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fushipurro · 5 months ago

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 4 - Black Star

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, gangs, gun violence, graphic depictions of death, blood, mentions of alcohol, creampie, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, biting

☆ Word Count: 6.9k (tehe)

A lot’s changed since you were last in Manzanita Post some years ago. What was once a one stop shop for hunting supplies has evolved into several storefronts, a couple homes, a dozen tents, and even a train station to increase foot traffic.

To reach Blackwater from Valentine, you inevitably had to pass through Tall Trees. You considered ignoring the fork in the road ─ one that takes you to either the post or the plains ─ to get to Kento sooner but ended up deciding on a quick trip down memory lane instead.

And a good decision that was; one you’ll realize in due time.

The general store in town happens to be where your father had met your mother. The business belonged to her family after all; at least… it did back then.

After some time spent perusing the store, running your fingers along the dusted shelves, you leave with your satchel full, stepping out into the midday sun. The redwood trees offer plenty of shade, but not enough to cover all of the sun’s golden warmth.

There’s an acrid smell in the air as soon as you step out, one with traces of metal mixed with harsh vapors ─ blood and smoke. The man responsible is more than aware of your presence.

His familiar green eyes already locked onto your form, all in that same midnight leather outfit. He smirks when you finally catch his gaze.

“We meet again I see, and so soon too,” he purrs, a laugh rumbling from deep in his chest. “You followin’ me, sweetheart?”

You huff, almost caught off by his amusement. Satoru claimed him to be a grouch, but all you see is a flirt. “Could say the same to you, Outlaw Killer.”

“Are you making a confession? I’d remember any wanted posters with your pretty face on ‘em,” he says with full confidence. You gotta give him credit for being bold, any woman would feel red in the face hearing that.

“Then you must not have seen today’s paper,” you tease, though really, it’s just an attempt at getting on equal footing. He’s got the looks, now you just need to see the personality.

“Do they even have it up to date this far in the woods?”

“Touché, but you came here for a reason, didn’t you?” you muse, quirking a brow as you shift your balance to one foot. “If not me, then what’s the reason?”

He takes a drag of his cigarette then turns his head upwards, exhaling into the light. “I go where there’s money, simple as that.”

A reasonable answer, one you can relate to in your own journey.

“Can’t imagine there’s much of that out here for you compared to Valentine,” you remark. If he wanted a job, that’s gonna be the place.

Tall Trees has never been the most hospitable of places to settle down in. Many try, but having run-ins with bears on your way to and from the outhouse each day doesn’t make for a quality stay. Unless you’re a hunter, and a brave one at that, this is not the place for you.

“Check again, cowgirl.” The man taps the back of his hand against a sheet of paper nailed to the shop’s log exterior ─ a wanted poster. “I think I’ll do just fine out here.”

Your curiosity grows, wondering what sort of outlaw is here of all places. Posters like these are few and far throughout the years in Manzanita Post, for the same reason as the lack of housing. Stepping closer, you now realize why there’s a need for such a thing here.

The outlaw wanted ─ dead or alive ─ is none other than the man who killed your parents.

You expect murder to be reason warranting this, but instead, it’s robbery. Just robbery.

The poster lists how he and his gang have been ambushing traders in the area, holding them at gunpoint for their supplies.

Why isn’t it murder though? You can’t honestly believe everyone’s unaware or has forgotten what this man did to your family. Since coming here, you’ve already seen some remnants of your mother’s side or family friends ─ one of which is taking care of your mares at the moment. But all it took was for one rich city-slicker to get robbed before the world started causing a fuss.

How aggravating.

“Someone you know?” he asks, all signs of romantic intent faded from his expression, replaced with his own budding curiosity.

“What makes you say that?” you snap, a certain hostility lacing your tone.

“Your face,” he says, gesturing with his cigarette. He appears unbothered by your slight outburst. “Could kill a man with those looks.”

If anyone’s getting killed today, it’s going to be that man. He deserves a fate worse than sitting behind bars in a city jail. A fate you can grant him.

You don’t reply to the bounty hunter though, merely turning on your heel in the direction of your horses. Leaves and twigs snap harshly with every step taken, fueled by an ignited rage.

The cowboy snuffs his cigarette beneath his steel toe boot, deciding to follow after you. He doesn’t have to ask where you’re going; the answer is obvious, and he wants in on the fun. You’ve barely make it out onto the road west of the post before he’s already at your side atop his steed.

“Mind if I join ya?” He grins, eagerness evident in his features.

You spare him a passing glance before looking back ahead.

“Do what you want.”

And so he does.

Toji, ends up proving to be refreshing company in a forest full of distant memories, aged like the trees themselves. Along the way, he recounts many tales of his previous hunts to you, all to help lighten the mood. Some are humorous, and others downright gloating, but you appreciate the distraction, nonetheless.

One such tale is about a guy who thought the best place he could lay low from the law would be some slippery rocks besides a stream of rapids. Needless to say, when coming face to face with someone as intimidating as Toji, the guy tried to flee, only to trip and fall into the current. It would’ve been funny had it not been a bounty where the reward would only come if they were still breathing upon return.

This went on for another dozen tales, all until arriving at the edge of Aurora Basin. And unlike the trading post, the lake hasn’t changed one bit.

On the far side along the shore, the cabin you called home still rests, nearly untouched save for nature’s reclaim. The afternoon sun makes it appear glowing in a thin sheet of gold; rays of light reflecting off the surface of calm waves and glass windows. In the distance, an elk can be heard and seen calling out for its herd. A bull and some cows, a few calves mixed in.

A family.

You wonder if the wolf dubbed Lobo still prowls these grand sequoias with his own pack. They no longer have the threat of humans mingling around their watering hole to worry. Not since the day you left these woods and into the frontier.

“Anything interesting?” Toji inquires, calling you back from your youthful reverie.

You take a moment to breathe in the familiar air that tickles your lungs with frostbite, shaking your head in response to the man. “Nah… just admiring the view is all.”

He hums, and although he’s unconvinced by your answer, he doesn’t push.

The remainder of the ride through the mountain pass is quiet, leaving you to ruminate your memories a little while longer.

You’ve spent enough time out here with all of Tall Trees as your backyard of play. You practically have a name for every tree and animal you’ve come across in your youth, all of which are now just a bitter reminder of what once was. You were born into this forest; it was your whole life. But for your father, it was an escape.

The gang he ran with originally was settled in the deserts down south, but he came here in search of a different life, separate from all the needless killings and petty thievery. He found that, and everything else he dreamt about having.

His biggest mistake however was thinking he could walk away from his past like nothing ever happened and believe there would be no repercussions.

Like many others in the growing world, the gang you’re hunting followed your father north for a fresh start as well. In doing so, they made their claim through the only way they know how.

Bloodshed.

“Hold up,” Toji suddenly says, drawing your focus. You turn to him as he’s already pulled a pair of binoculars from his bag, looking intently at something in the distance. “There’s a sniper up ahead in a lookout post.” He offers you his binoculars to confirm, and sure enough, you recognize the armed outlaw.

“Looks like we’re here,” you tell him, handing him back his gear.

Toji leans forward in the saddle over crossed arms, angling his head to look at you. “What is here, exactly?”

“Cochinay ─ the hideout of our target.” You move Valentine off the trail and into the undergrowth for cover. “We should go on foot from here on out,” you add, dismounting with your Springfield rifle in hand.

Toji hitches his black stallion ─ Blackjack ─ to a tree close by. “I get it’s none of my business and all but seeing as we’re fixin’ to bust through the doors of their camp, you might want to tell me a little more on what you know.”

Sadly, he’s got a point.

Your past isn’t something you often share, especially with someone you only recently met. Satoru was an exception ─ a brief glimpse at the overall picture of your youth. But this? This is where your old self died, marking the birth of the you from today. It would be wise to at least give Toji something to work with. And so, you sigh, and begin to tell him.

“I’ve got some history with this gang,” you start, moving stealthily through the shrubbery on your approach to the camp. “My father was a longtime member, he was born into their way of living.”

“Guessin’ that’s where you got the nerve to charge into an outlaw camp twice now including this?” His words referencing Suguru and his gang. You glance back over your shoulder, seeing the knowing smirk on his face. “What, don’t look surprised,” he laughs quietly, “I wouldn’t be a very good bounty hunter if I didn’t have eyes on everything goin’ on, now would I?”

Rolling your eyes, you press on, creeping closer to your destination. A wooden wall comes into view ─ high and spiked at the top. It wouldn’t surprise you to find some carcasses staked and on display as a warning to anyone who comes too close.

“Everything I am is because of my parents, not some degenerate group whose only motivation is liquor or gold,” you scoff. “Outlaws or not, I was raised to not back down.”

“So what happened to them?” His questions stops you dead in your tracks. Toji moves to your side to get a better look at you, your head hanging low, with eyes glued to some hummingbird sage at your feet. You reach out to said petals, the violet color meshing with the shadows and fading sunlight.

“That man on the poster.” You pause, drifting your gaze from the flower to Toji as a breeze kicks up, taking some of those very petals away and into the air. “He killed them.”

“I see,” he replies, offering no consoling words after. You’re glad, because what good would they do now? It’s neither the time nor place, and the memories you have are just that.

Memories.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Life will always go on and all you can do is ride it out like a rodeo bronc, hoping that in time, everything will calm.

“You here for revenge then? I’ll warn you now, that can get pretty messy if you’re not careful.”

“Something like that, but don’t worry about me.” You end the discussion before he can say more by moving up along the wall.

He snorts though, continuing to follow. “Didn’t say I would,” Toji mumbles under his breath. Really, he doesn’t think he has to, given your headstrong attitude. So long as your arrogance doesn’t get in the way ─ you should be just fine.

You end up finding a section of the wall where the wood is rotted, or chewed away, enough so that it can be removed with ease, making for a silent entry. It’s funny how common of a theme this is becoming. Do these gangs not pay attention to their security? Even on the inside, the grass is kept tall with a plethora of barrels and wagons that are perfect to hide behind.

The camp itself is divided on the inside into multiple sections. With steep mountains resting on either side, any efforts to scale around would be futile. The only way to the heart of said mountains is through two sets of gates, the first of which has a pair of guards on sentry duty.

The only way to reach your goal is to go in guns blazing.

“Cover me while I handle the guards?” Toji requests, as if reading your mind. You respond with slight nod of your head, readying your rifle. “Best not to stray far once we make ourselves known.”

“Don’t go running in front of my sights now,” you tease, and he laughs one final time before his expression turns serious.

Toji sneaks around in front of you, inching closer to the gate. Once far enough away, you let a sigh when you know he can’t hear. It’s easy to feel safe in a camp of outlaws when your partner is coined the outlaw killer, but you can’t forget that you’re up against the man that shattered your family. One mistake, and you’ll be joining them six feet under, assuming they were ever buried to begin with.

“Howdy gentlemen.” Toji stalks up to the men seemingly without a care, tipping his hat all the while. One hand remains hooked on his belt, close to the iron at his hips.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the guards questions, not waiting for his response as his finger meets the trigger of his rifle.

Too slow. The bullet from yours whistles past Toji and into the outlaw’s skull. Their body collapsing with a heavy thump.

“Intru–“

The other guard’s cry for help is silenced midway by a blow from Toji’s revolver. Either way, there was never a need to make the announcement, not when the sound of gunfire is echoing against the canyon walls.

From there, everything quickly turns to a blur fueled by adrenaline. With a revolver in one hand, and a sawed off in the other, Toji unleashes hell upon the camp while you snipe from afar.

The gate to the second area opens, cueing the arrival of a dozen more outlaws, completely underestimating what they’re up against. Their screams are nightmarish, as if met by Death himself, dressed head to toe in black leather stained in crimson tones.

Toji’s downright sinister smile never falters while reveling in the carnage crafted by his own making. It evokes a primal feeling from within watching one man inflict such destruction upon those who upended your life.

“Move up!” he shouts to you, stepping past bodies into the next section of camp. More outlaws await, fixing to meet their final breaths with an anguishing cry.

In your haste to keep up, you fail to notice one of the cowards slipping close to the wall as you enter. They grab your ankle unexpectantly, forcing you down and into the dirt. The outlaw kicks your rifle away, pinning your body down with their knee at the small of your back.

This position makes it near impossible to fight back, and your mind starts to race with thoughts and memories, flashing before your eyes. What a pathetic way this would be to meet your demise, and at the hands of some lowlife no less. For a split second, you wonder whether you should keep squirming or let the inevitable come sooner.

You wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

You may even see your family sooner, contrary to the brave front you always have up.

No sooner do you feel their grip loosening, on top of something wet hitting your back like rainfall. A long, serrated hunting knife falls dangerously close before your face. It’s blade and handle coated in fresh blood.

“Get up!” You hear Toji’s voice shouting at you.

Using the newfound freedom, you take the bloodied handle, curling your body around before snapping your arm to the side without any hesitation, slicing the outlaw’s throat. They cry painfully before meeting their end, choking on their own blood.

Toji rushes over, pulling you up by your arm. “Why didn’t you yell for me?” he says, his voice tinged with subtle anger, like a scolding parent. Another outlaw tries to take advantage of this reprieve but is quickly met with the barrel of Toji’s shotgun point blank between their eyes.

Another one down.

“It doesn’t matter,” you claim, picking your rifle back up. He doesn’t buy it, still giving you that disapproving stare.

“Stick close, I mean it,” he warns, waving his finger at you. His tone leaves no room to argue either.

You throw your rifle over your shoulder, swapping it out for dual revolvers prime for close combat. With your backs together, the two of you shoot all who dare to come close, sometimes maneuvering your arms around the other like a ballroom dance. Bullets fly all around, making you duck and twirl, spinning as one with elaborate footing.

“Cover me, will ya?” you call out over the gunfire into Toji’s ears. He responds by picking up his pace, refusing to let any threats near while you turn to an ole reliable from out of your satchel. Dynamite.

It’s not often you get the chance to use some explosives, especially without any drawbacks. You more than happily light it up before tossing it towards the innermost gate.

The blast ruptures, collapsing the gate and one of the guard towers as well. Pieces of the fence go flying in all directions, one even impaling another outlaw in the chest before your bullet could fire.

It takes a minute before the smoke clears, finally allowing you to see into the heart of the camp ─ seeing him as you do.

The bounty’s face is twisted with displeasure, knowing full well the dire state he’s in. It’s only a matter of time before his life and all his claims are forfeit to the one he took it all away from.

You pull up your rifle once again, aiming down the sights at his sorry face. Realization dawns on him the moment he meets your eyes through the scope, and right as you fire, he bolts down into a cave.

“Shit,” you hiss, abandoning Toji’s side to take pursuit. He shouts for you again, but his voice is clouded by the bloodlust you feel with your prey before you.

This isn’t your first time up in Cochinay, so you know full well the many tunnels feeding through the mountains. While they most likely provide shelter for the gang, they also offer a means of escape if need be.

You can’t let him get away.

With that said, you know exactly which paths to take to catch up. The bastard never even bothered to learn the best route to escape you soon realize. He was far too confident that nothing could take him down.

Big mistake.

It’s ironic how he took your father from you before your very own eyes, and then your mother’s soon after. Yet now, in the face of the one who got away, all he can feel is fear.

If your father is watching past the clouds in the skies, he’d be proud to know how far you’ve come and how close you are to avenging him. He raised you to outshine him in every way, and with this ─ you’ll finally have closure.

You fire a warning shot past the outlaw’s head and into the rocky formation.

“Turn around,” you demand, your voice cold as the ice clinging to these very mountaintops.

He does so, his voice quivering as he yells, “You can’t kill me!”

You kiss your teeth. “The hell I can.”

“You ran when I gutted your parents; I’m not afraid of you!” A lie, evident in his demeanor that’s starting to crack under the pressure.

“And yet you’re doing the same,” you scoff, further adding a manic laugh ─ Sukuna’s influence, taking hold. “The difference between you and me is that I never ran because I was scared.”

“Liar,” he spits, but you ignore him to continue.

“I ran to live another day. To roam this beautiful earth doing damn well what I please because I’m free!” You pause, taking aim with your gun. “You won’t be taking anything else from me.”

“Watch me.”

He moves to draw his gun from his hip, but you’re faster. You’ve always been faster.

Click.

Widened eyes and a look of shock replaces your features. You’re out of ammo.

That moment of weakness is enough for the outlaw to fire his own round, and it hits ─ igniting your arm with fiery pain.

“Got you now, bitch!” He charges at you and grapples your waist, sending you down into the cold stone, hard. The force knocks the wind right out of you, but you can’t lose yourself now. You got lucky with his mistake, but the next will cost your life if you don’t start fighting back.

You’ve angered him with your words, and now he wants you to suffer.

He has you on the defensive against his blows, pounding at you with his fists. “I’m not afraid of you!” he shouts between his onslaught, one landing right over your injured arm, raised as a shield. “I’ve been running this gang since before you were born. I can always rebuild and conquer again!”

He poses his fist high in the air to strengthen the next blow, and in your weakening state, you’re not sure you’d be able to handle it.

“Give your father my regards,” he says with finality, only for that very hand to rupture at the sound of thunder rocking the mountain in turn. You lift your head up to see Toji ─ a rolling block rifle in his hands, giving you the opening needed to finish this once and for all.

You reach for the gun still bound to the outlaw’s holster, turning it on him. “Won’t have to… because you’ll be seeing him first,” you chuckle, pulling the trigger.

As it turns out, this revolver belonged to your father. A fitting way to take revenge.

The tunnel is painted red with your words, sealing the outlaw’s fate. His limp body falls forward overtop your own, the light gone from his eyes. Toji rushes over, easily lifting the dead weight from you.

“What did I say about sticking close?” he scolds, offering you a hand to lift you up. “Could’ve gotten yourself killed; you know that? Unbelievable.”

“You sound like my dad,” you tell him while laughing before he flicks you on the forehead.

Looking down at his future paycheck, he sighs, but then cracks a smile that shows nothing but joy.

“You did it, cowgirl. How’re ya feelin’?”

“Relieved,” you say; relief from knowing the cause for your traumatic past is lying in a pool of his own blood at your feet. “Although I did get shot,” you add. The way you say that makes it sound like it’s a daily occurrence.

He flicks you again for that.

“Come on,” he drawls with a hefty sigh. “Let’s go raid their shit so we can patch you up.”

The moon is high in the sky as you sit along the edge of a wagon, an oil lantern providing enough light for Toji to work. Thanks to the bastard’s shaky hands, the bullet missed its mark, narrowly grazing your arm instead of anything important. You’ll live, but you need a few stitches to close the wound.

“Gonna tell me now what you was going on in your head?”

“I don’t know what you mea– ow, watch it!” You wince when he tugs the thread a little too hard.

He mumbles a haphazard apology. “Don’t play dumb with me ‘cause I know you’re not. Twice today you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” He sounds annoyed telling you all this, but it’s coming a place of worry, whether you believe it or not.

“I’m not used to relying on others,” you admit after a minute of silence, taking a shot of some liquor to dull the pain in your arm and soul. As expected, this camp is riddled with various bottles and supplies ─ all free for the taking now.

“You don’t say,” he teases, and you shoot him a glare that he laughs off.

The next several minutes are spent in silence, admiring his handiwork. The needle and thread appear comically small in his hands, yet he offers a delicate touch. It’s safe to say this isn’t the first time he’s had to stitch up a wound, and you appreciate not having to do it yourself.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve learned not to rely on anyone either,” he tells you, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. The flame of the lantern burns bright in his eyes, reflecting amber tones mixed in a forest of green.

“I’m starting to get the feeling you have your own troubled past,” you muse, hissing at the final few tugs of the stitching.

“You don’t say,” he says again, that flirtatious tone from earlier returning. The gruffness of his voice ─ so close to your body ─ has your eyes fluttering back. His body being the only source of heat amidst the chilling air of the nighttime hours makes you wish to be closer, to embrace that heat.

He wraps a bandage nice and snug around your arm, dropping his hands to either side of your body, effectively caging you. You could shuffle away as there’s nothing but empty space behind you, but why leave the fire for the cold, when you instead could stoke the flames?

“Was there something else you wanted to say?” you ask in sultry tune, turning your head slightly to the side.

Toji moves closer, his eyes never leaving yours for even a second. His nose brushes against your neck, shamelessly taking in your scent. One hand moves up your arm, lingering on the side of your head, supporting its weight for better access.

“No,” he whispers against your ear, relishing in sound that involuntarily leaves your lips. So sensitive, he thinks to himself, and oh how he’s going to enjoy that soon. “There’s somethin’ I’d like to do though.”

Your hand comes up to meet his chest, bundling the fabric and urging him down to you. “Yeah?” you whisper back into his ear, smiling against his skin. “And what would that be?”

He chuckles, pulling back to see the look on your face when he tells you. You can see the desire building in his eyes, the lids half-narrowed, ready to swallow you whole into oblivion.

“You.”

You take your hand away from his chest, moving slowly down until reaching his belt, grinning all the while. “Well, aren’t you bold? I can’t say I’m not thinking the same way.”

Toji holds your wrist securely in his hand, pulling it further down his body. He pleasingly groans when you comply by palming him over his dark denim jeans. He lets go of your wrist in exchange for your head, clumping your hair together and fervently directing your lips to his.

It’s a heated exchange, but not the ravenous sort with tongue and teeth mangling together. In return, he bruises your lips with power hungry kisses ─ frenzied with passion and longing. His other hand lowers itself near the apex of your thigh, the tightness of his grip changing with the pressure of your hand against his core.

He's huge, that much is certain. What a lucky girl you are to keep finding such delectable men in only a few days time.

Finally, he lets go of your mouth, allowing you the chance to breathe in shared air. “Take it out.” His voice is deepened and straining, with a sense of underlying urgency.

While you’re messing with his belt, he looks down on with a sinful stare, treasuring the near desperation in how fast you’re trying to get to him. Your reaction to its size is priceless, a sight that never disappoints, and he’s not even fully hard yet.

“My turn,” is all he says before his hands are on you. You hope the sound of fabric ripping is all in your hand, or maybe a twig snapping in the distance (it’s not).

The two of you then share a moment of reverence for the other, tracing each other’s body and sex as if committing to memory a divine work of art.

“So pretty,” he praises, trailing a finger between your folds. “And so wet for me, too,” he sighs breathily, eyes fluttering shut when you let out another angelic sound.

You place your hand back around his cock, feeling his hip stutter in response, rutting once into your hand. Using his free hand to balance himself, Toji descends again upon your lips kissing more sloppily with the growing ecstasy. He throws his head back when you tease the spot just under the tip before throwing himself back onto you ─ swallowing up every whimper and moan when his finger finally pushes its way through.

His finger ─ thick and calloused ─ curls inwards over that sweet spongy spot, forcing your back into an arch, demanding you to ride his knuckles for more.

“Toji,” you mewl with an air of arousal peaking; a plead, for him.

He adds another finger making you gasp in response, and he uses this opportunity to dip his tongue far into your mouth. The flavor is intoxicating, an unhealthy mix of aged rum meeting his preferred brand of cigarettes ─ the ones with the series of cards to collect.

Gambling was always one of his favorite hobbies, and he’s glad to have gone all-in on you. For once, it worked in his favor, and now you’re coming undone by the very hands dealing the cards to win.

Your hands start to shake when he adds a third finger, stretching you out from the inside while rolling a thumb along your clit. Your grip around him quivers, drawing out a resounding groan. Despite how big and intimidating he is, it all ends the same when they’re wrapped around your finger. Needy, and with such pretty noises that are music to your ears.

The kiss breaks, but only enough to breathe while your tongues remain tied together for a few seconds longer. He presses his forehead to yours, pupils blown, staring right into yours. Beads of sweat fall along your cheeks, cooling your heated skin. The alcohol in your system works not only to numb any pain but also to help enrapture your body, flushing your cheeks a cardinal tone.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asks, curling his fingers again making your whole body twitch. His cock does the same, leaking heavily with beads of cum. You can feel his veins practically beating at the same pace of your heart.

“Fuck ─ I could ask you the same thing.”

“Go on then,” he chuckles, trying to hide how shaken up he is. You hardly need to do much of anything with your hand as he starts jerking himself on you without shame. His lips return to your ear, biting at the lobe when he whispers, “Cum for me.”

Your jaw falls slack with the euphoric feeling. Your body spasming around his fingers, clenching with no remorse for his trapped fingers. With that, Toji can’t hold himself back from letting lose onto your hand, spilling out a heavy load of white.

The stars overhead are but a blur to you now in your high, a mere backdrop to the heaven on earth feeling coursing through each of your veins.

He pulls back from your body, grinning when he hears you whining at the loss. The real show has yet to even begin, this foreplay merely the opening act for a night to remember.

You watch as he takes those same three fingers, wet with slick, and runs them each into his mouth. His eyes closing with a heavy sigh as he indulges in your taste.

“Mhmm, so sweet.” He drinks up your reddened look, another spark of arousal hitting you at the sight of his joy.

You can’t help but do the same when you notice the mess in your hand ─ raising it up so you too can partake in this flavorful exchange.

That grin on his face grows even wider than before. “Beautiful,” he praises breathlessly. “Now come here.” He beckons you by curling those same fingers that were inches inside you mere moments ago.

Effortlessly, Toji lifts you up and off the wagon, leaving behind the only source of light as he walks you to some bedrolls he laid out earlier in anticipation of spending the night.

He kisses you gently this time ─ the calm before the storm about to come. While doing so, he removes the remainder of your clothes thus freeing your chest to his eyes. You do the same for him, one button at a time until all that’s left is the statue of a god, adorned with many scars that map history across flesh.

Another moment of reverence, from one godlike figure to another.

“Turn around. On your knees.” He watches you wordlessly obey, shifting himself behind you. With two hands on either side of your hips, he raises you up into his full view. The sight of your cunt glistening with fluid is captivating, inducing a sense of frenzy.

He kisses you there first, then draws a stripe with his tongue before burying it between the velvet lining. A prelude for what’s to come, once he’s quenched his thirst. You can almost cum again just from that, but he stops just in time to keep you riled up.

“Just fuck me already, Toji,” you say, a mix of warning and urgency on your tongue.

His palm meets the globe of your ass, not enough to hurt, but enough to be known and shock your body. “And how do you ask?”

“Please?” you reply, matching his mocking tone.

“Good girl.”

Next thing you know, his tip is hot against you, rubbing loosely between your folds. You jolt when it grazes your clit, groaning with anticipation. But before you can utter another word ─ another plead ─ he bullies his way inside, stretching you more than his fingers possibly could.

A burning pain hits you from the sudden intrusion. “Fuck!”

“There, there,” he coos, one thumb over your clit. “You wanted me, so take it.”

He watches with marvel at how his cock disappears into your cunt, his whole body shuddering in reaction.

“’S too much, Toji.” Hell, he and Sukuna are in their own tier when it comes to size.

“Shh, you’re almost there, sweetheart.” He grunts feeling you tighten around him, so eager to please and be praised. “I could get used to this.”

A few moments are all you get to steady yourself before he’s moving. His hands gliding along every curve, mark, and dimple gracing your back, tracing up your spine and back around to your hips. As his pace increases, so do his sounds. Each thrust is accompanied with deep, heavy sighs and salacious groans.

“You like this, huh?” His words barely register in your ears, too drunk off the way his cock hits your cervix with each thrust. He leans down, hunching over your back while at the same time snaking an arm around to your front. “What h-hahppened to your words, sweets?” A whimper catches in his throat. “Where’s that pretty voice callin’ my name?”

“Toji!” You cry out feeling his sharp, wolfish fangs burying themselves in your neck. One hand holding you at your stomach right over where his tip reaches, and the other loosely around your throat in a show of a dominance.

“What was that?” He sneers against your ear, his breathing growing more erratic by the second. “Gotta speak up and tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” you moan, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth.

“Who?”

“Y-you ─ Toji.” Another moan, higher pitched than before.

“Again,” he growls.

“Toji, Toji, ‘Oji-ahh!”

You keel over in his hold, violently shaking as an orgasm tears through your body like lightning. Wetness gushes out from you, rolling down your thighs and onto his lap.

“So fucking good ─ shit.” His arms tighten and he leans his weight further into you, pushing your body into the bedroll with only one thought in his mind. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?” He moves the hand on your stomach down to your clit, inciting the bundle of nerves with rough circular motions that serve to overstimulate you. “You’d like that?”

“Yes, yes! Please!” you whine as he forces you straight into another orgasm. With how sensitive you are, all coherent thoughts are erased except for Toji, Toji, Toji. In this pursuit of pleasure, he’s all that matters.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, his voice straining, “Now take it!”

With one final cry of his name, warmth floods your body. Your nails dig into the sheets, uncontrollably squirming in a puddle of drool, cum, and slick. For a moment, you think you may have even passed out, because next thing you know, you’re on your side still wrapped in Toji’s embrace. His cock still several inches deep, with no apparent hurry to pull out.

The two of you lay like this for some time, coming down from the high mountaintops of euphoria. Black and white spots in your vision slowly morphing back into stars and the picturesque view of the Milky Way galaxy watching over you both. No words need to be shared. This is all you desire.

You never thought that one out of blue trip to a town like Valentine could jumpstart a whole new chapter in your life, subsequently closing the pages of old, tossing it to the flames. You never outright planned on taking revenge on the man who tore apart your family, but knowing you were there to see him crumble in his final moments brings a sense of tranquility you haven’t felt for some time.

Wherever you go from here, you know that it’ll work out. The future is in your hands ─ a frontier of its own, now ready to be explored without regret.

You wake the next morning to Toji brewing a pitcher of coffee over the campfire. He hears you stirring from sleep, turning his gaze to yours with a content smile. There’s no arrogance or lustful feature ─ only a type of calm you see best at dawn.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

“Morning,” you respond with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your voice is both thick with sleep and hoarse from screaming one man’s name a dozen times over.

He chuckles amusingly, pouring you a fresh hot cup. “Sleep well?”

Well, besides the whole-body ache… “Like a baby,” you tease. It’s a miracle your stitches didn’t open up once.

You take your time to enjoy the coffee and the morning view. Dawn always looked best up in these mountains with the cascading trees and fields of sage. If you close your eyes, you can hear all the familiar calls of birds and other wildlife mingling ─ the forest teeming with life at every inch.

“When we get his body back to town, that reward money’s all yours,” he says, while standing to stretch his limbs.

You shake your head. “Don’t bother, I got my revenge. That’s all I really wanted.”

Toji can’t be too upset at your words, it’s more money for him. He was already going to happily sell whatever he could find in all these dead outlaws’ pockets for his efforts, anyways.

“Ain’t that a shame.” He places a hand on his hip, green eyes cast down at your form.

“You know, we make a good team,” he starts up again after a brief minute of silence. “You ever thought about becoming a full-time bounty hunter?”

He flashes that devious smile of his once more, his sharp canines poking through when he curls that scarred lip upwards.

“Not a bad offer,” you hum, “Especially after last night.”

It’s honestly a thought you’ve had from time to time. There are always outlaws to hunt and money to make; you’ve done it before and if yesterday proved anything, it’s that you can handle yourself even when pitted against an entire gang.

As it stands, there are several options open to you now, with many possibilities for how life will unfold from here on out.

“So what do you say, cowgirl?”

☆ Notes: I’d like to thank past me for coming up with the dad lore in earlier chapters on the spot, because I honestly didn’t expect to make it a whole theme for this chapter until I started writing it. Gonna be sad though seeing this series end soon, but I’ve got a dozen more stories I plan on writing, and I’m always open for more cowboy content in the future :)

Also, just to throw in my own little headcanon with the forehead flicking and all… you always see Megumi smacking Yuji or whoever when he’s scolding, and I like to imagine he got that from Toji or maybe even Mamaguro since Toji’s strong enough to take it (not in the domestic violence sense, but you know what I mean?)

#jjk #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji zenin #jjk au #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x female reader #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #cowboy!au #toji x y/n

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ladystarksneedle · 11 months ago

Text

Greedy

Summary: A lady at sea finds warmth amidst its endless waters.

Warnings: angst, mentions of voyeurism, infidelity, period typical sexism and misogyny, derogatory language, rumor mongering, slight canon divergence.

Word count: 7.5k

Dividers by @saradika

She clawed at the threads in her lap, entangling them for the third time as her husband droned on about the costs of war. There were ramparts, fortifications and more men needed at Tarth to stop the incursion of the Triarchy that he spoke of, agitating himself further as he paced before her, taking her absent minded humming in response to be borne out of interest. The “War of the Stepstones" as it had come to be known, was the newest point of conversation throughout the realm from the Blackwater to the Bay of Crabs, with every household eager to contribute their share of mockery, awe or support. The Valyrians, she thought, had always managed to entrench everyone in their affairs.

Sadly she hadn't found an inch of interest in the one before her.

She had been delivered to Claw Isle almost a year ago, packaged rather gaudily in fabrics of silk and gold, to be unwrapped by the lord of salty seas and misty air. He'd torn in rather clumsily, mistaking haste for pleasure, like a crab feasting at her shore, yet no tears came to her, all the salt had seemingly washed away before she'd entered Crackclaw point. The castle stood surprisingly tall, jutting out of the small island located to the south of Dragonstone, close enough to hear the roars of the beasts of long forgotten might and far enough to be sheltered from their unexpected wrath. She'd often look out her window, imagining what they'd look like, though a year had passed and she had yet to catch a glimpse of them. Some of the locals claimed they'd seen one, a “gray ghost” they'd called it, as elusive as the fog lining the seas, scaring away the fishermen trying to make their catch for the day. They were baseless rumors to her, all the same, recited idly at tea by the ladies of the Point, when they'd run out of their keepsake of slanders. Dragons to her were beasts of myth and true as they might be, posed no consequence to her life, until now.

“Prince Daemon has assembled an army of ten thousand men with Lord Corlys Velaryon. It would be folly to not join such an endeavor.”

“You mean to join the war?” she asked incredulously “We hardly have the numbers.”

“If those shipping lanes fall it affects us all dear wife or have you not been paying attention.”

“I have, husband” she huffed “But decisions made in haste cost dearly. Claw Isle boasts enough wealth to tide us through this predicament without meriting involvement, as you've proclaimed countless times yourself, why then should we waste our men and resources?”

“You're a woman Belinda and as witty as you might be, you do not understand the consequences of uninvolvement. Tarth may very well be under siege as we speak” he remarked.

“And what has the King to say for this expedition undertaken by his brother, I doubt it is with his full consent, ten thousand men seems quite less of a number for a royal army does it not?” she replied back “But yes you're right, I'm just a woman, what would I know about numbers when it is your forte dear husband. I shall leave you to your accounts in peace” she said as she left his chambers with a swift peck to his cheek, quick to evade his reply.

“You must learn when to keep your mouth shut daughter, the ability to do so shall last you long” her mother's words were tight around her neck, a noose waiting to throttle her should she stray too far and though she hadn't managed to keep her wayward tongue in check, she'd found out soon enough that scraps of affection meted out at opportune moments often did the trick.

Dinner proved to be less in her favor. Bartimos was ever eager in spirit, having invited the lords of the neighboring keeps to convene on pretext of merriment. While she sat drinking with the ladies whispering animatedly amongst themselves at the other end of the hall, she realized just how hard headed he could really be. Perhaps her mother was right and there was still more to learn.

“Have you heard the tales of Lady Swann? It is such a tragedy. I've heard she's been sold to a pillow house in Lys”

“She was always a wild one, I've heard. I'm sure she'll do just fine there” chirped Lady Crabb, ever the glutton at any such occasion.

“You have quite the tongue Lady Crabb, you must learn to hold it lest you earn the likeness of the Crabfeeder himself” snickered another.

“Perhaps he styles himself after your own lord husband” remarked Lady Brunes, her fellow at arms of wit.

“Jest all you want ladies, but there is some truth to it. My husband was knighted at the mere age of four and ten, how many of yours can claim such laurels. It will be him who'll bring glory back to Crackclaw point and you'll be all the fools for it” huffed Lady Crabb clawing at the pearls around her neck.

Being the youngest among them had its merits in times like these. Despite being the hostess she was seldom asked her opinions, merely considered to be in accordance with the consensus they reached as the wine dried up and their husbands returned to eagerly escort them back home. Feasts in the Crownlands often had one way of ending, with most of them on their backs. As the bed creaked below her, she realized her’s would be a happy one. Sweaty and sated, she lay next to him as he struggled to catch his breath, exhausting himself to fruition this once. Bartimos seemed to outperform whenever he had a point to make, in matters that required more convincing on his part. She only wished they were more in number and came more often.

“We shall leave for Driftmark in three days' time” he said as he turned to sleep, blowing off the candles near them. “It is a good thing Belinda, you'll come to realize soon enough. You'll even get to see those dragons you've been so curious about.”

“They do not interest me as much as you think” she thought “But if admitting to it makes you more amiable in bed I might as well go set up camp there, husband” she pondered as she drifted off to sleep dreaming of distant roars and crashing waves engrossed in a hazy tussle of their own.

Driftmark proved to be a much grander island. They'd sailed for a day to get there, bypassing Dragonstone on the way. The captain of their ship had pointed it out, a black speck of monstrous rock jutting out from the coast, with a multitude of deep rumbles reverberating through the masts, as they had sailed past. It felt ominous and rather insidious, intriguing enough for her to want to halt and explore for the first time since they'd left, but her husband wished for no time to be wasted and ordered them to sail ahead. High Tide shone bright under the sun as they'd arrived, its pale stone greeting them in a stark contrast to the home of their Valyrian overlords. The Castle was said to have been newly built by Lord Corlys with all the wealth he'd amassed on his nine voyages, its turrets gleaming haughtily at them with their beaten silver tops. They'd been ushered in shortly, with their infantry in tow to the “Hall of Nine” in attendance before him as he sat atop the Driftwood Throne.

“We welcome you to High Tide, Lord Bartimos. The support of the Celtigars, in these trying times is much appreciated” he boomed.

“Thank you for your graciousness Lord Corlys” he smiled as she fidgeted near him.

“Perhaps your lady wife would like to rest as we get to the matter at hand, the journey would have been quite tiring for those not accustomed to it” he said as she was ushered away to the depths of the Castle by one of the Velaryon ladies nearby.

“Princess Rhaenys shall receive you my lady, please follow me. I am Daena, cousin to Corlys in case you're wondering. We have assembled here to convene on our own council” she stated, leading her up the winding stairs to a hall overlooking the Bay. At its head sat none other than the lady of the manor, Rhaenys Targaryen, a tall woman with a welcoming smile in tow “Lady Celtigar so good of you to join us, welcome to High Tide.”

There were more than a dozen ladies in the room who turned to look at her, the Velaryons with their teal dresses and silver locks, a few from Crackclaw point that she recognised immediately, ladies Crabb and both the Brunes, of Dyre Den and Brownhollow, ladies Bar Emmon and Staunton and a few stromlanders judging by the intricate braids on their heads who greeted her in response. Lady Daena led her to her seat as they resumed speaking, each advocating for their preferred course of action. As she observed their leader at the head of the table listening intently to each prompt she wondered why a dragon rider such as her wasn't involved in the affairs of the main council. Noticing her inquisitive stare she turned to address them once again “We have dragons and they are more than sufficient to weed this Crabfeeder out of his cave. My son Laenor shall be joining Prince Daemon, leading from above though your support at both sea and ground is much appreciated. We shall soon be rid of this menace together” she spoke with pride. “We've hosted a feast tonight as an inauguration of our joint partnership. Please rest, explore and enjoy your stay before we meet again ” she concluded.

The beaches of Driftmark were a true wonder, she thought as she strolled along unbothered by the sand coating her stockings. They were unlike Claw Isle, with white sand stretching endlessly surrounded by pristine blue waters, secluded and picturesque. “Could wealth be used to acquire such beauty? Perhaps Lord Corlys’ expeditions had played a part in shaping the sea before her too” she considered enjoying her solitude. Her path soon led her to a hut, nestled away surrounded by a bed of grass, small enough to be overlooked, making her walk towards it, observing its peculiar vantage point overlooking the sea. As she passed through the rickety gate, she heard shuffling inside before coming across a man leaning against one of the posts. His eyes lit up as she came into view, trailing over her, before a smirk etched itself onto his face.

“Well Hello” he drawled lazily.

“Apologies my lord I didn't know someone was here” she replied hastily.

“Do you often walk into other's properties at will, my lady?” he inquired mockingly.

“I considered it abandoned” she flushed. “I was merely curious”

“Hmm” he said, appraising her “It is not safe to be wandering these waters alone, considering the threat that looms ahead”

“But I am not alone” she quipped back.

He chuckled as he made his way towards her.

“And what a sharp tongue you've got there. It would be a shame if that were the only weapon at your disposal”

“I don't think it wise for you to want to find out” she replied, standing her ground.

His smirk widened as he brushed past her, leaning down to whisper into the shell of her ear “Welcome to Driftmark my lady, your claws do you justice.”

Evening couldn't arrive fast enough. Her encounter with the man at the beach left her more shaken once she came to realize who he was. Bartimos spoke of the surprising absence of Prince Daemon from their war council, baffled as he dressed in haste. She merely shook her head in response, finding the lord or rather the prince she'd met, to be all the more intriguing. Dinner proved to be a lavish affair with an assortment of opulence. Dishes of roasted duck glazed with honey adorned the plates before them, along with sardines and roasted tomatoes coated with fennel and saffron. There were freshly picked cherries and apricots, apple and cinnamon pies and a heap of lemon cakes being passed around the hall, along with overflowing cups of Dornish red mocking the enemies they were to face. She sat next to known faces, taking comfort in familiarity amidst the novelty she'd found herself in, while Lady Crabb delighted in the feast before her, munching away wholly unbothered by her sullenness. Her husband was in better spirits after the toasts that had been made to their victory, conversing heartily with Lord Staunton as she looked about inquisitively.

Prince Daemon sat at the head of the table flanking Lord Corlys to the left looking disinterested as he sipped his wine, pretending to listen in to the conversation at hand. She smiled to herself at the glazed look in his eyes, present for a fleeting moment before wandering again to places far beyond her reach. One of the Velaryon lords next to Princess Rhaenys, Ser Vaemond, if she remembered correctly, said something which swiftly brought him back.

“Perhaps you'd like to find out for yourself Ser Vaemond, Caraxes would be all the more willing” he said smirking “A toast then” he spoke standing up as the chatter died down.“To our allies and their good health, may you weather the battle ahead well” he said as a few cheered in response. “And to our enemies, near and beyond, narrow be their deaths, narrow be their beds” he said looking around “To our appetite for war” he spoke at last, winking at him as the man below him gazed back in defiance “and more” he finished seemingly staring right at her. She squirmed with apprehension as the crowd erupted in cheers “Hear, hear” they chanted “To the Rogue Prince Daemon” , they continued, banging their cups on the spread in front.

She wondered if her husband realized what he partook in, as the celebrations continued, forever wanting for fame and glory begotten through company, only for her to be the unwitting recipient of the eye of the Dragon.

As the evening drew close and Bartimos drunkenly staggered through the halls supported by his peers, she fought back a scoff. He bade her goodnight, eager to continue his quest for companionship while she politely shut the door waiting to leave their chambers as soon as she felt the coast was clear. Drawing her robe close she snuck out to explore, excited at her newfound freedom, delighting in the sliver of opportunity she'd happened upon. High Tide was quiet as the waves lapped the shore in the distance, a peaceful contrast to the jeers of the evening. A few servants scurried about bowing as they passed by her without question, perhaps to tend to the many guests that the castle currently housed. It was relatively easy to navigate with its shiny walls of pale stone mixed with wood twisting to form an interesting maze. She passed by low chandeliers, banisters with carvings of sea creatures, walls of teal painted with murals of voyages at sea, retinues of Velaryon soldiers and seafarers shouting orders and rowing through storms, intricately decorating the hallways. Statues of oceanic figures greeted her, lining each corridor connecting together till she came upon one, wooden and endless, larger than the rest, with a small alcove at the end. Darting ahead at once to claim it for her own, she stopped as she heard an unfamiliar sound. A soft moan greeted her at the end followed by a series of grunts and the all too familiar sound of skin slapping against each other making her peer in. A maid lay bent over the edge, her dress ruched up to her waist as he pounded into her roughly muffling her sighs with his hand, her own clinging desperately to the railing ahead. “Quiet, I do not wish to hear you wench” he remarked, brutally thrusting into her as she whined. She watched, shocked and unable to move as he finished within her with a grunt, his silver hair falling over her shoulders, before turning around to face the door abruptly.

“It will never fail to amuse me how you find yourself in situations that do not concern you” her husband's voice rang through her ears as she ran out, only to find herself at the beach again. “You must learn your place wife and it isn't in every nook and corner of the castle” he'd remarked once, after her incessant interjections in an argument with his lord father. “The fool had some sense to what he'd said”, she thought, cursing herself loudly as she caught her breath. Admitting defeat had never felt so shameful, she sulked running her hands through her hair before turning around to find a voice addressing her.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“New waters, princess. I'm not used to change” she replied sheepishly.

“Hmm. You should have told Vanya, she's in charge of the guests. She'd have brewed you a nice tea, it works wonders for light sleepers”

“I presume you speak from experience” she ventured walking towards her.

“There is much to be thought of” she replied back as she welcomed her presence.

“You wish to join the war, contrary to what you spoke of at the council”

“What kind of dragon rider abandons their people in need. What am I, if not a warrior for a just cause”

“A ruler who knows when to step back” she countered.

“Those are flattering words, empty as they might be”

“I disagree, princess. Your children are young and you are needed here. Battles may not always be fought at sea or up in the air, the biggest ones often lie closer to home” she spoke, still unnerved by the night.

“You are wiser than your years Lady Celtigar”

“Many have called me rather impudent”

“And they always shall, anything otherwise would be to admit defeat” she scoffed.

“May I extend my impudence further tonight” she asked looking up at her in question “I think I know why you wish to join. Forgive my boldness but I feel a familiar reluctance in staying behind, with what has happened amidst those seas before”

She smiled ruefully in response. “Have you had the chance to see a dragon yet, Lady Belinda? Caraxes rests a few feet away from where we stand, slumbering in peace while his rider feasts for the night” she remarked causing her to turn abruptly “I fear I will not have peace till I fly to battle with him this once, a wish that was left unfulfilled years ago and a regret I hold with me still”

She looked around in unease before replying “It is not for me to advise you princess as I've often led myself off a cliff with my own words.”

“Do not fret he doesn't harm at will” she laughed sensing her distress. “Merely judges who he considers his prey”

“Like his rider” she wished to scream, smiling back at her instead.

“Sleep well my lady, I might require your impudence on the morrow after all,” she said before walking back to the Castle behind.

“There is no rest for the wicked” her mother used to say, scolding her when she acted out of impulse. “Your flights of fancy shall be the death of me” she'd scream as she chastised her for her conduct. The “morning after” drone on, just as painful to her as the throbbing in her husband's head, as he sat grumbling at breakfast.

“Seems like you had an interesting night” he remarked sullenly.

“What?”

“Princess Rhaenys was all praise for you at dawn.”

“Oh, it was nothing” she said as she tried to mask her raging thoughts, her mind wandering to a different head of silver that had caught her attention.

“Do not be so coy Belinda, it is good to see you putting yourself out there. Let them know what we stand for as a house” he said, sipping his tea.

“Your pride will be your downfall one day, husband, but I'm sure glad for it today” she thought, carefully evading the topic at hand.

The days that followed passed in a blur with her trying to make herself as scarce as possible and she'd found blending in with the decor a fine way of going about it. She'd attend meetings whenever she was called upon dressed in teals and blues, dine with her husband and their contemporaries adorned with silver, gossip idly with the ladies at sessions in sapphire, butting in more often, hoping to be included more but most of all she vowed never to stray out of company whenever she could, for she knew he was around, waiting to strike when she least expected it.

“There you are little trespasser” he'd caught her by the arm swinging her to the side on one such occasion, her burnished gold gown taunting her absurdity.

“Unhand me now or I'll scream”

“I doubt you would little mouse, I think you seem to take an undue amount of pleasure in depravities as such”

“I don't know what you mean”

“Don't play coy now, it doesn't suit you as much as you'd like it to” he retorted sharply

“I didn't mean to barge in on you, it was an accident”

“Hmm as are most instances you find yourself in, yes?”

“I am telling the truth,” she said, squirming in his grasp.

“Now what would your husband think, hmm, were he to find out, compromising yourself not once but twice” he whispered, twisting her towards him, pulling her flush against his chest.

“I have done nothing of that sort, you seem to mistake mischance for willingness”

“I am under no illusion my lady, but anyone in your current predicament would beg to differ” he said smirking as a few curious lords passed by them in the hallways whispering to themselves as they looked away abruptly.

“Walk with me and let me put you out of your misery” he replied, tugging her along, as he took her arm into the crook of his elbow, swiftly guiding them towards the other end of the hall.

“I want nothing more to do with you, my prince. Please leave me alone”

“Now where's the fun in that” he laughed humorlessly “Do not take me for a fool lady Celtigar, I’d prefer it if you'd play along”

She huffed as she followed him out onto familiar territory, the sandy soil welcoming her once again.

“You are married, what would your lady wife think if she found out” she said trying to dissuade him.

“I think she'll be all the more happier for my absence, something you and I might have in common” he retorted, eyes twinkling as he gazed down at her.

“I don't know what you mean” she said which earned her a click of his tongue in response.

“Bartimos is nothing but kind. He's faithful and just, I could ask for nothing more from a husband” she said after a pause.

“Perhaps you'd prefer a dog instead if that is what pleases you in a man” he huffed “Or was that your reason to linger last night?” She blushed furiously in response as he laughed at her silence.

“You presume too much”

“I only say what I think. Life is too short to hide behind false pleasantries.”

“One needs to be amiable enough to get by, not everyone has the veil of protection of a dragon rider”

“It is not Caraxes that speaks to you now, as much as you'd like, I am more myself when I say as I do.”

“And what exactly do you wish to achieve out of this” she asked, stopping as she stood before him.

“To unwind that needle you've stuck up yourself” he said “Your husband's brought you here all dolled up to decorate his empty promises, espousing might and support when all he has to his name is a house of Crabs with too few men. I do not need the likes of foolhardy lords who'll run the moment they come to face real danger.”

“What do you want then, my prince? We've come here with goodwill and whatever we have to offer” she said plainly

“I think you have far more to offer.”

“If you've come to ask me to bed you, I'd prefer it if you said so plainly”

“If I wanted to bed you I wouldn't need to ask and I don't mean taking you as an unwilling partner, as pretty as you might be”, he replied, turning a lock of her hair in his hands “You'd come to me willingly”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse” she replied. “I cannot give you what you want nor do you possess anything I seek”

“How do you know?”

“What”

“How do you know what it is that you wish to seek?” he asked “How does someone so sheltered know what they want if they haven't seen what life has to offer”

“What is it that you think I want then”

“A taste of the unknown,” he replied, looking towards the sea.

She stared after him for a moment choosing to continue beside him, the silence between them feeling akin to punishment as they made their way ahead. He stopped soon to pick up a tiny crab running across the shore.

“That is your husband,” he said, examining the creature.

“Come now, that is cruel”

He laughed before pointing towards it again “Look at its legs and tell me what you see”

“It has threads attached to it”

“They're not threads. They're remnants of flowers that thrive deep below

the seas, of colors so bright they'd put a Tyroshi head to shame” he said turning it around for her to look “Flowers like these cling to the crab, beautifying it, helping it forgae the sea weeding out prey, a perfect companion won't you say” he continued watching her swallow “Yet when this little soldier feels the need to return ashore he discards his companion to the solitude of the sea” he finished before tossing the crab aside.

“I am not a flower” she said lifting her head up in defiance “To be discarded so easily”

A broad grin lit up his face as he nodded at her continuing down his path.

Preparations for the war soon ramped up, prolonging her discomfort. She felt stifled putting up smiles, talking incessantly to fill the silence lest she be drawn back in, while he lingered on. She began seeing him more frequently, at most meals of the day. A few of the men had taken to dining with their ladies, mostly those of importance to the warfront and with Bartimos finally being offered a place at the table it was hard to refuse his advancement. She began sitting with them stiff as a board, his gaze burning into her across the spread before them, ashamed to be the cause of her husband's newfound happiness. Watching him drink and talk with pride oblivious to the danger that lay ahead of them both prompted her to consider the nagging thought in her head, perhaps she needed to be his sea flower at last.

He was relentless in his pursuit all the while, smirking with his head tilted to the side whenever she caught him looking, observing her with a heavy gaze waiting to strike again.

It came to a head finally, one sunny morning. She didn't know what possessed her to go to the council room, perhaps it was to seek out Bartimos, as a warning or with counsel itself, but she had opened those great oak doors only to find him inside. He sat alone at the head, with one foot propped up on the map before him, eyes looking out the window, disinterested and lost.

“Are you here to apologize again?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in question.

“I was looking for my husband. Since he's not here I shall leave you to it”

“Ever the dutiful wife, byka embar rūklon”

“Don't call me that”

“Hmm” he chuckled. “Given that he's occupied at the moment, what can I do for you, my lady?” he said standing up.

“Must we keep coming back to it” she replied back, exasperated.

“It is you who makes things difficult”

“Hardly. I've told you what I do not want, I think that should make things much easier for us both”

“You may speak all you want but it's the things left unsaid that matter the most” he continued, before they were interrupted by a servant. She turned to look at her in shock as she greeted him, striding forwards to fill his cup to the brim, privy to all their secrets. He grinned at her expression as he held up a hand

“Leave it and tidy up those scrolls like I taught you” he remarked dismissing her as she wordlessly turned her back to them.

“Now this must be a familiar sight to you” he chuckled, addressing her.

“Your cupbearer” she asked, switching to High Valyrian delighting in his pleased expression.

“Yes it is quite convenient. She knows when I'm full”

“How ingenious” she remarked dispassionately.

“Come on, it's fun”

“To see her each morn, when you're discussing matters of importance and know how you'll be having her at dusk? Was this the unknown you spoke ok?” she spat

“Stand up, let me show you something” he remarked suddenly as he led her to the window.

“To anyone who walks in now, I'm showing you how the sky melts into the sea, explaining to you the foreign territory we'll soon find ourselves in, ” he said, moving close to her.

“What concerns us, is how I've ordered her to tidy up everything. All the scrolls and there are a hundred of them, before she thinks of lifting her head up again” he whispered as she heaved at his proximity, her back flush against his chest.

“We could do whatever we want and she wouldn't move an inch” he hummed against her ear pulling her close. “No one would know, for the reward that awaits her at dusk”

“Obedience for pleasure” she sighed as he tilted her head up gazing into her eyes.

“Precisely” he grinned, grabbing her neck without warning.

“What will you choose, embar rūklon?” he said brushing his nose violently against hers. She bit his lip in response, delighted with his painfully grunt as she tasted him, metallic and raw, of blood and smoke.

“I think that suffices as an answer ” she responded breathlessly, crashing her lips against his.

As she walked out the door later, she noticed the neatly arranged scrolls in the corner with seven cups lined in order, ready for each member of the council to use. The dragon behind her grinned greedily, having found yet another conquest to his name.

Daemon Targaryen was more beast than man, she'd come to learn over the days that followed. As the time to leave finally drew close and tempers ran hot at council meetings, his thirst for flesh increased, seeking her out in shadowed corridors, grasping and rutting into her savagely. She'd be showered with equal affection later on masking the bruises marking her skin. Jewellery of pearl and rubies adorned her pulse points, bitten and sore from their heady encounters as she strutted around with unfaltering poise delighting in her newfound routine. She had come to enjoy their little game, often finding ways to excuse herself to explore another hideaway the castle had to offer, leaving it separately with the lingering smell of their sweat and arousal. Despite the intensity of their meetings it was the aftermath she had come to cherish the most, when he'd kiss the crown of her head after pulling her hair, or play with her wrists as he drew her close. The little trinkets that she hid among her dresses, made her heart beat faster whenever she sat looking out at sea smiling to herself as her company chatted on.

“I got you something”

“What is this?” she laughed “A bird of paper?”

“There is a technique they use in Yi-Ti, where they make creatures out of paper, style them as they like '' he said “This is a crane shown to me by a merchant in passing, as a token for the hefty purchase I made. They say if you make a thousand of these the Gods grant you anything you desire.”

“I thought you didn't believe in the Gods,” she mocked.

“I do not but there isn't a man more foolish than the one who doesn't appreciate beauty, in all forms” he smirked.

“There is a catch though” he said, pulling it away before she had the chance to grab it.

“There always is, isn't it”

“If and when you make a thousand of these you'll be granted but a single wish. I would choose one carefully embar rūklon”

She closed her eyes as she thought smiling to herself.

“Not now”

“Ah but what if I wish for something this very moment, what's to stop me”

“You play by my rules alone byka gevie, never forget” he said pulling her towards him delighting in her laughter.

As much as he'd claimed ownership of the people in his service Daemon had glossed over a singular fact common to all women alike, they preferred nothing more than a fresh rumor served cold. From the smallfolk to the ladies in their fine towers, each held a kinship to one another when it came to gossip, spreading it far and wide. Rumors of her entanglement with the dragon prince spread like wildfire, with fresh tongues wagging in her direction, holding her accountable with their judgy eyes and insolent mouths. His little cupbearer was the one responsible, she thought as she found herself cornered, how fitting it was to be felled by the keeper of his secrets.

The most disappointing though, was the reaction of the lady she'd lent her sympathy to days ago.

“I'd like to give you a piece of advice Lady Celtigar” she remarked one morning

“You are young and have many years ahead of you, do not waste it in pursuit of fleeting pleasure. I know what it's like to feel constrained and alone. When my husband went off on his travels across the world it was I who held fort here, braving it all, ensuring our legacy wouldn't be tarnished by even a wisp of bitterness. You will soon be put in a similar position and you won't weather it should you choose to continue as you are now” she said plainly. “A woman's reputation makes or breaks her family and her house. It is the most important tool you have in your arsenal and you must learn to weild it well.”

“I can take care of myself Princess. My impudence shall weather me through whatever storm awaits me yet, besides you have a dragon to protect you, I doubt it was your diplomacy that carried your legacy forwards”

“And now you've found yours” she remarked with distaste. “Heed my warning my lady, I have known my cousin long enough to realize he always does as he wants. He will not change no matter how much you wish for it to be so” she said as she left her in thought.

The storm at her horizon approached faster than she could have anticipated striking the pearls around her neck first, with an innocuous question posed at dinner.

“That is such a beautiful necklace my lady wherever did you get it”

“Oh it is one of the many treasures of our house” she countered “A little trinket, one of many the Celtigars boast. We have chests of ancestral rubies, Myrish carpets, Volantene glass, jeweled cups and more that await you at Claw Isle should you choose to visit” she remarked satisfied with turning the conversation at hand. If only it had been so easy.

“Where did you get that Belinda?” Bartimos asked cornering her when they were alone

“The necklace? It is one of the many you've given me”

“Do you take me for a fool” he scoffed

“I don't know what you mean, if not then it must belong to one of the chests back home”

“I know every gift that I've ever given you Belinda, your honeyed words fool no one” he said looking at her with contempt.

“Do you think I don't know what's been happening behind my back? Do you think I'm such a fool to not recognise how you've been whoring yourself while I have been away and for what” he asked, ripping them from her neck “Pretty trinkets that I'd buy you had you bothered to ask? Are you so starved for attention to be acting as such. Do you know what they call you? '' he screamed “They call you the Harlot of Driftmark! The Whore of High Tide who's been strutting around the Castle with her cheap keepsakes. Why must you act as such? Have I not given you enough?”

“You're one to talk, have you even bothered looking at me this once. Ever since we've stepped foot on this dreaded island you've done nothing but jest and play at your war never bothering to inquire how I've felt. Ever since I've married you, you've never made the effort. Do you think I want your wealth and all the treasures that you hoard with your claws, boasting at every opportune moment? It makes you look like the fool that you are Bartimos” she screamed “If you'd just asked me once, if you'd just listened to what I had to say, to what I've felt this past year, things would have been-”

“If I had listened to you then you wouldn't have fucked him, is that it then?”

“Why don't you love me?” she cried “Why is it always honor and virtue and claiming and parading myself as yours when I am anything but. I've never been yours because you haven't let me. Why don't you want me as I am”

“Neither does he. He doesn't see you as anything more than a vessel for his pleasure, ripe for taking and you are a fool for thinking otherwise, just as I am for thinking you'd ever want me” he said looking at her in pain.

“I shall leave on the morrow. You shall be escorted back shortly with Lady Crabb. Say your goodbyes as I have none for you”

The noose felt tight around her neck as she wiped the wetness staining her cheeks, the tears she'd wished for had come at last.

It was dawn when she ventured out again, awoken by the shrill roar of Caraxes taking flight. She rushed to his chambers barefoot with a robe covering her, only to find them empty. A wail left her throat as she collapsed near his bed clutching the sheets, sitting still on the floor gazing at his walls, lost and alone till the sun rose and her tears dried up. The time to lament was over. The mirror at the entrance caught her attention, alerting her to her haggard appearance. She looked at the bags under her eyes, puffy and glistening as she walked towards her reflection, noticing a cushion nestled beneath. On it lay a single paper crane greeting her solemnly.

“It is time for you to do your duty, embar rūklon just as it is time for mine. To the unknown you've been searching for”, she read through hazy eyes running her fingers over the scrawled words on its wings.

The journey back to Claw Isle proved to be an arduous one. She felt their eyes on her as she boarded the ship, when she stood on deck and when she took her meals in silence on board, their judgment never leaving her. She wished for nothing more than to be sequestered in her home once again, laughing to herself at the irony of it all. She had often heard the tale of the weary seafarer glad to return home after his travels, delighting in its familiarity and Claw Isle had never felt more welcoming than it did now. As she stepped onto the beach leading up to the Island, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She spent the next few days in silent contemplation, barring visitors and well wishers alike. She went on long walks, worked on her embroidery, read whatever she could find in the castle library and kept herself as occupied as she could, though the thing about an idle mind was that it soon merited thought. The news of the warfront floating around crept up to her soon. The advancement of the Velaryon forces on Bloodstone with Prince Daemon and little Lord Laenor's assistance spread rapidly delighting noble and commoner alike, for a war involving dragons had been fought after so long and the gossip accompanying it proved even meatier. She heard it in passing as her maids whispered to themselves, mentions of herself with Prince Daemon graced the hallways as well as chuckles at Bartimos and his misfortune of being stuck with her. It was the twentieth day of the fifth moon when she decided to confront it all, bringing out and dismantling the object of her ire. The crane was easy to take apart, soggy from its travels at sea and as the wet parchment of paper stared at her she remembered why it was given to her in the first place. Over the next few moons she learnt how to make one, it was easy enough with no shortage of paper for anything to be considered amiss. Every night before she went to bed she crafted a little bird with her hands, closing her eyes and stuffing it away come morning. The war carried on as did her own effort at home.

Almost three years later when she had diligently made her last one she sat staring at it in silence, crying to herself as she closed her eyes, thinking her effort had perhaps all been in vain.

News of the war reached her a fortnight later, Prince Daemon had killed Craghas Drahar, slicing him from head to torso, styling his weapon into a crown, calling himself the “King of the narrow sea”. It had been a happy occasion for all of Crackclaw Point uplifting their spirits enough for her to invite the neighboring ladies to tea. They had all won and a celebration was to be hosted in their honor. As the castle was tidied up and the ornaments brought out, she noticed a giant red crab placed near the entrance welcoming the guests she was to host, on its back writhing and beautiful were a myriad of familiar coloured threads.

“What is that” she asked the Castellan as he caught her looking.

“Those are sea flowers my lady, nestled upon the great crab’s back. It is a beautiful relationship they share in harmony, uplifting one another. The flower beautifies the crab as well as helping it forage while being offered protection inturn. No other creature of the sea dare touch it's beauty as long as the crab stands vigil”

A looming sense of dread washed over her as she excused herself from the hall, rushing to find the old crane. As she sifted through her drawers desperate to find it among the thousand others she'd made she felt herself grow weary and tired, frustrated as she collapsed to the floor. Each crane she'd found was henceforth burned in the hearth before their bed, meticulously chucked into the fire as she watched them be swallowed by the flames. Her wish had finally been fulfilled.

Bartimos returned nearly four moons later to a full house and a happier wife. His apprehension at seeing her was soon eclipsed by her contagious demeanor. She apologized to him, with Rhaenys' advice fresh in her mind, wishing to make amends to which he acquiesced soon after a moon of coaxing. The rumors still reached them from time to time yet she had him, to weather them together. Prince Daemon's lady wife soon passed away. A hunting accident they'd called it followed by the scandal of the Jade tiara from Yi-Ti, his hefty purchase she'd assumed finally coming to fruition. The deflowering of his niece in the capital brothel followed soon, as her belly swelled and by the time he'd returned to wreak havoc on the royal wedding she had laughed at it all mirthlessly.

When he took a new bride five moons later in the form of Lady Laena Velaryon she took it well with a stiff lip, mind drawn to the Red Queen herself and as her confinement approached a few moons later and she lay in bed she found the old crane at last. Scrawled illegibly on one of its wings was part of the phrase her hazy eyes had missed moons ago

“To the unknown you've been searching for and for the one you've helped me find.”

She crumpled the weary crane in her lap clawing at it as her husband droned on recounting the accounts of the castle for the moon. The Valyrians, she thought, had always managed to entrench everyone in their affairs.

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