them — amongst my happiness.

I would watch them through the telescope each morning. It was a funny thing, we were getting ever closer to them and at extremely high speeds, and so each morning I watched them change and evolve into something slightly different from the day before. I watched empires rise and fall, war and destruction, and with every step they took, all I saw was bone-deep anguish. I recognised that very loneliness that had driven me onto this ship in each of their actions, trying with a desperate fervour to make allegiance with their fellows.

I was old now, and we were not far from our destination. An entirely new crew had been born aboard the ship and children and youngsters milled around the ship, and it was filled with their laughter and song. My bones creaked and my skin was a translucent sort of blueish grey, even my feathers now wore thin. I knew I was not much longer for this universe, but I wished that I would get to meet the people who had inspired such love from within me. The human species. The lonely race.

I checked the telescope again, letting my eyes slip onto the well-moulded eyepieces and take in that days spectacle. Their spacecraft had evolved significantly since the day before, and something deep inside of me whispered, perhaps they will meet us in the middle.

I did not fear for my death, I had had a wonderful life, thanks in part to the humans we would soon meet, and I no longer feared for humanity, either, as I knew that it would be soon that we were upon their planet.

Through the telescope I watched, and I smiled. Soon, they would not be so lonely any more.

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Something else I haven't seen before. What would the MC's parent from each background think of the ROs? Who would they approve of and who wouldn't they? I guess in the case of orphan MC, what would E's parents think? Since they kinda maybe vaguely adopted orphan MC?

Hmm, interesting! Since I did the opposite, I should have seen this one coming haha

-----------------------

Storm's comments:

E: "Rose has had that expectation for some time. This is preferable to the alternative. I know you will be in good hands. Rose raised them well."

R: Your father doesn't mince his words, a clear disdain evident, "Valleford. See that you don't take after your father, or there will be less than pleasantries next time we meet."

L: "Scio. I assume your father...?" Storm's lips pull in a small frown as L gives a small nod of confirmation, "I understand if you cannot forgive me. Your father is a significant asset to the Hospian war effort. If I find him, I will kill him."

V: "You've seen enough at your age," Storm says quietly, looking into the hollow glint in V's eyes, "I'm sorry. Those were battles that should have ended with my generation, not yours."

P: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, "I assume your father is well? He does not speak of his second child often, but you seem more spirited than the other. That will make the greater difference when it matters."

M: Storm's brow furrows as he makes a cordial greeting, though there's little sentimentality in his voice, "I assume your father is well? He expresses confidence in your upbringing, but I can't say I share the sentiment. You lack something fundamental. Something to drive you to achieve more than what's expected of you."

Ra: Storm's eyes lock onto Raven with a harsh intensity, "Your eyes are filled with blood and you conceal weapons. Tell me your intentions or I will kill you right now."

S: "I admit I am unfamiliar with Orden. The conflict never reached that country, but I understand there are many hardships there already," Storm says, looking the brightly grinning student up and down before his lips pull back in small contentment, "You come out better than most. You have impressive strength."

F: Storm holds a frown as he takes in the vivid green hair, "Many allowed Frenza to claim their distance due to their significant contribution to Triaina's independence, but it doesn't absolve you of everything," he says in warning, "Don't step over the boundaries you've been afforded, or the military will have no choice but to respond."

------------------------------

Scurra's dialogue:

E: Scurra makes a grimace as he recognizes E, "Damnit, you've gone and done it now," he grumbles as he pulls out his wallet and hands a fold of bills to E, "Give that to your mom, will you? She's worse than a debt collector with bets..."

R: "Valleford! There's a name I haven't heard in a while. I knew they had a black sheep in the family, but I guess they couldn't take away the infamous good looks," Scurra chuckles, his eyes lightening reminiscently, "They've put me in a good bit of trouble on more than one occasion. I guess I should consider it a family curse now that MC is involved with you."

L: "Oh, I know those eyes," Scurra says wistfully, "Coming to find the world is a bigger place than you imagined, aren't you? It's even more expansive than that, too. I had that same look when I traveled overseas. I hope MC is being a good guide for you," he looks to you, and gives a knowing wink.

V: Scurra gives a meandering hum as he looks at V, "I've been all around, but I've only seen natural hair color like that a handful of times. They all had your same stare, too." He closes his eyes thoughtfully, "None as young as you though. I hope you're the last I have to see with those eyes. They're a bad omen."

P: "A fiery one, aren't you! Has no one ever told you not to say bad words in public?" Scurra laughs, "You should stop while you can. You're so transparent with your feelings that I almost mistook you for a window, so there's no point to pulling a tough act."

M: A small, genuine smile rises on Scurra's lips as he inspects M, "How interesting. You're so similar to your twin, but you're definitely the better actor. As I think about it, you remind me of MC's mother in many ways..."

Ra: "What are you doing here?" Scurra frowns, staring harshly at Raven. A silence passes and eventually he looks away, messaging his jaw, "Oops, guess I was mistaken. You looked a little like someone I know."

S: "You've got Orden written all over you, don't you?" Scurra says cheerily, "It's been a while since I've visited, but I have to say it gave me the most enjoyment. You all certainly know how to keep it lively."

F: "Your family has always been so hauty!" Scurra covers his mouth to suppress a chuckle, "But I think it would be a mistake to talk down to everyone you meet. I happen to be on great terms with your mother. If I took the opportunity, you two would have been siblings!"

------------------------

Xero's insight:

E: He smiles warmly to E, "It's good to see you again. I'm afraid there was little I could do for you: your mother has already found out about your relationship. I expect she'll make it as embarrassing for you as possible, if I know her well. I hope you're mentally prepared."

R: Xero studies R with a faint curiosity, "I'm afraid your father and I are on less than speaking terms due to some...past difficulties, but I understand you are more than simply your father's child. You may be villianized for your differing viewpoint, but aren't we all? I don't find it is so bad," Xero gives R a knowing small."

L: Xero's eyes widen upon seeing L, then falls into a soft smile, "To think history would repeat so aptly. To see you two now reminds me of my own school days," Xero closes his eyes and releases a light sigh, the smile still present, "I pray you'll also find the same happiness I did, and that it lasts longer."

V: Xero's grip tightens on an file in his hands as he sees V, his voice meticulous, "You are...Wolfe, correct? I'll admit the what I've heard and read of you is...less than appealing, but," he casts his gaze between you and the ex-Jagd member, a faint smile growing on his lips as V steps cautiously between you. "You seem to have a strong sense of duty. I hope you will be a good pillar for MC."

P: He looks disaprovingly, "In my field, words are paired with intention. To speak is to lay bare your thoughts. Why would you neglect your intent by forcing a negative connotation where it doesn't belong?"

M: He seems slightly more on edge than with P, "I don't believe I should offer my approval to someone unwilling to determine a focus. It's a testament to your negligence."

Ra: Xero crosses their arms, his face skeptical,"Marriage? Your lack of detailed forethought and hyperfixation gives me the impression of an unhealthy mind. As it stands now, I will refuse to give you my blessing."

S: "I'm afraid I'm ignorant to everything Orden related," Xero says sheepishly, "I am happy to learn all that I can, though. Perhaps you would like to bring your family at some point? I would be happy to host them here." Xero smiles warmly, clearly unknowing of the chaotic rabblerousing he's invited into his home.

F: "Ah, the royal line," Xero says in recognition of F, "Your own mother was a classmate of mine as well. To think one of her children would grow so closely with mine. Please give her my regards, would you? She has always kept herself closer than others, so I was happy when she took an interest in my friend. He's a lucky man."

---------------------

Mr. Razor's thoughts (if he was alive)

E: He bows his head gratefully, "Thank you for taking care of MC all this time. Your selflessness has saved me a lot of worry, and I doubt I'll have any more leaving them in your hands."

R: Razor's eyes bore a hole through R, "To defy your father was a considerable risk. And not knowing what the academy had planned for you, you still allowed yourself to be incarcerated for an indeterminate amount of time," Razor taps his fingers to his chin, a smile spreading over his lips, "I enjoy those that stick to their principles, but what say we work on your jailbreaking?"

L: "Your father's quite an important man. He's lucky I was never contracted to kill him," Razor says matter-of-factly. A chilling air of silence deafens the room until Razor holds up his palms, "Just kidding. I've never killed anyone. They all died mysteriously."

V: "How's Jagd doing?" Razor narrows his eyes keenly on V, "I'm surprised they were able to bounce back after what I did to them. I guess they filled the empty spaces with whoever was able...or moldable."

P: Razor smiles sadly, "It must be difficult to be given another person's expectations and do well with them. You're like a fish trying to climb a tree. But I enjoy how far up you've climbed despite that. Would you like a reward? I know, how about...your father's weakness?"

M: Razor seems disinterested, "You're not worth the words, Crater. You're nothing more than what your father made you to be: a simple shadow to live vicariously through."

Ra: Razor's eyes have an approving glint, "The one that slipped through the cracks. How very odd. MC's mother was quite odd too. It's an endearing quality, isn't it? Yes, I think you'll make a perfect companion for MC. You've already been looking over them all this time, haven't you?"

S: "Earnestness is one of the first qualities people tend to throw away when faced with hardship. It is impressive to see how you've progressed through your poverty and discrimination so aptly. Perhaps you have a hope that things will get better?" Razor's mouth spreads in a wicked smile, "I do enjoy seeing how people struggle for such a small glimmer of light. I think I'll offer my aid."

F: "Ah, it's always cute to see people play at royalty," Razor smiles at F's exasperated face, "Why do you seem so angry? Do you actually believe your position has meaning? I'll assure you it doesn't," Razor casts a darkening stare towards the royal, "To me, you're no harder to kill than a beggar on the street. The power you attempt to flaunt means nothing, because in the end it does nothing to elevate you beyond a simple street urchin."

----------------------

End

Thank ya for the ask!

[wolfsneedles]

something about maestor aemon (after my honorable mention to maester luwin too) living his entire life secluded and explaining to jon how as part of watch you leave so much behind and dont get dragged in wars of rich petty lords. something about jon not knowing yet he was another alive targaryen- abandoned (ofc but he chose his life on wall too), refused the crown, watched and heard ravens fly and arrive all bridging forlorn damage and news of destruction about exiled and deaths of his fellow house members, something about him seeing every last targaryen die too whilst all he can do was to see the news, and continue working for the Wall, for the people, all while losing his sight even. something about him makes me sick with grief there left alone as a member of the most glorious and longstanding house in westeros. something about when maestor aemon says, that

"dragons,... sam! they were grief and glory of my house"

this statement in itself carries so much pain and remembrance of his days and how every almost every not if all, targaryens post dance era wanted dragons, the psychological effect hence or anguish associated with not having dragons is something that makes me so sad about them. Aegon the 3rd starting from him to someone paranoid and mad like aerys even - wanted to hatch dragons. (until dany, literally a young teenager the last of house targaryen as far as known to ppl performed her blood magic ritual and hatched the impossible- hatched what no one could - brought magic to world - established her domain as defined as the blood of the true last dragon) Something about aemon also sick and at last moments of his life during voyage with Sam when he said

"I see them in my dreams, Sam. I see a red star bleeding in the sky. I still remember red. I see their shadows on the snow, hear the crack of leathern wings, feel their hot breath. My brothers dreamed of dragons too, and the dreams killed them, every one. Sam, we tremble on the cusp of half-remembered prophecies, of wonders and terrors that no man now living could hope to comprehend ... or "

At the last moments of his life even aemon targaryen only truly thought about his own house and life and people too. How he casually sees his ancestors mind u the same ancestors too who appeared in dream of dany in AGOT, telling her to come towards them and fly and then she did flied in the end. I think the Targs remembering their members and family with special specific emphasis on their dragons - their symbol, their pride, their companion, is exceedingly beautiful and in itself a very big yearning.

Back to original post, about maester aemon when he tells jon, " kill the boy" and our duty and all we will hear are words and winds,,, and they will bring you the worst messages and news about your family and people but you have to be steadfast and remain resolute. Something about aemon seeing all his brothers uncles on the throne, but he was far and deserted and alone, and his name and titles might be forgotten but the fire burnt in him like every other targaryen, lastly when aemon said, the prince that was promised could be an error, how a man who has never met or seen dany just explains to sam on his deathbed, something about him asserting that dany needs councils, she is our last hope, she must be protected and counseled.

Something about him not even dying on the Wall but in the middle of sea alone yet with Sam and others, hearing about dragons in his last moments too even.

"He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. How many men would do that? He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended.[1]"

- sams eulogy from AFFC.

[lowkeyorloki]

Glass Warrior

You’re so beautiful, and so breakable. Loki could never forgive himself if he hurt you.

( smut ! 18+ only please, and tbh, that goes for my whole blog )

~

Want is ebbing away at your core.

Loki’s mouth is over yours, robbing you of all your breath in a searing kiss. You’re completely wrapped up in him, fingers tangled in his black hair and eyes closed so you can meet him in the dark. 

The room is heavy with lust, your back pressed against the armrest of your couch. Loki leans over you, and his body is heavy, and all you can think is, good. If you’re going to go out in any way, you want it to be hot and grandiose and because someone just loved you that much.

Neither you or Loki have shirts on, and his bare stomach and chest against yours feels so good it makes you dizzy, but it isn’t enough. Your hands slide from Loki’s shoulder blades, all the way down his muscled back until they reach the curve of his ass. You take note of every curve and divot under your palm, because you know time like this is limited. You have to make the most of it, commit any and everything to memory.

Your fingers have barely teased the hem of Loki’s pants when he sits up.

“Darling,” he says. Loki’s words are sweet, but his voice is sinful. It’s strained, and when you get a good look at Loki, you take in his reddened lips and lidded eyes. You probably don’t look much better, with all the attention hehey’’s been giving your neck. “We have to stop.”

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach, and you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Loki sees this, and a look of horror passes over his face.

“No.” he unlaces your arms, pulls you back to him, and presses a chaste kiss on the top of your head. You’re confused, and hurt, but you can’t resist Loki. You accept his embrace, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. “You’re beautiful.” he whispers in your ear.

“So then why don’t you want to...” you trail off, avoiding eye contact.

Loki runs his finger up and down your spine, his breath returning to a steady place. He sighs.

“I can’t risk you.”

“I don’t understand.” you unlace yourself from Loki’s arms. “I’m an adult, Loki.”

“But you aren’t like me.” you bite your lip. Loki’s words are like knives, lodging themselves deep in your heart. “Your body... we aren’t built the same.”

You reach forward, and when Loki doesn’t move away, you trace the definition of Loki’s chest. Abs. You run your finger over each rib, promising both yourself and Loki you won’t miss a single part of him.

Despite his recent protests, Loki’s eyes slide shut. 

“You don’t seem so different to me.” you murmur. “You never did.”

Loki takes your hand. “I have to protect you, pet. Even against myself.”

“Protection isn’t paranoia.” you say. Loki looks... crestfallen. Like he’s fighting a war with himself. “You’re strong, Loki, but I can handle myself.” you lean in to kiss the base of Loki’s neck. A sound of pleasure escapes from his lips. You rake your teeth up Loki’s throat, and he cranes his head to give you more access. You can tell Loki wants this- the evidence is pressed against your leg, driving you damn near insane. And besides, he’s admitted under the cover of late nights and hushed tones what he fantasized about doing to you. 

With you.

“You ask me all the time to trust you,” you say next to Loki’s ear. “So, just once, can you trust me?”

Loki pushes you back, but keeps a hold on you. His grip on your waist is tight, almost uncomfortable, but you don’t move. Loki brings your forehead to his.

“I can’t lose you.” he says, his lips brushing your own. You bring a hand up, running your thumb over Loki’s sharp cheekbone.

“You aren’t going to. We’re past that. We’re so far past that.” Loki looks at you with worried eyes, but there’s hunger there too, a thousand years’ worth. Loki looks down, then back up again, and suddenly all worry and stress is gone from his face. 

He’s ravenous.

“Tell me to kiss you.” Loki’s tone is borderline abrasive after being so concerned. It catches you off guard, and your breath hitches. Loki attaches his lips to your sternum, sucking lightly and then biting down. You yelp, the action sending waves of arousal throughout your body. His lips travel to your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipple. You hunch over him, your fingers returning to his hair and pulling. Loki groans.

“Tell me.” Loki's hands trace your back until they dip under the hem of your jeans. He cups your ass, your head falling back. 

You pull yourself together for just long enough to do what Loki wants. You hold his chin, keeping his eyes trained on his own. The next words you say, you pour your desire, your reassurance, your desperation into.

“Kiss me.” the words come out between pants. “Please, Loki. Kiss me.”

Loki knocks you off balance, so you’re lying completely on the couch. It’s small, almost too small for this, and Loki looms over you, a hand on either side of your head, so close all you can see is him.

It’s a wonderful sight, but sight isn’t enough.

You bring your palm towards the tent in Loki’s pants, brushing it experimentally. He hums, pressing himself into your hand. He’s hard, and you whimper upon the realization it’s because of you. Loki is a god. A literal god, and he’s here with you, aching just as much as you are.

Loki catches your lips in a deep kiss, one that muffles any sound you might make. He reaches between the two of you, under your panties and towards your aching core. You’re wet, ready for his fingers as they slip between your folds. Loki’s thumb circles your clit, and you yelp, biting down on his shoulder to lessen the noise. Loki chuckles, pulling away.

“No hiding, sweet girl.” he tells you, his voice deeper than usual. “Let it out.”

Loki enters you with a finger, barely giving you time to adjust before he adds another. It feels electric, and you rake your nails down his biceps. You feel the best you ever have before, thighs trembling and needing less but wanting more. Loki touches you in steady, planned out strokes. He curls a finger inside you, hitting your g-spot, and you feel yourself nearing the edge-

Loki pulls away, leaving you shaking as release is stolen from you. He puts his palm flat against your stomach, caressing you in a soothing way. It does nothing to ease your arousal.

With a wave of Loki’s hand, both of your bottom layers are gone, leaving the two of you completely exposed. It’s slighter colder, but the feeling soon fades as Loki begins peppering kisses to the insides of your thighs. He backs off every time he nears your heat, causing you tremble under each and every touch.

“Loki.” you pant. He looks at you with blown-out eyes. You feel like you might explode. “Loki, I...”

“What is it?” his tongue flicks out against your lips, and your hips jolt. Loki looks pleased, smirking. You clench your fists.

“Take me, Loki.” you say. You look at Loki, all of him, and see his erection. Loki’s cock is throbbing, red with precum. Your mouth waters. “Please.”

Pure emotion flickers across Loki’s face, and he reaches forward to brush a strand of hair from your forehead.

He lowers himself between your legs, his head teasing your entrance. You grip Loki’s shoulders, leaving little impressions of half-moons on his skin. You hope they last, your chest filling with pride over the idea of leaving any type of mark on Loki. 

Loki places soft kisses on the curve of your breast, murmuring against your skin. You can’t tell what he’s saying, but you respond to the light touch, goosebumps forming all over your body. Your heart hammers against your chest in anticipation as Loki teases you.

He thrusts his hips forward, entering you in one quick motion. You gasp, your back arching off the cushions. Loki takes the opportunity to wrap his arm under you, allowing for him to reach even deeper inside you.

Loki is unlike anyone else. You feel full, satisfied as your walls clench around Loki’s member. He occupies your whole being, moving in and out of you so gracefully one would think the two of you had done this many times before. Your sweat-sheened bodies seem to fit perfectly together, completely in sync and euphoric. Your vision blurs, and you see stars even though you swear your eyes are open.

The sounds of sex grow louder as the coils wound deep inside you and Loki threaten to snap. It’s you who orgasms first, brought on by Loki timing nips on your breasts with the movement of his hips. You come with a shout, clutching Loki while feeling too hot and cold at once.

Loki quickly follows suit, his body tensing and then going slack against you. He hides his face in your shoulder as he groans, spilling his seed inside you as you whisper praises in his ear.

Loki lays on top of you for a moment before he eases out of you. You feel hollow at his absence, but you can’t focus on the feeling long as aftershocks consume you.

Loki gathers you in his arms, coaxing you through them and pressing kisses into your hair, telling you how amazing you felt. You want to return the compliments, but Loki shushes you, tracing unknown shapes into your spine. 

You let your eyes rest and breaths stabilize, but it doesn’t take you long to crave Loki’s attention once more. You bump your nose against his, earning a laugh.

“I told you.” you say, but there’s no conviction in your voice. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see the corners of Loki’s mouth forming a smile. 

“Yes,” he says. “Perhaps I did underestimate you.” the air stills. “But...” Loki’s nimble fingers creep down your figure. “It may be better if we make sure this wasn’t a single occurrence.”