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icallhimjoey · 1 year

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To Have And To Scold

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your best friends are getting married, and who else can they ask to be their best man and maid of honour but you and Joe? It's just that... you don't really get along all that well, do you? At least, that's what you think.

CW / disclaimer: sort of enemies to sort of lovers (very vague, im sorry, but you'll see), language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: I know this trope is overdone, but, I wanted to do it a little... idk, different, I suppose. I've never written Joe like this either, so we'll see how this is going to go. This is part one (of five, you know me) and I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 2.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Oh no.

Joe was going to royally fuck everything up. There was no question about it. You were one hundred per cent absolutely convinced that Joe was going to do a bad job. So, so bad. The flat out worst, actually.

Joe hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin, of how to go about it, of what it all entailed.

It made you feel a little superior, which was nice. This felt like a competition you were going to win, even though you understood none of this was meant to be competitive. In fact, it would actually be considered to be bad taste and maybe a little tacky to even pretend like it was a fight for you to win, but you couldn’t help it.

“Are you sure, Poppy... I don’t want to, like, but... are you sure? Joe?”

Poppy laughed, said, “He’ll do fine,” and Mark followed up by slapping a firm palm to his shoulder, saying, “He’ll figure it out, just like you will,”

“Oh no need to worry about me, I got this,” and you couldn’t help but look at Joe, sharp and focussed. Almost challenging, in a way, but you meant it jokingly. Hoped that maybe Joe would soften a little because he never really seemed to let his guard down. Not around you, anyway.

But Joe just shrugged, kept his face entirely neutral, and your jokes fell flat which immediately made everyone feel awkwardly tense.

It wasn’t a huge secret that you and Joe didn’t really get along all that great, but Jesus, could this man be any stiffer in this moment of joy? This evening of good news and important questions and celebrations? The inner peacekeeper within you couldn’t stand it. You just wanted everyone to get along and be on the same page, but the distance Joe somehow seemed to really force in between you kind of ruined all of that every single time that you’d all hang out together.

When you’d be in larger companies, it’d be easy. You could stay at opposite ends of the room and sort of ignore each other. You’d say hi, you’d be cordial and polite, but you just... weren’t each other’s people. Which made no sense. Mark was your best friend and his fiancé Poppy had naturally become such a good friend of yours too, so why was her best friend this... big old awkward weirdo?

What a stupid way to end the evening, and one that started so blissfully pleasant. When you’d walked into Mark and Poppy’s place around dinner time, you could’ve never predicted the outcome of it all. Though, in hindsight, you didn’t know why you hadn’t expected it, because it made total sense. It really did. Mark and Poppy were going to tell their families about this, and you knew they wouldn’t ask any questions because, this obviously was inevitably going to be the way it was going to go.

“Won’t Poppy be joining us?” you let your coat slide from your shoulders before you hung it over the back of a dining chair as you looked around the place. The table was set for two, not three.

“Pop’s taken Joe out for a meal,” Mark said from the kitchen, and you felt a little guilty at the little marble of relief that reared its little head up. You loved Poppy, honestly you did. She was the perfect girl for Mark, they were the perfect couple. Two peas in a pod. Fucking gorgeous and so, so sweet... but you were too alike in all the wrong ways. Both unbelievably stubborn and potentially hot-headed in the wrong moments, so sometimes you’d butt heads with each other. You held strong opinions and there would be times where you’d find yourselves at the exact opposite ends of a spectrum, willing to die in the battle of trying to convince the other that you had it at the right end.

There had been many nights where you would practically be screaming over the kitchen table about something so fantastically meaningless with Mark in between you, silently eating his meal, not even really paying attention to what either of you were going on about.

Mark sort of loved it. Loved you. But really loved Poppy. Said he found the version of you that wanted to sleep with him which he claimed was all he’d ever wanted. That always made you cringe; made you tell him to fuck off and stop pretending that you weren’t practically siblings at this point.

Having dinner with just Mark at their place wasn’t what you’d expected when Mark had invited you ‘round, but it was so welcome.

Whenever it was you and Mark by yourselves, you’d start the evening like the adults you were, would complain about work, talk about all sorts of civilized things, have a glass or sensible slightly more expensive wine, and ask how each other’s parents were doing.

But by the end of the night, you’d feel like you were 17 at a house party where the one 18-year-old brought a bunch of shitty piss-coloured liquor, room temp cider in plastic 2 litre bottles and blue WKD that would leave everyone’s mouth stained. There’d be an urge to fucking trash the place like the place didn’t actually belong to either one of you, and you’d rummage through kitchen cabinets to make stupid meals at midnight after whatever vegan bullshit Mark cooked up for dinner that hadn’t filled you properly. Suddenly, Mark would forget he hadn’t eaten meat in years and go for a kebab with you.

You loved those nights.

Poppy hated those nights, because that was the Mark she didn’t know or understand. She’d find you both drunk of your tits, flinging Wii remotes dangerously close to expensive furniture pieces (where the fuck did you even find a Wii, Mark?!) grunting like you were the Williams sisters playing Wembley.

Whenever Poppy would try to tell Mark off for sort of letting go for a hot second, Mark would throw it right back in her face and go, “Pop, go have your fancy martinis with Joe – go eat a million oysters with him, us peasants here will be fine with our grey meats and questionable white sauce,” and you’d go, “Ew, shut up,” and apologise to Poppy through a mouthful of cheap fast food, and Mark would be giggling like a little school girl.

Poppy didn’t like that version of Mark, but that was the Mark that you loved and even though you knew this evening was just meant to be a quick catch-up on a work-night, you hoped you’d get to see at least a little of your Mark.

"She's taken him to Bob Bob Ricard to ask him an important question," Mark said as he set down filled plates full of beautiful colourful vegetables that honestly smelled amazing.

"I thought you guys were already engaged? You know, to each other?" you joked and made Mark snort.

"It's got to do with that though,"

"Oh no, is this, are you going to become a throuple? God," you slumped your shoulders. "I should've totally seen this coming," and before you could carry on Mark punched you in the arm with far too much force.

"No, you dick, she's asking him to be her maid of honour... sort of, but like, man of honour, I guess,"

"Oh my God," you pouted because honestly, that was kind of adorable. "Will he be, like, her little pageboy?"

You envisioned Joe in tails walking behind Poppy down the isle, holding the train of her dress or whatever pageboys actually did at weddings.

"Little more sophisticated than that, I think," Mark said before raising his full wine glass, prompting you to raise yours too.

"And you're here because I have a question for you too,"

Your eyes grew as you bit your lips slowly into your mouth when you realised where this was going.

"Oh... oh fuck, Mark, wait, this is a big deal," you put your glass down and jokingly fanned your face with your hands.

"Yes. Now, shut the fuck up and let me actually ask it,"

"No, what about your brother?" you interjected.

"My brother's a lazy sod who is not to be trusted,"

"He's going to murder me,"

"He won't," Mark grew more and more annoyed as you stalled him.

"He absolutely will,"

"Would you just..." Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Let me please just fucking ask the question, all right? Jesus,"

You shuffled in your seat and sat up, batted your eyelashes and pursed your lips into a smile because this really was a big moment.

"Will you," Mark started, and then paused for a second before he finished, "be my best man - woman... person?"

"Oh my God. Yes."

You cheersed and just, couldn't stop cackling for a moment. What a bizarre moment in your friendship, it was all kinds of fantastic and lovely and so weird. You loved it.

You questioned what it even really meant to be someone's best man, and over dinner you both googled all the things that best men usually did. For the groom, but also, for the whole wedding. You were to give a speech, would look after the wedding rings, would have to make sure all the groomsmen - and obviously the groom himself - were all dressed and ready in time for the actual ceremony and, last but not least... the stag do.

You were so up for the job.

Deep diving into this project was the perfect distraction from the mundane boring structured routine your life had fallen into.

Halfway through dinner Mark received a text from Poppy, saying that Joe had said yes. She sent a picture of Joe with a cute pursed smile and crinkly eyes, holding up a beautiful blush pink card that read the question, "Will you be my Honour Attendant?" in one hand, and a flute of bubbly champagne in the other.

"Oh," you frowned at your friend. "Why didn't I get a fancy card? Or a fancy dinner?"

Mark put his phone down and and shrugged, just said, "That's not our style," and dismissed you completely.

It was the beginning of what started with you dramatically exclaiming, "Do I not deserve a little luxury?" and ended with you doing tequila shots by the sink in the kitchen.

Yea, Mark was right. This was more your style.

It was just after 10 when the front door opened and Poppy walked in, closely followed by Joe.

A small moment of heys and hellos, followed, and then welcome-home kisses from Mark and Poppy, and slightly awkward eye-contact between you and Joe.

Joe looked sort of stupidly well put together. All polished. He looked wildly overdressed next to you, and it made you feel like a slob. And you knew you were older, not by much, but you were definitely older than Joe was, which really should mean something, but Joe was taller, and definitely richer, and... all of it made you feel like a child.

"You're gonna be Mark's maid of honour?" Poppy squealed, all excited, practically bouncing on her feet after she'd hugged you.

"Nope," you smiled widely, "You're looking at Mark's best man,"

Poppy grinned and shot eyes towards Joe.

"See? I told you. You kind of have to go by Maid of Honour," and Joe laughed before scrunching up his nose in defeated, going, "Yea, well..." and you saw Joe look at his best friend and just turn so incredibly soft for her. Like she was the only good thing in his life, like he truly, really truly, loved her with all his might.

It was almost disgustingly sweet, and you wondered if there was ever going to be a line Joe could cross with Mark.

You could easily cross the line with Poppy. You would never forget the look in her eye when you'd fallen asleep on Mark and he'd just hugged you for a little bit. It was the hard way to learn that Poppy was a normal person with normal boundaries and you totally understood. Of course. You wouldn't want anyone just falling asleep on your boyfriend - not that you had one - either.

But when it came to Mark, he was just very.... whatever, about Joe.

You were so sure that, if Poppy were to fall asleep in Joe's arms, and Joe would cuddle her for a second, Mark would just be like, "Are you having a good nap, babe?"

Sometimes Joe would invite Poppy to go to insane award shows over seas and Mark wouldn't even care that they'd share a hotel room.

Mark was made of trust. It was a little wild, you thought. Especially when, look! Look at those eyes! Look at what Joe's eyes were doing! He was literally turning into a puddle in front of everyone as he looked at his best friend.

"Fine, I guess," Joe comically rolled his eyes at his new title. Maid of Honour Joe Quinn, who hadn't yet taken his coat off which was weird because you were all stood around the kitchen island and he was still in his coat. What a way to keep the yea-I-don't-want-to-be-here vibes alive. Felt real great, this.

The defeated acceptance of Joe to whatever was happening made you jokingly ask Poppy if she was sure having Joe as her maid of honour was the best idea.

The joke had fallen flat, but Poppy erased it immediately by clapping her hands together right in front of her face, all erratic and excited, her grin quite literally splitting her whole face open.

"Oh my God, it's gonna be so fun," Poppy predicted as she shook tensed fists in celebration and you couldn't help but smile at her.

"It's brilliant actually, you won't need to worry about the stag do at all, I'm sorry, but Mark, I won't be taking you to a strip club,"

Joe scoffed loudly, which... rubbed you a little wrong. Mark however, was about to argue you on it.

"I will, however" you quickly added as you laid a hand on Mark's shoulder, "get you so unbelievably wankered, you won't even fucking remember if we went to one in the first place," and that got him laughing loudly, head thrown back, showing off all his molars.

"Oh no, you're going to be bad at this," Mark then winced and made you gasp.

"No I won't be!"

"Maybe," Poppy started, then looked at Joe, "you could get together and help each other out?"

And Joe's eyes shot to you, and you saw every fiber in his being hesitate and think of a way to polite tell you no, that's all right actually.

"Listen," you started, and hoped to keep the atmosphere light and jokey, like it had been, even though neither you or Joe had joked or laughed together at all. You never did.

"I don't need Joe to keep me from losing the wedding rings," you helped Joe out. "I think we'll do just fine on our own – you wouldn't have asked us if you thought we were going to be shit at our jobs,"

Ever the mediator, you.

"Oh fuck," Mark squeezed his eyes shut, and tipped his head back a little.

"You just jinxed it!" Poppy said with huge eyes, but a secret smile playing underneath.

"What?"

"You're going to lose the wedding rings," Joe said.

"No I won't–"

"She's going to lose the wedding rings," Mark said to Poppy.

"If you fucking lose our wedding rings," Poppy spoke through her teeth with a threatening finger pointed at you, but couldn't keep her giggles in.

"Stop it, I'm not! I'm not going to lose your wedding rings!"

You wouldn't. Because you were going to beat Joe at this. You were going to do a better job, have more fun doing it and, you just decided, look better doing it too. And Joe was really fucking good looking, so that was really saying something.

And you wouldn't lose the wedding rings.

You wouldn't.

---

The Taglisted:

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(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #To Have And To Scold #part 1

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motherphoebe · 2 months

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The Parting Glass

Annie Cresta as a career in the 70th Hunger Games.

Chapter 2:

previous chapter / next chapter

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝

Now is absolutely not the time to panic, to let myself fall apart so quickly is simply not an option. But, I’ve never seen footage from the tribute's goodbyes, I have no reason to worry about how I’ll be seen, so I walk across the hard floors and sink deep into the blue couch with my knees to my chest. It’s made of a soft, plush material I’ve never seen before, one that seems far too warm and unreasonable for District 4. Suddenly the door opens and my family, absent my father, are my first visitors.

Muriel takes the lead into the room and immediately sweeps me into a huge, tearful hug. When I meet my mothers eyes the air feels like it's knocked out of my chest, like when the ocean traps you under the tide, I know no resolution for this feeling. My mother joins the hug, I know that cameras await me outside this room, but the tears escape my eyes unrelentingly. This cannot be the last time I embrace my mother and sister.

“I love you my Poppy, you need to come home to me.”

She manages those few words before she bursts into tears. Suddenly I realize the position my mother is in, her youngest daughter, her baby, is being sent away to the games to possibly never return. Who will she wake for school in the morning, make tea with cinnamon for, ask for opinions on her crochet?

“I’m sorry Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll come home, I promise. I’ll do everything I can to come home.”

My voice is shaky and muffled in my mothers shoulder. I use my palms to rid my face of tears, and face the rest of my family. I clear my voice to ensure my next statement is heard as clearly as possible.

“I need you all to know that I’m going to fight. But if I don’t come back, please, please promise me you will all be okay.”

My efforts to clear my face of tears are useless, because as soon as I’m finished pleading, they seem to roll down my cheeks in never ending streams. I have no doubts that I could win the Hunger Games, but there have been years where even the strongest tributes don’t make it to the end. If I die, I can only hope their promise can bring me peace in my final moments.

“I can’t promise Annie. There is no way we could survive without you, but we know you’ll be back. You have to come back, my children will need their aunt Annie to teach them how to swim. You’re the strongest fighter out of all of us, you prove it time and time again in training. You’re smart, use your wits and the skills you’re good at and win this.”

Skipper stares at me with such a steady look I feel my tears are now over dramatic. I’ve never seen him look so much like our father. My mother and sister are far too inconsolable to respond, so I don't bother begging for them to promise me. I begin to reply to Skipper, but the peacekeeper guarding my door barges in, announcing that it's time for them to go. I grasp on to all of them, unable to accept that my last few moments with my family could be over.

“We’ll see you soon Annie, I love you! Wear the necklace in-”

Muriel’s voice cracks as she's abruptly cut off by the slamming of the door, but I heard enough to assume she wants me to wear the seastar and pearl necklace she made me as a token.

I hear my father talking, and then the door opens to allow him to rush in. Suddenly he's hugging me the same way he did when I was hurt as a young child. He smells like the sail boat as he always does, although it's not pleasant it is comforting. He places his hands on my shoulders, forcing us to be face to face.

“Listen to me Annie Cresta, you are the strongest girl I know. Do you remember when I first took you on the boat? You were younger than Muriel and Skipper, and somehow caught more fish than the two of them combined. I asked you how you did it and you said-”

“They like me because they know I’m a mermaid, so they wanted to help me beat Muriel and Skip” I finish his sentance, the memory brings a genuine smile to my face. I was so excited to finally be old enough to join them on the boat, and also genuinely believed I was a mermaid with how much time I spent in the ocean.

“You are a winner Annie, you can do anything if you put your mind to it. You have eight years of training, you know what you’re good at, survive and come home to us. I love you so dearly, my sweet daughter. I believe you’ll do what it takes to win.”

His eyes become dangerously full of tears. I’m unable to think of what to do, I’d never put much thought into being in a situation where my father would cry in front of me. I bury my face in his chest so I avoid his tears and think about his words. Of course, what it takes to win means ensuring the deaths of those around me, including the death of my district partner, and life long friend Bodie. There can only be one victor. I’ve been given such little time to think about this, my initial shock is just now wearing off and the complexity of my situation leaves me winded.

“I promise I’ll do whatever it takes. I know I can win but, what do I do about Bodie? Dad I can’t-”

“And you won’t. Stay with him as long as you can. Annie, only one of you can come home, and it has to be you. I need you to know it has to be you. His mother wants to talk to you after this, I told her I’d ask you if that was fine.”

He chooses careful words, but the thought still causes effects deep within me. My body begins to shake uncontrollably. I decide now I won’t be anywhere near Bodie when the time comes. I think about Bodies mother, the kind and gentle woman who’d fed us crackers and jam after swims and watched us play on the beach and run from the shore. How could she want to visit me if my survival means her son's death? She must want to say goodbye, and I don’t want to deny her that. I nod my head quickly.

“Yes, please. Tell them she's the last one, I can’t talk to anyone else.”

He simply nods and holds me while we wait for the peacekeeper to say our time is up. I’ve always found I understand my father better than anyone else in my family, I believe it's because we think alike. We both stand here in a silent hug until the peacekeeper arrives again to collect my father.

“You’re strong, Annie Cresta.” The door opens and soon he's gone, and I’m alone. He says I'm strong like it's a fact, written in stone and one hundred percent true. I’m unsure, but I decide to believe him, I really have no other choice.

Mrs. Cormoran walks in shortly after, her auburn hair is tied up and her eyes are bloodshot, cheeks still wet with tears. She's just left her son's room, the only remaining person in her family, unsure if she’ll ever see him again, and now must bid farewell to her second daughter who shares the same fate. I lose my composure, hot tears run down my face once more.

“Come here sweetie.”

She holds me in a hug I can only describe as motherly. I have known her son Bodie my whole life. He’s always been there, they say we saw each other in the market one day and instantly became friends, playing with the rubber baits that hung off the fishing lines in the random shop above us. We’d beg everyday to play on the sand together, our houses close enough to one another to justify the walk. I haven’t seen him as much as I used to the past few years. His family couldn’t afford the extra fishing quota required to get Bodie eligible for training, which forced us to have a lot less time together. Our hangout time was reduced to our hours at school, the rest whatever I could squeeze in after training. When his father passed away in a fishing accident a few years ago, our time was cut even shorter than before. His mothers income couldn't afford to feed the two of them, so he started working any job he could, officially leaving school to become a fisherman. It’s an option a lot of the children in District 4 resolve to; there is always a need for fishermen and as long as you fit on a boat, you’re eligible. They say the age limit is 13, but I’ve seen kids as young as 10 walking to the docks in the morning.

Now I sit here with Bodie’s mother, knowing her son and I are headed into an arena where only one of us can return alive. The feeling of guilt weighs on me heavier than anything. How can I feel so comfortable saying I’ll win even though it ensures his death? Especially when his mother needs him, he’s all she has. I’ve already decided that I have to win, but if I can’t it has to be Bodie.

We simply stand here silently in our tearful hug until the door opens, and Mrs. Cormoran is being swiftly let out. I run to her and grab her hand before the peacekeepers begin to drag her out.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

They’re simple words that I hope will bring her the comfort she needs.

Now I stand here alone. I wipe my cheeks and take a few deep breaths while I stare out of the huge windows directly to the sea. Tonight my friends will be out there swimming, finally able to breathe knowing they are safe from one more year of the games. My sister will probably drag her husband to our family's house, and spend the night in our old shared bedroom. If it weren’t so hot out I'm sure all the windows would be closed shut, forcing the outside world to be as closed off as possible. My mother would be boiling mint on the broken down stove and preparing for a sleepless night.

What did I mean when I said I’d do everything I could? One of the first things they tell us in academy is that our actions on camera are extremely important. Once I heard that, I started to notice that the most well liked tribute every year is almost shaped into a character, someone that is relatable to the audience. What I don’t know is if that's something we decide now, or once we are with our mentors. I know without a doubt that I looked like a fool at the reaping, my lack of realization is surely going to make me look unaware to everyone who watches it. Is that something I can work with? I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen anyone play dumb before in the games I’ve studied. It doesn't matter because I didn't think to commit to it, I held my head high after and only faltered slightly when Bodies name was called.

I have never seen the tributes hug instead of shaking hands though, but that wasn’t part of my plan. I couldn’t do anything else once I saw the look in his eyes. That will definitely be on the replay, maybe even talked about by Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith for a while before moving onto District 5.

Although it’s a horrific thought, I might be able to use Bodie being my district partner to my advantage. It's disgusting, despicable even, but if I make it clear that I’m more prepared than Bodie, take him under my wing and train him, it would make both of us stand out, and show how capable I am. As much as it feels wrong, It’s not an awful plan. I’d be doing this all anyway, and I could get the two of us possible sponsor gifts while I’m at it. I hate the direction my thoughts have gone.

The heat in the room is becoming unbearable, the constant pacing I’m doing doesn’t help either, and after checking for the 3rd time, I’m completely sure these huge windows do not open. The walls feel like they're closing in on me. I think I’ve spent an eternity here, thinking about who I should be and how I will act, two things I’ve never put so much thought into, it usually comes to me easily. If I had been sat down last night and asked these questions, I might have been able to answer.

I’m Annie Cresta, the third child of Catriona and Kieran Cresta. I love my family and friends, helping people, watching my sister weave, my brother's wife and her piglets, being under the waves and hearing them crash above, diving deep and finding beautiful shells, my mothers face when I bring them home. I think I can be kind and outgoing, but I also like to be alone. My dad says I put a lot of effort into caring about the people around me. I know I do well in the literature parts of school, but poor in mathematics. This is true.

None of this seems important though, when I’m also trained to kill and survive the Hunger Games. Somehow I’ve overanalyzed and torn myself so far apart, I’m unsure how to put me back together. I spend a lot of time alone with my thoughts, but I’ve never been so destructive. I try to repeat the things I know about me in my head, but I don't have much time to decide what's true before I’m reminded that I’m in custody, and officially the property of the Capitol. I guess Annie will have to be a girl with a tear stained face and shy smile for now.

The peacekeeper opens the door and orders me to walk out, which I do gladly, the outside summer sun and heat seems infinitely better than the stuffy room that was slowly suffocating me. I’m led through a back exit, far from anywhere I’ve ever been before, and shuffled into a car. I’ve never been in one before, but I see them in footage from the Capitol all the time. I’ll admit, a car seems quite silly to me, one of my favorite things to do is walk around District 4, with the seagulls above and the waves crashing around me. I sit alone in the back for a few seconds until I’m joined by Bodie. His face is just as puffy and tear stricken as I imagine mine to be. His eyes are just as blue as they’ve always been, but he's no longer the 8 year old boy I imagine him as. He looks so tired and scared, and somehow, my heart aches more than it already was. I reach across the carseats, and pull him into a tight embrace, doing everything I can to comfort him.

“Annie.”

It's all he says but it's enough.

I can clearly hear the uncertainty in his voice, and it's like I can hear the thoughts plaguing his brain. His mother, how she’ll be all alone, if she’ll be able to afford life until he's back, if he comes back. The thought of Bodie never coming back reminds me he’s never trained, but no one could ever tell. He's got at least 7 inches of height on me, and although I’m not necessarily tall for a girl my age, he's one of the tallest people I know. Besides that, he's somewhat bulky, his years fishing have built up his muscle making his arms muscular and shoulders broad. He could easily pass as a training academy tribute, if we play that angle.

“I think we are headed to the train now, there's normally footage of this on the television right? Don’t cry Bodie, stand tall and strong, try and look tough when they’re filming us, trust me.”

I grab his hand and squeeze it firmly and make direct eye contact with him, something I’ve learned helps me get my way, although I’m sure he has no reason to object. He nods and I give him a pleased smile which makes him let out a breathy laugh.

“Did you forget that I know you quite well Annie? You don't need to intimidate me, I trust you.”

The car ride is short compared to the walk it would've been to get to the train station. Maybe a car would be nice for the treacherous hills that burn my calves. When we pull in, I can see the cameras and crew that await us at the entrance of our train, and squeeze Bodies hand one more time before plastering a smile on my face. Prisca emerges from the crowd and comes to collect us, her gloved hands lightly pushing my back. I'm glad I was already smiling, it makes it easier to hide the confusion I have for how she manages to wear the garments she chose in heat like this.

I act like I’m barely affected by the unusual amount of attention I’m getting, I even find myself waving and saying hello to people trying to get my attention. I wonder where they came from, and why they yell my name at me like that, but keep a pleasant smile on regardless. I think Bodie does great as well but I’m unsure, Prisca made him walk behind me, something about him covering me from the cameras on the left.

Once we enter the train, I’m immediately taken back by how luxurious the cart I’m in is. The floors are made of a deep blue plush carpet, much like the couch was in the justice building. Almost everything is accented in gold or silver, the walls are riddled with delicate swirls that look like a wave crashing. It takes a lot of effort to not let my mouth drop wide open, instead I keep my smile and look around. I’m very enthralled by the hanging lights that are somehow encased in crystal when Prisca pipes up, reminding me I’m not alone.

“You both may go to your rooms! I’ll call you for dinner, but if you’re feeling chatty before that we will all be in the second cart!”

She clasps her hands together and bounces away as she goes to speak to the crowd of people outside, not giving me enough time to ask how I’m supposed to know where my room is. I look at Bodie and almost begin laughing, until a Capitol attendant leads us both to our temporary rooms.

When we arrive at my room, I thank the man and he almost looks shocked. Once inside I examine what my small room holds: a large bed, dresser and closet, attached bathroom with a scary looking shower, and not much else. I decide that I should probably wash off, seeing as I’ve sweat more than enough today. Plus I’ve never used a real shower before. Back home we only have a bath, and the showers at the beach, but those hardly count, they only spray the cold seawater right back at you. I remove my dress and fold it, and then decide it should probably be hung, it’s nice enough to be reused or sold if it's returned to my family. I take the orange bow out of my hair and clip it on the neckline of the dress, but I keep my necklace around my neck. When Muriel sells her jewelry to the people at the market she always makes sure to include how they don't tarnish in water, unlike the beams of the peacekeeper towers that overlook the sea we fish in, as if anyone would look at her work and question its quality.

I press multiple wrong buttons on the shower before I finally figure out how to start the water. It's coming out of 4 spouts, and is almost freezing cold, but if I close my eyes I can pretend I’m standing in the showers on the beach. That is until I breathe in and smell the citrusy soap that I accidentally sprayed on the wall and acknowledge the lack of waves, but I still allow myself to live in the little fantasy for a while.

Once the freezing water begins to make my teeth chatter, I decide it's best I end my shower. The buttons and products are better labeled outside of the shower; I press one that instantly dries me off, and then use a balm that untangles my hair and makes it fully dry in under a minute. When I look in the mirror I’m actually quite impressed, my hair falls on my back silky smooth, the usual curl looking bouncier than normal.

The closet is full of brand new clothes, they all seem to be my size, but they are definitely not my style. I run my hands through the silky, freshly washed clothes and decide on a simple pair of pants and a shirt. There's no use in wearing anything cute, no cameras will see me until we arrive at the Capitol, and by then I should know what look I want to achieve. Maybe at dinner I’ll talk to my mentor about-

I didn't realize until right now that I completely spaced out when they announced this year's mentors. I think I was staring at the back of Eimears head wondering if she knew her hair band had broken. If I decide to play dumb, I really won't have to play at all. I roll my eyes at myself and consider going to Bodies room, or even the dining cart early, but ultimately I lay on the soft sheets of my bed and let them engulf me along with my thoughts.

Although I didn’t volunteer, maybe I can act like I was planning to since I’m already eighteen. It’ll make me look less scared, which will be of utmost importance when Bodie and I meet the tributes from Districts 1 and 2.

I know deep down I should keep strategizing, but my mind races quicker than the tide recedes, and I start to think about useless things to comfort myself. How many times could I press the buttons in the shower before the soap runs out? Where do they keep the laundry in a train like this? How will they get the sand from my shoes out of the thick carpet? I stare at the ceiling and drift away into my useless thoughts.

“Annie! It's Prisca!”

Her voice makes me jump halfway out of the bed. She knocks three times on my door, and then opens it immediately after before I’m able to let her in.

“Oh perfect you’ve showered! Dinner will be in ten minutes, I came early to tell you to change but it seems you already have! Goody!”

She claps her hands together and gawks at me like I’m a child just learning how to function, but it doesn't irk me, it only makes me giggle.

“Oh, you’re just precious! Don’t distract me with that smile Miss Cresta, I must inform Bodie of dinner as well!”

She bounces away and closes the door behind her, and I wonder why all her sentences sound like they're overly excited questions. I decide pretty quickly that while she’s unlike anyone I’ve met in 4, that doesn’t make me like her any less. Plus, I’m sincerely hoping her infatuation with me is because I’m interesting, not just the way she is with every tribute.

I sit down on the bed and braid and unbraid the longest strands of my hair until I decide just about ten minutes have passed. Somehow I make my way down the hall, through a few carts, and end up in the dining area. Bodie isn’t at the table yet, and Prisca is sitting down with only one of my two mentors. It’s Mags Flanagan, the oldest victor District 4 has.

“Hi, I’m Annie Cresta. I don’t think I’ve met you before, but my sister says you love her earrings she sells at the market.”

I extend my hand to shake hers, but she simply grabs mine and holds it gently in her aged palm. She’s one of the most respected people in District 4, I’ve heard she's the reason we bring home as many victors as we do.

“Mariel, right? With the blonde hair and big brown eyes and the tapestries?”

I can’t help but laugh at her mispronunciation of my sister's name, knowing that’s one of the things that drives her the most crazy.

“Muriel, yes! I barely have time to work at the stall with her, but I know she’s always buzzing with excitement on days she sees you.”

As I speak, a plate is placed in front of me, and then I allow myself to look at the array of food on the table. Different kinds of meat covered in colored sauces, fruits and vegetables I’ve never seen before, even drinks that have bubbles in them. I try to hide my shock, but sometimes I forget other people survive on a diet that's not mostly seafood.

“Oh! This is my favorite part! Annie, you can eat absolutely anything here! The Capitol has fine cuisine, you’ll see much more once we actually arrive. Believe it or not, this is the low quality stuff!”

She laughs, and I have to convince myself I’m not bothered at the way she's gawking at me, because I’m actually extremely excited to start trying all these foods. I just smile at her and begin with a piece of meat that's filled with a creamy purple sauce. It’s unlike anything I have ever eaten before, it has to be from a bird, but I’m having trouble figuring out which one. I’ve tried various meats besides fish before, and none of them were nearly as flavorful as this is.

Bodie joins us once I’ve tried most of the food, and I can't help but introduce him to it all, having second servings as I do. His reactions are just as entertaining to me as mine were to Prisca, and we both eat and laugh until we physically can't anymore. If the food weren’t so good, I could swear we were back home in District 4, I can see this in Bodies face as Priscas voice snaps us back to reality.

“Alright! They will be doing the replay of the reaping ceremonies in five minutes! Come come, let’s sit on the couch and watch! Leave your dishes!”

My stomach is as full as it’s ever been making the walk to the lounging area difficult. I sit on the couch next to Bodie while Prisca sits on an overly extravagant chair and turns up the volume of the television.

“There you are, I’ve made you a plate. Eat on the couch.”

I hear Mags behind me, and whip my head around to see Finnick Odair, only an hour late to dinner. The light circles forming under his eyes make him look tired, maybe he’d accidentally fallen asleep. It's perfect that he is our second mentor, he is the most recent victor and I know for a fact he’ll be able to help Bodie get all of the knowledge he needs about the games. When we make eye contact, his sea-green eyes look at me with recognition, and a slight smile that quickly turns into a smirk.

“I think I remember you, from training academy. Annie, right?”

“Well, that is the name they called me by at the reaping ceremony, isn’t it?”

My tone is playful, but Finnicks is one I can only describe as seductive. I can’t help but smile and hope the blush creeping onto my cheeks isn’t noticeable. Despite his demeanor, I know that he actually knows my name, and it actually feels like I'm joking with him the way we did as kids. I haven’t seen Finnick long enough to talk to him since his last days at the training academy. After his victory he obviously had no more need for it and when he moved to Victors Village he was no longer at the spots around town I’d always seen him at.

“Hmm. Suddenly Annie doesn't ring a bell. I’m sure you remember Finnick Odair though.”

Finnick ends his sentance with a wink and I figure his charming tone and newly signature smirk are something he’s adopted during his time as a victor. I roll my eyes at him and sit facing forward again, now facing towards the television. I’ve seen him like this on the television, maybe the women of the Capitol fall for it, but it does little for me, I prefer the fourteen year old boy I knew. Once the anthem of Panem begins, I take a deep breath while Bodie puts his hand on my knee to stop its bouncing.

Districts 1 and 2 produce their usual well fed, intimidating volunteer tributes. Particularly the boy from 1 is somewhat horrifying, not only does his size make him look years older than he actually is, his eagerness to be a tribute makes him seem especially bloodthirsty. The pair from 2 also seem to be acquainted, but not nearly as closely as Bodie and I. All together, the four of them seem to have their strategies down, I have not an ounce of doubt in their confidence and ability to win.

There's nothing special about the pair from 3, but when we get to 4 I hold my breath. I watch Prisca call my name and see my dumbfounded confusion. I don’t look as absentminded as I had thought, but anyone studying me will definitely notice. The hosts compliment the orange bow in my hair, saying that paired with the blue of the dress, it's sure to be the color palette of the summer. The bow just makes my heart ache as I think of my mother. I watch myself as I walk to the stage with my head high and my smile unwavering.

“You weren’t paying attention, were you?”

I jump at the volume of Finnick's voice, he’s now standing right next to me. He must have been extremely silent, I'm not sure how I was so unaware of his arrival. Was I even paying attention just now?

“If I’m being honest, I didn’t even know you were a mentor until you walked into this cart.”

I admit and shrug my shoulders. I don’t see the point in lying, if Finnick noticed my aloofness, I’m sure the other mentors and tributes have too. I’m sure they’ll keep track of how easily distracted I am and use it against me, and it won’t be hard considering how the back of a girl's head kept me entertained for half the reaping ceremony.

“Well you also didn't notice that I’ve been standing next to you for about five minutes.”

He shakes his head and laughs. I can’t argue with this, so I just shrug and continue watching the television. Maybe later on he’ll give me some tips on how to pay attention.

After the hosts are done talking about blue and orange, they show Prisca calling Bodies name. I can see his full reaction, and I’m relieved that he looks a lot more stoic than I originally thought. They cut to a shot of the two of us standing on stage, and I can’t lie, we look like an intimidating team, regardless of our emotional state. When they get to the end, they spend a while showing us hugging instead of shaking hands, discussing how it’s obvious District 4 has two tributes who know each other going in this year, and how they are just dying to see how this turns out. I turn to look at Bodie, he just stares at the television making a face I’ve never seen before.

It’s almost like when the children would tease him at school mixed with the face he made as he told me his father had died, but it’s not until his eyes meet mine that I am able to fully take in the disparity and disgust painting his face. Somehow seeing him like this hurts me more than what the hosts said.

“This is sick, I’m glad to know they’re dying to see our deaths.”

He scoffs, and although he says this under his breath, his words are venomous and laced with hatred. I figured one of his first thoughts would be how in the best scenario only one of us can make it out alive, but what I hadn’t realized was that he’d spent his time seething, not strategizing. I know that no words I say to him right now will put him at ease, so I pull him in a one sided hug and try to wipe my memory of the way he just looked at me before the feeling of dread swallows me whole.

By the time I'm watching the screen again, they are showing the tributes from District 7. I wasn’t fully paying attention until I saw the boy tribute can’t be any older than 13, and only has one hand. His partner is an older girl, and the way she looks at him makes me think she wants to protect him the same way I want to protect Bodie. I make a mental note to avoid them in the arena. The boy from 10 seems to have a chance but he trips on his way to the stage and the hosts laugh about that for a while. Districts 8,9,11, and 12 produce either young children, or kids that look as if they’ve never had a full meal in their lives.

Seeing these children with no chance is absolutely horrific, and knowing their odds against me feels even worse, but I will do whatever it takes for and I to survive, even if it ensures their deaths.

They never tell you at training that ‘quick’ and ‘logical’ thinking devoid of emotion will make you feel repulsed with yourself.

I’m able to let out a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding while Prisca shuts the television off and claps her hands together.

“Well! I think we will have a very entertaining game this year! We should arrive in the Capitol by tomorrow morning! I’ll be getting a good night's sleep, those cameras will still record you, even with bags under your eyes!”

She points to Finnick and then promptly exits the room. Bodie scoffs, but I can’t stop the giggle from escaping my lips, I’m starting to think she's always this bubbly and it's not just for the crowd. Mags bids us a goodnight as well, and soon it’s just me inbetween Finnick and Bodie, who’s looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m starting to think Prisca’s always that giddy no matter what. I know I've been bad at paying attention recently, but I honestly can't even imagine being as unaware as she is.”

This makes them laugh, and I see the ease slowly creep back into Bodies face. What I really want to ask is when do we start strategizing officially? I want to know how to act when we arrive tomorrow, and Finnick's opinion is one of the most important. But I refrain, not only for Bodies sake, but because there is no way for me to explain how I think we can work with the angle of how we know each other after his reaction to what the hosts said.

“Prisca is right! Wouldn’t want bags under our eyes on the way to the Hunger Games! Get some sleep Annie, you’re starting to look scary!”

Bodie attempts an impression of Prisca, and although hes being sarcastic it’s something I could imagine her saying. He gets up from the couch and tries to walk like her for a second before giving up and leaving the cart normally. It’s just Finnick and I in the cart now and once I’m sure Bodie is far enough away I ask what I’ve been wanting to the whole day.

“I know it seems like I wasn’t paying attention then, but I’ve been keeping track of everything. When do we start planning? Strategizing I mean, officially. I want to know how to act when we arrive tomorrow. I think we can really work with the angle of how we know each other. Because I want to be with Bodie the whole time, especially in the career pack, Bodie hasn't ever trained and-”

My voice cracks and I have to stop because tears are forming in my eyes. I quickly wipe them away, but when I look back in Finnicks green eyes, they are softer than I’ve ever seen them. He’s looking at me the way Muriel did when she said goodbye to me, like I’m a wounded and hopeless kitten, except it doesn’t make me feel that way. Somehow, I feel like he understands.

“How do I go into that arena with my best friend Finnick? I’m awful. I need him to be capable, not so he can win, so I dont have to die for him. He’s spent all day thinking about how awful this situation is and all I’ve done is think of how to make it work for us.”

I dont know what about Finnicks look made me trust him enough to say these things I barely even accepted I was feeling, but now my knees are to my chest and I’m sobbing. Maybe its because I know this conversation will stay between us, especially if I die within the next week. I go to stand up to leave the couch, embarrassed by my lack of composure, but Finnick places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. When I look at him again, he hesitates before he pulls me into a sidehug. Maybe my emotional spectrum is making him think I’ve gone mad since we last talked.

“You are not awful Annie. Don’t worry about any of that right now, you’re not evil for the way you’ve been feeling, and you’re right, the sooner we can strategize the better for you both. And about Bodie– You said he hasn’t trained before? He’s not as prepared for this emotionally as you are so of course he hasn’t started thinking from a players point of view yet. I think so far you’re doing great, and you have a point, the audience has already made notice of your friendship. He’ll benefit greatly from your expertise, and you will both benefit from being a team.”

I realize his voice lacks the charm he’d been speaking with earlier. These words come from the Finnick Odair I knew 5 years ago, the boy with a district 4 accent, not the Capitols darling who purrs just as posh as they do. It could be because we are alone, but I feel like he’s let his guard down with me. Even though he is one of my mentors, he did not have to genuinely comfort me, this is him treating me as a friend, not a tribute. By the way he continues to hug me like hes scared to touch me, I officially decide my random outburst has made him uncomfortable and try to fix it.

“I’m sorry. Thank you Finnick. I know you technically have to be helpful, but I appreciate it, even if I didn’t know you were my mentor until after dinner.”

He laughs and I can't help but notice his genuine smile, I decide I like it better then his smirk. I can’t help but blush at our proximity as I realize he truly has stayed just as sweet despite becoming quite handsome. Maybe this is how he gets all of his lovers in the Capitol, but that doesn’t seem right. They only show him as a smug man, who takes his lovers gifts and ditches them after one night, but the boy sitting in front of me seems too genuine for that. Half of District 4 would not believe me if I told them Finnick Odair held me as I cried, just out of the kindness of his heart, not for a lavish gift or an inexplicable amount of money.

“Technically, I just have to be here, I don’t really have to be helpful, but you’re lucky I like you Cresta. I have hope in you, especially if you can still throw knives like you did at thirteen years old.”

I feel the blush grow on my cheeks and feel silly. Although I used to be close friends with him, his statement of liking me gives me a feeling I can’t explain. Maybe it’s because of how genuine his words feel to me, like they are natural and take no effort for him to say, or because of how his sea green eyes stare into mine so thoughtfully, like he can see behind my eyes straight into my mind. I decide that if I win, I’ll put a lot of effort into making people see Finnick for who he really is. I’d also like to spend as much time looking into his eyes as possible, but nobody has to know that.

“I’d like to think I am. Maybe even a little bit more talented at throwing a spear, a couple of inches taller too. It’s weird because you look the same as you did at fourteen to me though?”

He gasps, feigning shock, then immediately stands and flexes his muscular arms and I can’t help but laugh. He throws on his smirk again, and shows off his growth in various ways, at one point even rubbing his hands over an obviously bare chin as if theres a beard.

“Go to bed boy, enough of that.”

Mags waddles into the cart, her bathrobe drags on the floor as she approaches the hot tea. Finnick puts his hand up to salute while her back is to us, but as soon as she turns he immediately puts his hand down.

“Yes ma'am! I mean Mags! We’ll go to bed now, sorry.”

His sentence starts with a cocky tone, but when she gives him an unamused face, he backs down. I try to contain my laughter at how he just acted, just like Muriel did when she’d try to get Skip in trouble not knowing my parents would just make them both do chores.

“She really put you in your place, huh?”

I whisper as we rush down to the cart where my bedroom is located. Finnick doesn't respond until we reach my door.

“Yeah she does that. She’s more like my mother than a colleague honestly.”

He wears a small smile, but I can see the pain he hides behind his eyes. I’d forgotten about his mothers passing, she was a lovely woman who raised Finnick on her own after her husband's death. Just like Bodies mom.

I walk into my room as he leans on the doorway. We just look at each other, and somehow it isn’t awkward, I feel like I’m examining him in a way I never have before, not recently at least. There is something so complex about him, the way he goes between his Capitol persona and real personality. I know it's important to act for sponsors, but this seems to go above and beyond that. I haven’t found an explanation for why he dates Capitol women, or acts so smug in front of Prisca, but it doesnt matter when he’s in front of me with guard down.

It’s like he snaps back to reality, he stands up straighter and takes his hand off the door frame.

“Sorry Annie, you should get to sleep. Prisca will wake you up for breakfast tomorrow. Goodnight.”

I barely have a chance to respond before he closes the door, leaving me alone. I’m glad Finnick is one of my mentors, I don’t think I could be in a better position. We’ll be able to come up with a way to get Bodie and I as far as possible.

As I begin to get ready for bed, the questions I’ve been ignoring become too loud to suppress. What would I do if it's Bodie and I in the final two? What would I do if Bodie tried to kill me? The worst thought is what would I do if I killed Bodie. I immediately hit my palm to my head hoping it will bring some sense to me.

I need to remain rational and composed, I can’t be thinking of these things now, not anytime before they happen. All I have to focus on is getting Bodie through training, into the career pack, and past the blood bath. We’ll have to separate at some point and there is no way for me to know when right now, when we haven't even arrived in the Capitol yet.

I’ve always been able to spend so much time caught up in my mind, especially on nights when sleep doesn't come to me easily. Normally the thoughts that keep me awake are harmless. If tomorrow will be hot, if they’ll continue the extended fishing quota, if my mother will make me run errands for her. I don't mind those thoughts, they don’t make me wish for silence. They’re nothing like my thoughts now about the inevitable death of my friend for my survival.

As I lay in the bed, I realize I’m starting to dislike being left alone. What comforted me just this morning suddenly leaves me spiraling and I’m horrified accept it, but, I think I have a new answer to my question from earlier in the justice building.

Who am I?

I’m Annie Cresta, a girl who would use her best friend being reaped to her advantage. This is true.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

thank you for reading!! i hope you guys enjoyed this long chapter, if you have any feedback/ thoughts message me or leave a comment because i’m open to ideas and criticisms!! i literally have no clue what im doing i just have an idea of annie as a career and a dream ngl. i also uploaded this on ao3, my user there is the same as here :)))

#annie cresta #finnick odair #finnick and annie #the hunger games #thg #odesta #finnick x annie #thg fanfiction #the hunger games finnick #the parting glass #the 70th hunger games #ao3 fanfic

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remycarerra · 5 months

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House Of Fire And Ice

A Jaime Lannister x Oc Targaryen Story

Hi! This my first time writing a story on here so I hope you like it I'll probably post more chapters of this if it doesn't flop so enjoy!

"Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land."

But...What if it landed on greatness?

Midnight, At House Stark-Targaryen

In the dimly lit chamber, Rainelle Targaryen's cries echoed as she brought forth new life. Costance and Poppy, her faithful maids, offered support while Orion Stark stood by her side, a pillar of reassurance. "You're almost there, Rainelle. One more push," he urged, his voice unwavering.

With a final surge of strength, Rainelle welcomed Riyah Stark Targaryen into the world. "Give me my baby," she whispered, arms outstretched. The maids carefully placed the dragon wolf cub in her embrace, a symbol of the union between House Targaryen and House Stark.

Orion, now seated beside Rainelle, couldn't conceal his joy. "And what is the name of this little one?" he asked, his gaze shifting from the newborn to his wife.

"Riyah Stark Targaryen, Dragonborn, Mother Of Wolves, The Healer, And maybe one day a Peacekeeper" Rainelle declared with pride. The room filled with warmth as the baby dragoncub opened her eyes, revealing a mesmerizing shade of light purple, accented by a ring of grey. The newly expanded family basked in the magical moment, a legacy of fire and ice embodied in their precious child.

In the midstof their joy, Leone, Orion's trusted confidant, burst in, his appearance disheveled. Concern etched across Orion's face, he demanded an explanation. "Leone, what's the meaning of this?" The reply came in breathless gasps, "They're here, and they want the baby."

Rainelle, startled, turned her gaze to Orion, disbelief etched on her face. "I thought we'd have more time!" she exclaimed, desperation in her voice. Orion sighed, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Me too."

Moving swiftly, Orion took their precious newborn from Rainelle's arms and handed her to Leone. "Get her to Winterfell. If we're not out of the castle before the bell rings, Leave, once you get there, talk with Lyanna and Rhaegar Stark. Tell them Orion Stark sent you." Leone nodded, a silent understanding passing between them.

Tears welled in Rainelle's eyes as she struggled to accept the separation. "There has to be another way," she pleaded. Orion, gripping her hand, met her gaze with a heavy heart. "There is no other way."

As Leone prepared to depart, Rainelle held onto the brief moments with her baby, sorrow painting her face. The impending threat forced them into a painful decision, and time slipped away like sand through their fingers.

Leone sprinted through the castle, grateful that the baby remained peacefully asleep. Though torn by leaving his best friend behind, he knew protecting the newborn took precedence. In a dark corridor, he encountered The damned, scrawny, burnt creatures from the depths of hell. Drawing his sword, Leone faced the menacing beings.

As they fixated on the baby, their charge began. Leone, swift and determined, struck down two of them, ensuring the child's safety. Surprisingly, the baby remained undisturbed, peacefully asleep amidst the chaos. Breathing heavily, Leone sheathed his sword, unaware of the remaining threat.

Unseen by Leone, a lone creature lunged, but before it could strike, the baby's eyes glowed purple. In an unexpected display of power, the creature fell lifeless. Leone, astonished, turned to the baby who was clapping and smiling. "Did you do that?" he asked in disbelief, and Riyah responded with happy coos.

"Thank you, little one," Leone expressed his gratitude, realizing the extraordinary nature of the child in his arms.

In the biting cold, Leone emerged into the snowy night, footsteps echoing in the silence as he navigated the forest. Concealed behind a tree, he anxiously awaited Rainelle and Orion. Hours stretched into eternity, and when the ominous bell finally tolled, signaling danger, neither of them emerged.

Holding back tears, Leone's resolve solidified. He moved purposefully towards the stable, determined to carry out Orion's wishes. With a heavy heart, he secured a horse and embarked on the journey through the forest, the long road to Winterfell lying ahead. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him as he rode into the unknown, the fate of the newborn and the future of House Stark-Targaryen resting on his shoulders.

Time skip to winterfell

The journey to Winterfell proved arduous, but Leone's arrival was met with the sight of the rising sun, ushering in a new day. Riding through the streets, he reached the entrance of the Stark house, where two guards stood vigilant.

"I'm here to see Lyanna and Rhaegar Stark. Tell them Orion Stark sent me," he declared, hoping the weight of his words would grant him entry. The guards exchanged whispers before one disappeared into the castle to relay the message.

After a few tense hours, the guard returned with Lyanna and Rhaegar by his side. Leone carefully dismounted, the sleeping baby in his arms. Rhaegar, memories resurfacing, acknowledged the name. "Orion Stark...I haven't heard that name in a long time."

Leone sighed sadly, delivering the painful news. "Your son has been murdered, sir, and he asked me to bring you his daughter if he didn't make it out." Lyanna gasped, tears welling in her eyes, her heart aching for the loss. Rhaegar, though silent, closed his eyes, grappling with the weight of the news.

"Is the baby okay?" Rhaegar inquired, regaining his composure. Leone nodded, and with a gesture, Rhaegar accepted the child, a silent acknowledgment of the sorrow and responsibility now shared between them.

Rhaegar gently cradled Riyah in his arms, marveling at the intriguing blend of Targaryen and Stark features she inherited. The sunlight played on her white hair, catching the subtle hue of light purple, a testament to her unique lineage. As he observed the stitching on the golden-emblazoned blanket, a symbol of her dual heritage, a warmth filled his heart.

With a soft smile, Rhaegar spoke words of welcome and protection, binding her fate to the ancient house of Stark. "Riyah Stark Targaryen will find solace within the sturdy walls of Winterfell. May the wolves of the North guard her path, and may the dragons of her bloodline watch over her journey," he declared with a solemnity that echoed through the quiet town.

The solemn moment marked a union of two great houses, an acknowledgment of Riyah's destined place among the wolves of the North. Rhaegar, with a sense of duty and affection, placed her back into the arms of leone, hoping that the alliance forged in that entrance way would stand the test of time. As the sun continued to cast its warm glow, a new chapter unfolded for Riyah Stark Targaryen within the ancient and storied walls of Winterfell.

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