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thesharktanksdriver · 10 months

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Determination (Platonic)

As you can tell this is kinda based off of Undertale in the whole. Not a lot but some elements from it that I changed

This isn’t really linear and I’m just jumping from character to characters

Cause screw the timeline

Warning of a lot of child death and spoilers

part 2 part 3 shanks

Determination : a Paramecia type devil fruit shaped into a four pointed star. This mysterious devil fruit allows its user to essentially become immortal. When the user dies they “respawn” at a different location randomly. Oddly, when dying via water the effects of the fruit still occur though it takes longer for the user to “respawn” and the user doesn’t age after eating the fruit.

Determination was something that was sewn into the fabric of the human soul

From the dawn of time humanity fought to survive against nature and itself

This blazing emotion called determination propelled them forwards against all odds

A blazing spark that had pushed them again and again

Through every conflict and tragedy

If is perhaps one of the most important things of the human spirit along with the capacity for compassion

It’s no surprise that determination was a strong thing but even stronger would be the devil fruit you one day ate that you decided to name after that one blazing emotion

It took a long while for you to figure out the ability of the fruit since nothing happened at first all those years ago

You didn’t transform into an animal of any sorts

Nor did you change your body or make something like flames appear

It left you confused…well until you died by accident

In your defence you were a young kid (you still are to be honest) without any spacial awareness

So you didn’t notice the tiger that snuck up on you

There was a small moment of pain and then black

A pure black much like the ocean at night

There’s was confusion and then something appeared in front of you

A glimmering star that glowed softly and appeared out from your chest

Pulsating gently as you stared at it

You touched it and then woke up

Sand beneath between your fingers as you got up confused

It’s there that you saw the ocean stretching out beyond your view and into the horizon

Cerulean blue sparkling with the sunlight

Bits of golden light shimmering around you now fading as you sat up confused

It took a while after that as well to figure out the specifics but you figured out that you died

And that seemingly despite that you were brought back somewhere new, an island across the ocean from what you once knew was home

It’s a lot to take in but with time it settles in on you as you navigate what to do next

You’d always had wanted to explore and sail the seas

What always held you back was the danger of it all

Your parents once warned you of it before their deaths

How you shouldn’t do something so risky that could end up taking your life

But now there was no worry of that

Of leaving them

It was just you on your own in this big world

Now leaving you with that once far off Dream being your only reality

So after that you geared up and set sail

Your ship…er if you could even call it one was Basically a couple of barrels combined together into a small vessel

At least 8 barrels served as the base whilst two were combined together into a hut with a small cut out to make your bed area

There was no wheel or proper sail

You used a umbrella attached to a big stick and turned it manually to control the direction

But you rarely did that

You kinda just let the boat take you to wherever

It was fun that way

Partially because all the friends you’d met were made through this method of letting the waves take you wherever it deemed you go next

How your ship has survived for decades you don’t really know nor care about

All that mattered was that it floated and was a serviceable vessel (many would disagree with that)

Through the years you stayed the same as the world changed

You never aged from when eating the devil fruit and though you become more mature you were still a kid at heart

One filled with determination

Gol.D Roger

Ironically for someone seen as the “pirate king” you’d think that he’d be more mean

But surprise surprise when you pull up on your boat near his own the pirate king himself invites you aboard

Smiling brightly as he offers you a hand and his men tie your boat to his own so it doesn’t float away

Your friendship with Roger was something that you’d consider priceless

He is considerably kind and gentle with you

Almost treating you as if you were his own child

His crew is equally welcoming to you as they all share the thought of how in the world had you survived this long (key point technically you hadn’t lol)

That day in which you had first met him they throw a small party where your their guest

Drinks are shared all round, you even get to sneak in a sip as Roger laughs whole heartedly at a joke

For the first time in a long while you eat and sleep in a real bed on his ship

And the next day he’s sitting you down to have a serious talk with you

Roger may be childish and oblivious but he can tell there’s more to this than meets the eye

He isn’t pushy or threatening like you had expected

Just asking what your situation was

So you tell him

Perhaps it was because you were still naive or because you knew your secret would be safe with him

But something in you told you to trust him and your gut was never wrong

You expect the reaction to be something like asking you how you got it

maybe even jealousy

But what you get in return is sympathy

He thinks of how lonely you must be

Something more akin to a curse despite its benefits

You’d never really saw it that way but his gentle gaze full of forlorn sadness makes you open your eyes a bit

In many ways, yes, never dying was a curse of loneliness

You’d outlive everyone

But in your eyes that time spent and having the opportunity in meeting them i the first place made up for that

Forever sharing their stories and carrying their memory kept you from being alone

He smiles

While you never officially joined his crew you ended up traveling with them for months on end

Becoming apart of their family as the crew took turns letting you sit on their shoulders

Your favourite thing to do though was stealing Rogers coat and hat

Parading around like him as everyone else held in chuckles as you fake ordered them around

It became something of a tradition as Roger would randomly announce to the crew their real captain was here as you walked out

He became a lot like an older brother with fatherly qualities

Fun and caring

Despite knowing you couldn’t really die he always remains careful around you

Especially when their fighting marines

He doesn’t want you targeted for affiliation so he does his damn best in hiding you away during fights

Hell, he even once punched someone across a bar for trying to pick on you

Like when you trusted him with knowledge of your immortality he trusts you with knowledge of Rouge and his unborn son shortly before his death

Perhaps in some ways he knew his death was soon but he entrusts you with something only his most trustworthy allies are allowed to know

You aren’t there when he died but you know for sure he did so with a smile

Clutching one of his coats to your chest you cry with a soft smile as his son is born

Rouge let’s you hold the young baby she named Ace

A fitting name for someone who you knew was bound to be an Ace in the deck of cards that was the world

Monkey D. Garp

You meet Garp cause of Roger

Shocking right (note the sarcasm)

Particularly because Roger entrusted you to show Garp where Rouge was hiding out

It is…tense at first to say the least especially since you knew Roger was likely being walked to his execution

The one person you grew to trust more than yourself

But as usual, with time you both began to talk

He asks if your apart of Rogers crew and you answer truthfully

Your not but they had accepted you as their own

Taken in a small child afloat on the ocean without any hesitation

They all respected that your a free spirit that couldn’t be tethered to one place forever and accepted that

Garp had already respected Roger but it grew as you talked of the pirate king

This the talk time goes away though when Rouge begins to give birth

Your left panicked and doing your best to comfort her as best you could

Your still a kid, there isn’t much you can do but your trying for her sake

For the sake of her unborn child

For Roger

Despite how tears stung your eyes from how hard she held your small hand

You held them back and focused on her

And it’s through that Garp sees how you are indeed not a pirate

Your just a child, one who was alone in this world clinging to a piece of driftwood

Floating from place to place and helping others despite the fact you needed it as well

When Ace is born and Rouge passes away your left to cry as you comfort the young baby boy

The marine carefully takes Ace from your arms and lets you mourn

Not only for a woman who showed you nothing but kindness but also for Roger

And for Ace having to grow up without either parents, for being doomed to a fate of death if anyone else found out of his linage

You end up going with him since you can’t yet peel yourself away from Ace

It feels too soon and you need more time for a proper goodbye

He’s fine with this though

Dare you even say he encouraged you to come with him

Despite your…lacklustre experience with marine’s you find Garp to be nice company

It’s Odd but he acts almost fatherly?

There’s a hidden longing in his eyes of wanting familiar connection

Something that you can relate to after the loss of your mom and dad

A craving for a connection you once thought lost

Eventually though you know it’s your time to leave

With a last goodbye to Ace in the form of a kiss to the forehead and a small handmade charm you set off

Garp is already waiting there though with your boat and a box of supplies

And Garp tells you that you’d make a good marine

You laugh

Never in a million years

And despite knowing your answer he isn’t angry, he smiles and waves as you begin to sail away on your dinky “boat”

He probably should’ve at least bought you a real boat

Maybe next time he muses

Next time

The cycle begins again

Doflamingo and Rosinante Donquixote

After a long while of traveling you ended up at Dressrosa for a pit stop

But decided to stay a bit longer than you anticipated when you met two boys your age

Both were battered and bruised Beyond recognition

Blond hair muddied with clumps of blood and mud

The two brothers were apprehensive at first but eased up when you offered them the pie you bought yourself

Apparently the entire island HATED them with a passion

Something because of them being celestial dragons which you didn’t care about nor understand why that would lead to how others treated them

It’s messed up to you that their practically beaten for something they can’t control

So you stand up for them

Taking the hits for the two brothers as people focus their anger on you apparently betraying them or something

You don’t care

Not like you can die anyways but the two blonds don’t exactly like seeing their only friend beat up because of them

But that doesn’t stop you since you were their friend

And friends help friends

Nor would you stand for such an injustice in your eyes

Rosinante enjoys playing games with you

Out of the two he is more immature in the sense he’s more like a regular kid

He is compassionate and kind despite the circumstances

One who would tend to your wounds as his brother stewed in frightening anger

It scared him…how his brother had some sort of darkness in him that grew

Your the only person he confides this to

And you can’t help but also be worried for his bother but also himself

How this could affect him when considering that he brother was one of the only people dear to him

But that was a worry for later

In the moment you focus on keeping him happy and distracted from the cruelties directed towards him

You’d buy sweet treats, toys and a scavenge bits of pretty shells as gifts

Letting the two keep the small signs of your friendship as a way to at least brighten their days

At some point you had even picked up on his like for heart themed stuff and incorporated that into the stuff you wave gave him

Safe to say he might’ve cried some tears of happiness

Sometimes you worry for him out of the two

Doffy knows that fighting is sometimes the answer but Rosinante doesn’t

Along with the fact he trips over thin air

You don’t know how many times you’d bandaged him up

But everyone has their quirks you suppose

And you wouldn’t change them for the world

Doflamingo on the other hand is very much the opposite of his brother

He doesn’t exactly play, he more so soaks up the knowledge you spill of your travels

Stuff of how the world worked

The politics of some of the islands you’d visited

He’s innately interested to a degree you hadn’t exactly expected

But in some sense you appreciated it

Everyone just lumping it under the ramblings of a child

But Doffy doesn’t

Speaking of which your the only one permitted to call him that lest they get a swift kick to the ass

It’s an honour you hold in high regard

Especially since he even gives you a nickname of your own

“Knight”

It’s cause apparently your like their own personal knight, something fitting cause he one day swore to rise up back to their proper birth right

Before their parents abandoned it

He’s strong and knows it but still insists that your their protector of sorts

You don’t really argue with him about it anymore

In fact you kinda lean into the name

Making a makeshift sword out of a stick and waving it around in mock sword fights

It brings back fond memories of your old friends that have probably long forgotten you

Except for the fact you had to save Rosinante from almost poking his eye out

Nothing however as usual can last forever

You don’t know what had led up to this point but eventually everyone had enough of them

And also you protecting them

Some men dragged you into a town square of sorts one night

Their yelling obscenities at you that you don’t flinch at

Even as they tie you in ropes that bite at your skin and walk you towards a chopping block

The crowd holds you down on the block as flames illuminate your face

You can only watch in pity as the Donquixote’s are forced down to watch as the blade rises above your head

Your only shred tears for your two friends having to watch your death

A smile finds its way on your face

Tears lining your eyes as they cascade down your cheeks, shining due to the warm light of torches

There was cheering from the crowd

Screaming from Doffy

Crying from Rosantine

And the air splitting as the blade came down

And then darkness before a familiar gold shining light appears before you once more

The cycle begins again

What you don’t know is that both boys notice your kicked away body dissipate into golden stardust that travels up into the sky before their both blindfolded and strung up

Whitebeard pirates

During your time with Roger he had several encounters with Whitebeard but your first real encounter happens when you end up at an island in their territory

You once again died and ended up there and almost immediately ran into the well known member of the group Marco

Now in his perspective you were a random child who stumbled out an alleyway with scrapes and bruises

How was he not supposed to be worried?

His mind goes immediately to possible conclusions even as you argue with him that your fine

To please not take you to a medic

In reality you really wanted to avoid Whitebeard in case of unearthing memories of Roger

But you don’t have much of a choice when this blue bird boy is dragging your ass back to the ship to be properly healed

You don’t go down without a fight though…doesn’t do much but it sure does look like a rabid animal attacked him so it’s something

But your brought to the ship, the good old Moby dick which looks even bigger up close and personal

And there sitting down with tubes attached to him is Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate

Otherwise known as Roger’s kinda rival/friend?…it was complicated, too complicated for you to understand at least

Everyone aboard welcomes you with a smile even as you keep punching the (in your words) “oversized chicken with a pineapple for a head”‘S back in vain

Safe to assume the crew grows to like you as your kinda just adopted on board

Their docked at the island for awhile so they haven’t just taken off with you being dragged along

Though from what you heard of their track record you wouldn’t have been surprised

Marco is the one who interacts with you the most at first mostly cause his devil fruit helped with injures

Despite your petty aggression you do have to admit he is nice company

He’s rather levelheaded and exceedingly caring

It’s why he (literally) dragged you here in the first place

Cause he couldn’t just leaven an injured kid on their own

You get the sense that due to his fruit he’s older than he seems, it makes sense with the whole Phoenix thing

So you often pose questions of immortality to him to see if he had differing views to you

Surprisingly he didn’t

He also carried the mindset of it being worth it due to all the experiences you couldn’t have in a lifetime

It’s nice in a weird way

Just knowing you weren’t alone in having to watch the world change as you stay the same

You don’t say this aloud of course but he seems happy in discussing the “possibility’s” with you

He takes to looking after you even after your better and interacting with others on the ship

A sense of responsibility for the fact he brought you aboard in the first place

Along with a possible hint of Kinship and a mother hen instinct (Thatch got smacked on the head for that)

Occasionally he likes to change fully or half shift into his Phoenix form to fly around

It’s a pretty sight

Even more so when he offers to taking you flying as well

Feeling the wind swish past as you soar through the air isn’t something you’d ever experienced before

It is ingrained in your mind that sense of adrenaline and rush of a mixture of fear and excitement

Its single-handedly an experience you’d likely never forget

And everyone seems to know it as he places you gently back down on the deck, shaky legs paired with a bright smile and wide eyes

Sometimes you wonder if he has bird instincts but he doesn’t answer the question (the crew says yes he does)

Thatch is extremely friendly and because of that (and the food) you end up hanging with him in the kitchen quite a bit

Food had always kinda been an afterthought to you and you’d forgotten what having good food was actually like

But with Thatch he changes that quickly

The food he makes brings back nostalgia of old

The home cooked meals in your mouth after a long day, sitting yourself down at the table as she placed a hot plate in front of you

The scent and steam still rising off of it

He has her smile, bright and gentle

The first time you ate one of his meals and he gave you that look you cried

Which caused an angry Marco to try and yell at him for doing something before you stopped him

While you stay on the ship you unofficially become his little helper

Bringing others their meals and prepping up the buffet when they had a party (which was seemingly every other day of the week)

you tease him about his hair and it then becomes a running joke between you two

The others catch on and they all laugh when you call his pompadour something to piss him off

And then he proceeds to whine about it

He won’t admit it but he sneaks food to Stefan

He of course denies this but you catch him late one night and now use that as blackmail to let you lick the spoon used for the batter for pancakes

Sometimes he styles your hair

The crew laughed their asses off when he made it look like a pompadour

While on your stay at the ship he makes sure to memorize your favourite foods

Especially when he catches glimpses of you being especially sad

Speaking of sad

You almost cry when seeing the familiar freckled face of Ace again

Body freezing over and going stiff as the cowboy hat wearing son of tiger gives you a jolly smile

In a lot of ways he’s not like Roger

But in other ways their more alike than you’d ever expected

It’s hard being around him

Especially since all you want to do is cry and hug him

To explain that Rouge and Roger loved him more than you could put into words

That you missed him but your glad to see he found a place where he’s accepted

But you can’t

You know you can’t when your permanently stuck as a child

Never aging even as the world kept changing

Plus you don’t know how he’d react to it. You’d probably sound crazy

So you keep all of it to yourself

But to everyone else it’s obvious that something is going on with you

Sure, they hadn’t known you very long but their all good at reading people

Around Ace everyone notices that there’s a obvious shift in your behaviour

You become reclusive, a look of distant sadness lingering as you avoid him

It doesn’t help that he wants to get to the bottom as to why your seemingly afraid of him

You occasionally hide in random closets when you hear him nearby

Thatch and Marco can’t get a word out of you as to why you act this way around him

But eventually you begin to let up a bit

Being able to have a proper conversation with the freckled male as he has to hold himself back out of excitement

It’s still hard but you push through it

Especially when seeing him smile as wide as he did when you looked after him

He still has the charm you gave him

It’s a little worse for wear but it’s there

As is your matching one that you hide from the crew in your pocket

He likes to show off his powers to you

Watching as your eyes stare at the swirling flames that dance on his arms

What he likes more though is when you question him about his tattoo and brothers

Apparently he has two sworn brothers

One who had sadly passed named Sabo and the other who was still alive named Luffy

His voice is tinged with a certain fondness as he talks about them that you can relate to

In a moment of weakness you ask him about the charm that hangs off his white and red stripped bracket and he smiles

He talks about how someone looked after him when he was younger according to his gramps

They had to leave, but was still out there

They had a matching one to his own

And one day he hoped to find them

You have to turn away and hide your eyes for a moment

With a smile you wish him luck and he replies back that he doesn’t need it

He’d find them

He was right and didn’t even know it

From then on he approaches you regularly while your on the Moby dick

Taking you on mini adventures and letting you sit on his shoulders with your hat covering your head

The crew laughs with glee

He jokingly tells you that your already apart of their crew but you know there’s truth to the words

He’s always a bit crestfallen at your answer, but even with that he retains hope you’d join

First time he passed out you nearly died again and began crying until Marco comforted you

Not your proudest moment but he seemed particularly touched that you were so emotional about his well-being

Kinda like with Ace your initially on edge around Whitebeard

Sure, he’s welcoming you with a smile and is generally warm but seeing him brings up Roger again

You remember the times you’d sometimes peak out to watch them battle with Shanks and Buggy

Honestly your very relived he didn’t recognize you

Nor the coat that you drape over your shoulders

Even moreso cause you can tell he knows something is up with you

Like Ace it takes a lot of time for you to begin to get close to him

But like Ace once again this man is stubborn shit who is patient enough to be able to crash down your barriers but by bit with time

It starts off as him inquiring of your home, your family and if their waiting for you

You respond that your birth family is long gone but you prefer to travel anyways. Finding new friends along the way

The answer worries him but he makes no mention of it

The questions then progress to you asking about some of his experiences

What it was like being rival to the greatest pirate in the world

He laughs at that, mumbling about how Roger was a stubborn pain in the ass

But one whom he considered a friend

Someone he missed

You ask him how he deals with grief, with losing someone close to you but being reminded of them

He says that it’s hard but with that comes a sort of melancholy happiness

That there are still traces of them in the world, even if it’s through simple actions

Like a gentle reminder of their importance and affect on his life

You’d never thought of it that way..but you think it’s nice

It helps you ease into spending time with Ace and him some more

Both of them are happy about it

At some point he begins asking if you’d like a place here

A home on their ship and crew

You smile and tell him that the sea itself is your home, but you know that this place and it’s people are family

But you also have family elsewhere as well

He accepts that but he does seem saddened and worried

In general a lot of what you do makes him worried

Specifically the disregard of your life and safety

To be fair to him though he doesn’t know your basically immortal

Well until…the attack

Everything was fine, a party was happening and Thatch had brought back a devil fruit

Drinks were shared all around as was the food

Thatch was pretty drunk and you decided to bring the fruit he found back to the pantry to be locked up for now

You didn’t see the person follow you

It’s a bit of a blur but all you removed was burning pain as you heard a chilling laugh

And then there was the screams of voices familiar

Through blurred vision you stare up at a crying Ace as he yells for Marco

He goes to run and get him but you grab him with bloodied hands

Shakily you reach into your pocket pulling out the charm as his eyes widen

You smile through the pain as tears swell in your eyes

“You found me”

Whitebeard holds you gently as you hear Ace sob

You fade away cradled in the large warm hands of Whitebeard

The charm matching Ace’s in your hand

They all watch as you crumble away into golden star dust that scatters off into the wind

It is then that the captain of the ship is reminded of what Roger once said

“There’s one star out there that never dies, their just in a different place in the sky. You just have to find it again”

“Hmf….sly bastard. Their out there, we’ll find them again”

The cycle begins once again

Buggy

You come by him as a complete accident

Just finding yourself adrift at sea once more when a boat quickly pulls up

And before you know it your met face to face with your old friend

Almost immediately your dragged aboard by him as his crew watches on confused as to why he’s acting all nice?

He looks he’s about to cry

Hint: he is

Immediately your whisked to his private quarters and you quickly get a large hug from the blue haired man

And he is absolutely SOBBING

The poor bud can barely make cohesive sentences as you pat his back

After a few minutes he places you down

And then he realized you hadn’t aged a day from when he was a kid

So it’s safe to say you have to explain yourself to him

He’s amazed while simultaneously horrified

Especially since you brush off your own deaths as an afterthought

But then that goes away when he asks if Shanks knows

And you reply that he doesn’t

He begins to laugh his ass off, talking about bragging rights which leaves you confused

Sure, you knew him and the red haired boy had kinda a rivalry but you weren’t sure why he wanted bragging rights

So he then explained what happened after Roger died and you disappeared

Apparently after Roger’s death the two began to drift apart

Petty Arguments growing bigger and bigger before they whet their separate ways

You can’t say your surprised but it’s sure sad in your eyes

That his death caused them to go their separate ways

The dynamic duo you’d come to befriend and see as bigger brothers now separated

But even with that your happy to see that Buggy is still his normal self

Sure, he’s brash and at times arrogant. But you wouldn’t change him

He was Buggy, unabashedly himself

You stay on his ship for awhile and in that time get to know his crew

Their all still kinda confused how their captain knows you but brush it off

Just accepting it as it is

You end up napping with Richie a lot despite that fact many of your deaths was via animal mauling

The lion enjoys your company, especially as you brush his lavender mane and braid it

After seeing that the captain may or may not have asked you to braid his hair as well

You oblige

During your stay Buggy lingers by you a lot

Perhaps a bit scared to let you go

The crew won’t mention it aloud but somehow your presence makes him more agreeable

Also less…aggressive

They reallly hope they’ll be seeing you around more often

Some might have partially cried when you left due to that

The other half is cause they got attached

#platonic #one piece x reader #buggy x reader #whitebeard x reader #Whitebeard pirates x reader #gol d Roger x reader #Garp x reader #rosinante x reader #doflamingo x reader #marco x reader #ace d portgas x reader #thatch x reader

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dutiful-wildcraft · 3 months

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Pack 141 - Werewolf!Price Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sfw, werewolf!price, mentions of gore and body horror, loose a/b/o dynamics, possessiveness, scent marking, fluff, werewolf lore sprinkled with pack 141 interactions

-A born lycan. The shift was as natural as breathing. And he quickly showed the temperment of an alpha.

-Shifts to the outsider can appear gruesome. As the wolf quite literally emerges from within, human flesh falling away like a gristly chrysalis to reveal the beast beneath. Traditionally, this shed flesh would be devoured, though it isn't commonly practiced today. The flesh disintegrates quite quickly once shed.

-This being said Price can shift in degrees, often enhancing his own claws or teeth for defensive purposes rather than shift completely.

-No, the clothes do not magically pop back on once he's done. Shifting completely is inconvenient and typically a last resort. It's difficult to strip in the middle of a fire fight, let alone find his tac bag stark naked after it's all said and done.

-For born wolves, this shift is generally smooth and quick. For those bitten, it is this first shift that often leads to their death. Around 75% of those bitten do not have the bodily fortitude to withstand the change.

-as a born wolf, Price's enhanced senses are also perfectly integrated, and require no sensory aids for him to navigate his daily life unlike the majority of bitten wolves.

-born wolves have a tendency to remain in seclusion, within the safety and comfort of their pack. When a new alpha is born they typically either stay to take over leadership, or stake out a new territory to build their own pack.

-John was quickly ostracized when he showed little interest in either of those things. He seemed to be far more preoccupied with exploring both the world and his own strength. The military amongst the humans would do quite nicely.

-During his tours there would be fleeting encounters with other monsters, typically enemies. But a few comrades as well. Such as Nikolai, a bear shifter. The pair of lycans got along beautifully.

-Now, despite his former pack's opinions of him, John had never explicitly said he didn't want a pack, just not their version of a pack. No. John had a different idea in mind.

-Simon was the first. A strong and brutal human, who had shown an endearing gentleness in certain circumstances. Price had decided immediately that Simon would belong to him. He just needed some final paper work to build his pack task force. He had even settled on changing Simon himself, despite the risks. A bloody vampire had beaten him to it. Price was hardly angry that Simon's humanity was taken from him, just that Simon had to suffer in such a way to get there. At least Price had the pleasure of siring the newborn himself.

-Next had been Soap. A wiley thing with a blatant disregard for orders and big blue eyes that were far too pretty to be all human. Price couldn't decide if he should scruff or praise him for his cheek. But Soap had an excellent knack for mixing things that should absolutely not work, into something that would cave a warehouse in seconds. Along with a distinct aversion to touching certain metals with his bare hands. His peculiarities had earned him a nickname, and also given him away as a Fae. Price would have him too.

-Garrick followed not long after. Sharp and driven Gaz. Incredibly clever with a proud determination that blazed behind those warm brown eyes. Gaz's skills made his inner wolf purr in delight. Another lovely thing for him to keep. Price was taken with him immediately, and had never felt more at ease than with the sergeant he had stolen in Piccadilly.

-While he could tell from Kyle's scent that he was something Other. Price would only receive cryptic answers or riddles that only made the younger sergeant chuckle as Price failed to guess correctly. (Price would totally not make up excessively silly answers to see the sergeants pretty smile, oh no).

-It wouldn't be until they were stranded in an excessively hot desert that Gaz would reveal himself. Price had emerged from their tent to see Garrick, posted up like it was summer vacation, with a brilliant golden wing curled over his head to shade him from the sun. A long tufted tail flickering back and forth out of a small cut in his fatigues. Gaz had looked up from his book, golden slitted eyes peering over his aviators. Flashed him a toothy grin. “Wanna make another guess Cap?”

-Price has a vicious possessive streak, and he plays it incredibly carefully in the beginning of the task force. He watches his vocabulary when talking about the “team.” His pack. Perfect, strong and beautiful. All of them. Chosen carefully. He was careful not to spook them at first, worried his possessive language would put them off. But they are, for all intents and purposes, his.

-His possessiveness had manifested subtly at first. Scent marking them. Brushing shoulders or gentle touches as he passed them. He would even resort to smoking beside them if touching seemed out of the question. At least his smoke would soak into their clothes and hair.

-As they fell together it became less subtle. Price couldn't resist sinking his teeth into their flesh as they writhed beneath him. Suck bruises along whatever flesh he could get his mouth on. It was a pro and a con that his boys all healed so well. While his marks did not remain for long, it meant he could only mark them up sooner.

-He loves that their scents all intermingle, really. But he can be stubbornly adamant that his scent is the most notable. Often catching Soap or Gaz to tug into his office, kissing the breath out of them, only to curtly send them back out, freshly scented and a bit dazed. It's a fair compromise considering Simon often hogs the sergeants to himself.

-Simon often seeks him out of his own volition. Coming to his office to sit quietly, work on his own reports and bask in Price's scent of spilled ink and warm honey. Or sneaking to his room in the night. Slipping off the mask to bury his nose against his throat. No biting. Just breathing. His scent a balm to the younger vampires frayed nerves.

-Price takes an immense amount of pride in caring for his pack, and takes his job seriously in protecting and providing. Gets immensely distraught when one of his mates is hurting. Knowing no limits in showering them in comfort items and love.

#captain john price #werewolf!price #john price #monster au #pack 141 #poly 141 #poly task force 141 #john price x kyle gaz garrick #john price x john soap mactavish #john price x simon ghost riley #pricegaz #pricesoap #ghostprice #call of duty #captain price

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dustymeadows-if · 3 months

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Dust particles flow in the air, shimmering with golden light of the sun. They rise to the sky, equally golden and hazy. Your mind is empty. There is no single memory in your head. Only one thought is ringing in your brain.

You must walk forward. Walk until your feet begin to bleed. Walk until your shoes fall apart.

And for some reason you can't oppose this thought.

This is your road to Damascus.

Dusty Meadows is a short interactive story set in post-WW1 world. It's a small psychological adventure that will take you through the scarred European fields. Wander the abandoned trenches, scorched forests, poisonous valleys and silent, deadly no man's land.

You don't remember anything. The feelings, however, still linger. Feelings like pain, grief and bitter longing. Your body is mutilated, but you feel no physical pain. It's your soul that aches. It's as if an important piece of it was heartlessly ripped off. This pain urges you to go forward. The answers might lie just behind the next hill or river. Your life depends on returning. Returning your soul. Returning your memories. Returning your life. Returning home.

That is, if there's anything left for you to return to at all.

Customizable MC: choose your gender, appearance, personality and name (if you can remember it, of course).

Meet the cast of various charachters: you're not the only one wandering and seeking these desolate lands. Talk to other wayfaring souls, listen to their stories. Maybe even share the same road and experience strangely deep bond with some of them...

Return your memories: remove the shroud from your past. Remember how you got here. Remember what hides behind the scars on your body. But be wary: some memories are forgotten for a reason.

Explore different locations: travel through the remains of war, learn what happened there and remember what binds you to these places.

Maintain your sanity: nobody said that battlefields are safe even after the war. Your mind is as scarred as your body, and sometimes memories crash like tidal waves. Whether you'll hold the line or succumb to the dark depths - is up to you and you only.

Tired Infantryman - Basile (M)

This man could be a definition of word "apathy". Everything about him is grey: both literally and figuratively. Dressed in grey-bluish trenchcoat, covered in grey dust, he looks at you with dull grey eyes. Even in his dark brown hair you can see grey strands, although he's still pretty young. He doesn't seem to be interested in anything around him, except for his cigarettes. His left arm is missing, and you can't help but wonder what's the story behind this.

Frozen Operator - Johann (M)

He is... a weird man. Tall and muscular like someone working in the fields all day long. But at the same time his skin is the palest and the coldest you've ever seen, and his eyes are sunken as if he was spending many sleepless nights doing paperwork. He's also the only one without any visible wounds, which is very unusual to see in this place. Johann seems like a kind and outgoing man, but he hides something deep in his heart.

Blind Journalist - Gelsomina (F)

Upper half of her face is covered with bandages, but even so you can tell she's a very beautiful woman. Dark blood stains over the place where her eyes were never seem to fully dry. She is much alike that blood: restless almost to despair. This woman will either find peace or die, and the least seems to be most likely. Losing her eyes was a hard hit: she can't see, she can't write, she can't do her job which had always meant life for her. She lost every reason to live, but the fire of her stubbornness is blazing hard, keeping her alive and eating her from inside at the same time.

Wayward Nun - Jolan (F)

She is a strange sight. Dressed in nun robes which covers her whole body, she also wears a gas mask which she refuses to ever take off. This woman is like a walking fortress of her own, cutting off every direct contact with the outer world. She barely speaks, preferring simple gestures, or rather, not communicating at all. You don't know what she looks like, what she sounds like, but here's one thing you know for sure: guilt is seeping through every crack of her thick defense.

Demo - TBA

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #interact if #if wip #dashingdon #choice of games #hosted games #dusty meadows

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hanadoesstuffwrong · 2 months

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Thinking abt the air nomads:

What if, after the war, once the dust has settled a little, Aang goes back to travelling, hoping that maybe he can find at least some trace of surviving airbenders. As an added bonus, he gets to do more of the exploring and wandering that he had to put on hold.

Toph goes with him ofc. She only just got a taste of real freedom and it was overshadowed by ever-present impending doom. While she's on speaking terms with her parents, she isnt quite ready to be back under their roof on a permanent basis. The rest of the gaang have their individual homes and responsibilities that they get back to, though they join for the odd field trip or adventure when they can.

So anyway, they're touring all over the world and over the years they notice just how displaced so many people have become. EK citizens who barely escaped the blaze but lost everything; FN military now decommissioned with no idea how to carry on; people looking for a new start in the hard-won peace. Maybe it starts with Toph heading back to Earth Rumble, where a group of young runaways scrounge for cheap fights to make a little money.

At each turn they find more and more people with no homes to return to and no family to protect them; runaways escaping the roles the war forced them into. Gradually, Aang and Toph start to see that they aren't so different from themselves. They just want a new start.

So they decide to give them one. They clean up the temples and set up villages in the surrounding areas (helps to be master earthbenders), where people can arrive and stay as long as they need. Travellers and refugees pass through in droves, sometimes choosing to stay and rebuild their lives there, sometimes continuing in their wandering with a guarantee that they'll always have a place to return to should they have the need.

Over time, the lemurs grow in number and even some flying bison calfs (hybrids with a relative species maybe?), can be seen in the skies. Whenever the founders visit, it isn't the same but Aang feels a little more at home.

The first time someone asks Aang to teach him his philosophies, and expresses his desire to become a monk, how can he refuse? Maybe it's a former soldier, somebody who's done terrible things, looking for a path to redemption. So Aang teaches him, and then he teaches others. And though they may not be airbenders, they are as earnest and faithful as any nun or monk Aang knew before. The temples become filled with new faces: Firebenders, Earthbenders, Waterbenders and non-benders all wearing Air nomad orange and yellow.

Aang always feared that it would be his responsibility to have airbender children, and the idea of forcing that on someone he loved terrified him. Maybe that's why he waited so long before acting on his feelings for his best friend, his travelling companion, his fellow-village builder and temple-restorer. How could they have a truly happy relationship with this pressure hanging over them? He wishes he could be content with the new way of things that he and his friends have created. But he knows that he can't be the last airbender forever...

Nobody knows why some children can bend the elements and others can't. Is it blood? Is it blessing? Is it the land in which you're born? Or is it the simple allocation of fates decided by the values and norms you're raised believing in? Is it enough to be surrounded by the culture and beliefs of the Air Nomads? Nobody knows...

All they know is that nobody sees it coming when the six-year-old daughter of two non-bender villagers from the Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe sends herself flying twelve feet into the air with a sneeze.

#oops it became a taang au how did that happen #i just think it wld be neat if the air nomads worked more like irl monks/nuns #not necessarily celibate but still made up of people who choose to follow the way of life #instead of the iffy implications of all monks/nuns having no choice because they were born airbenders #i dunno it's iffy to me #taang #my posts #atla #atla headcanon #do we need to rewatch Ice Age 2 ppl??#repopulation is not a good reason for two people to be together!#avatar: the last airbender #i do also think that given them being nomads the fire nation probably want able to wipe the air nomads out completely #bu they just had to survive in hiding/ in a very diluted form #maybe like the sun warriors do #airbender!Ty Lee my beloved #also wld reflect the themes of unity vs division well if there were more than just airbenders among the air nomads #like how a waterbender can be a ruler of the Fire Nation or a Firebender can run a tea shop in the Earth Kingdom #toph x aang #edited cos someone got upset at my introduction and while i reckon they were willfully misreading i didnt want anyone to misconstrue #to clarify -> any child of aang's wld be an air nomad but there's no guarantee they wld be an airbender #esp if he had a child with an earth or waterbender #and we see how this had a negative effect in canon #hope that clears things up xx

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12u3ie · 1 year

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Hi I am NOT normal about pottery shards and I WILL talk about them

AKA: under the cut is me explaining all the pottery shard designs out in Minecraft 1.20 snapshots as of now (March 23, 2023) in alphabetical order, going over their design and their possible meaning in the lore. Pictures of each shard will be above the text of the listed shard. Now, let's get on with it shall we?

Angler. Starting off simple. A fishing rod with a fish at the end. The ancient society knew how to craft fishing rods and catch fish.

Archer. A drawn bow and arrow. They crafted bows and arrows and knew how to use them. Probably related to skeletons somehow. Maybe the skeletons are them? Maybe the skeletons just stole their technology once they were gone? Unsure.

In real life, bow-and-arrow technology was revolutionary in terms of human evolution. Some archeologists even theorize that bows were the tools that began the end for our cousins, Neanderthals. But in Minecraft... who knows?

Arms Up. A humanoid figure with their arms raised. The arms-up pose means something unknown. Perhaps a gesture of friendship, or peace? What we do know is that, for near certain, the ancient peoples were humanoid in nature, close if not near identical to modern players.

Blade. A sword. Very similar to the standard Minecraft sword model, with a slightly different hilt. Maybe a pixel art limitation, maybe not. The ancient peoples knew how to make swords.

Brewer. A bottle of some description. Seems like a mixed design between a glass bottle and a cauldron. Nevertheless, it has its origins in brewing. They knew how to brew potions. Did they have a different system of brewing to the modern day, or did they have access to the Nether for materials? Currently unknown.

Burn. A flame. They knew how to make fire, or at least knew of its existence. But drawing on the last point, perhaps it's not a fire, but a blaze powder instead. The textures are oddly similar to one another.

Danger. A creeper. Seems like these mobs have been around for a while, and have always been a pain in the backside to watch out for. Wonder if they replied to such a call of danger with "aw man."

Explorer. A map with an X, marking a specific spot. They hid treasures in the ground likely in the same way of IRL pirates - marking a spot on a map for later. Sadly, from modern treasure maps found in shipwrecks, it seems they weren't able to get back to all their spoils in time. Also indicates they knew how to make and use maps.

Friend. An iron golem face. The ancient peoples knew that iron golems existed and that they were protective and friendly towards them. Perhaps, building upon other, older theories, they made the iron golems themselves.

Heart. A standard heart shape. Possibly a visualization of love. Or perhaps they had hearts within them as humans do in the real world, and this is what they looked like.

Heartbreak. A heart broken in two down the vertical center. ...Let's go with the first assumption of the previous shard's imagery. A broken heart is often a symbol of a bad feeling over a lost relationship. The ancient society had intricate relationships between its peoples. They loved and fell out of love, in any and possibly every such meaning of the term.

Howl. A wolf. In the words of a dear friend of mine, "They had doggies!" Or, more likely, began the process of domesticating wolves into the tamable breed we know today. At the very least, they knew of the existence of wolves, regardless of whether the ancient people-wolf relations were good or not.

Miner. A pickaxe. The ancient peoples were able to craft tools like pickaxes to mine for resources. The pickaxe here, much like the sword, is slightly different in design to what we know today.

Mourner. A warden. Now this... this is a very interesting one. I have my own theories that would require a bit more explaining than this format will allow for. (Maybe I will express such thoughts at a later date, if readers wish to hear them...) Let your thoughts be known in the tags!

Plenty. An open chest. This proves that the ancient peoples had the ability to craft chests, and the need for extra storage beyond what could be carried (presumably in their inventories, if they had them).

Prize. A gem. This is an indicator that they were able to mine for resources. Now, some sources may indicate this as a diamond. However, the shape is very distinct from that of any diamonds ever in Minecraft. This may be a completely new - or rather, very old - and different gem than anything players have seen before.

Sheaf. A bundle of wheat. They had means of farming and collecting wheat, and perhaps other crops as well. Agriculture is a part of their culture.

Shelter. A tree. They were able to hide from the elements underneath trees, later emulating this with their own buildings.

Skull. A skull. This could either be the skull of a skeleton mob, from which the skull item drops today, or perhaps the skull of the deceased. They knew of skeletons and death in one form or another.

Snort. A sniffer. This proves that sniffers existed at the same time as this ancient civilization, and that these people were in some form of contact with sniffers.

-~-~-

Remember that anything listed here was important enough to the society of ancient peoples to be immortalized in the art of their pottery. Each one of these has some sort of significance.

-~-~-

Taglist: @darubyprincxx @nightshadeowl @eagle-warri

#i use the word 'golem' only because of its use in-game #i do not fully agree with the term and prefer construct #figured i should state that loll #twelves rambles #minecraft #mineblr #twelves theories #also another disclaimer: any one of these could be wrong #these are educated guesses here #can use for theories IF CREDITED #emphasis on the CREDITED

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rise-my-angel · 6 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

23 - Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 18.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of child death disease and miscarriage, references to rape, warfare and strategy talk, exploration of past trauma, mild sexual descriptions

Notes: The story on Dragonstone is based on a book only plot from A Dance with Dragons for any who aren't familiar with the characters. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Come the end of morning, he was gone. By the tinting of nightfall as the sun set below the sea, was when you learned you were soon to be as well. It had been a long night, your mother had been spending all of her time in those hours with Maester Cressen, with a number of midwives running back and forth along with your father. It didn’t make sense to you at first, it was far too early for your brother to be born. She had only been showing for a few months and he was not to come into this world until the year turned over to the next.

But then he was gone. It had happened a second time, and finally you understood that you were the problem. When your mother lost your first brother, she had stopped spending time with you and even now you both barley spoke. Father still did, but she couldn’t look at you and you knew she blamed you for it. There was none other to explain, and then father had brought you into the main hall of his living quarters.

She still barley looked at you as they explained your new brother was lost, but that was not all. You were to be sent away. “I will be staying here to look after your mother while she recovers, the guard will accompany you on the journey there until you have reached Winterfell into Lord Stark’s care.”

Silent and wide eyed, you looked to your mother who had but a dispondant and distant glint in her eye as she turned her gaze away when she caught yours. Your father stood tall before you and none bothered to tell you the truth of why, but you knew.

“How long will I be gone?”

Your father was very matter of fact about it, “A number of months. At the least until the new year begins but likely longer. You will take any and every opportunity to learn at his side.” The room was painfully quiet from all three members of the family. Calling your name you hadn’t noticed your gaze wandered to the floor, snapping back up to meet your father’s eyes. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, he seemed to accept it. Moving around to the table, taking a seat as he and your mother shared a look. At the time you thought it was dismissal, sending you off as if once walking out that room you would instantly step onto the ship away forever. Your mother didn’t like the North, neither did your father really. Speaking of it as if it were unruly and full of people that one should stay away from.

That’s how you knew it was a punishment, that it was all your fault for your brothers. Sending you alone to a scary, cold place where you knew none and would be under a new families care following their every order. You were not welcome in your own home. Born first, it seemed as if you were what held back your brothers from joining his life. Sons were supposed to come first, then daughters and yet you were her very first and that must be ruining everything.

It was so exciting when you learned mother was pregnant again, pregnant with a boy again. You had been only six when your first brother had gone and now at eight you had been over the moon to be given this second chance. Your gift was even better the first. You were far better at crafting now and it had sat on the flat surface of your dresser for months to ensure when he was here you could grab it to gift it to him right away. Spending time reading to make sure everything you made the toy with was safe and that he wouldn’t break it easily.

The halls felt so empty, dark and grim as night took the rest of the sun away as did the mood of the island. Feet dragging as did the weight in your head sink lower and lower to your heart and filled with a metal that might just break through the sturdy build of the many floors below. Light peeking through the ends of a door, you managed to reach your bedroom with a heavy sorrow.

Slipping inside, you moved to push the heavy door closed entirely before turning around with a sigh. The room was partially set up for you with cases to pack your things in on the floor waiting. The window still open blowing the translucent curtains over the air and washing onto your bed making it nice and cool you suspected, but the gentle breeze did not feel refreshing.

Hands reaching up to wipe at the tears you were annoyed had fallen the entire walk to your room, more felt in their place. Eventually having to give up, knowing they would keep doing so. Only when you turned to your dresser to begun pulling out clothes, you saw the toy. Sitting ready to be brought to him, and it dawned on you.

He was lost today, and it was not yet over. Until the moon passed over the middle of the sky above Dragonstone you had time. Rushing to grab the toy, you stopped to grab a sheet of paper and ink, putting them onto the carpet. There was a set of long drawers across one wall, and at only eight you winced as you stood next to the edge and pushed it along the floor until there was enough space to easily fit behind it. Pulling back the edge of carpet draped was a jagged stone that didn’t quite sit at settled as the rest. Your fingers dug into the sides, wiggling it just the right amount until it gave.

Only the framework was left, the stone hollow inside as it surrounded a small box. Wooden and dyed a rich blue with deep orange foxes outlined over it, you shifted backwards with it. Kneeling down on the floor on your knees, you pulled open the lid and just like you remembered, the first toy you ever made still sat as peacefully as when placed there. You pulled down the new one, as well as the paper and ink, giving yourself enough room on the flat part of the floor to sit it in front of you. The toy and box sitting just to their side.

Biting your tongue, you tried to recall the words and luckily there was still enough in your head to conjure them up as you recalled reading. Writing neatly, you wanted to make sure it was as clear as could be read and no mistakes made, not even in spelling. Your penmanship had become more skilled in two years at least. You paused for a moment, glancing up around your room but there was nothing close to that of a seal, you’d have to draw it again.

Instead you continued to write. Words which a septon would speak as they would name a newborn child under the Light of the Seven. Written just as you could hear them being spoke aloud, not that you ever did with your own family. You now knew that it was impossible you ever would, you had cursed your mother. Without a seal, you leaned down over the paper to focus even more. The Stag needing to be drawn with much more precision as the gods might not recognize it were you to be lazy.

A large space at the bottom of the page was waiting now, brows narrowing in consideration just as last time it was up to you. Mother and father had never gotten as far as a name so you once more had to run through what sounded like the name of a boy matching the appearance you were seeing in your mind. One finally coming to you, you scrawled it out before pulling back to look it over. The words of faith written neat and clear, the sigil of a stag drawn much better then two years ago and right at the bottom you felt your heart both sink and swim at the name you chose for your second brother.

“Edric Baratheon”

Grabbing the box, you held it in your lap raising up the new toy as your hands traced over it. At least Petyr would have a brother to keep him safe now. Gently you sat the toy down inside and covered it back up. Hiding it in the hole in the floor, stone back covering it’s place and carpet draped to hide it’s presence. Putting the paper up onto the drawers for now as you strained your small muscles to push it back into place.

None were around nor were there voices to be heard from a muffle, you had a perfect time if you rushed. Moving to the brazier by the corner of your room you gently lit the paper’s edge until a flame overcame. Putting it down into the middle as fire overtook and begun to ashen it’s contents, you moved around your room to gather the rest. A thicker cloak wrapped around your shoulders and hiding your front from the night sea breeze and a small bag you hung across your torso to sit at your side.

Moving to the brazier again, a small pouch in hand, you blew out the remains and the embers dulled with it. Still hot but there was not much to grab, you scooped the remains up and let them all sit in a small pouch. Pulling the drawstrings together it closed it off as you slipped that into the bag. For the final, you rummaged under your bed until it was found, the little blade you kept safe from last time. It had been stolen from the kitchens but you hid it under your mattresses and sheets deep to hide where none could see it.

Putting that too in the bag, you made your way to open the door. Hallways were empty and the rest of the journey was what you seemed to think was a breeze.

The sounds of the sea crashing against the rocky shores was booming. A thunderous crash of water that echoed around you like thunder, making the journey that much more treacherous on your own. There was a sept closer then this, but something about the statues against the torches of fire around made here feel more meaningful. It was closer to the earth, the ground, the sea ahead of you making way for an easy path to the heavens and you suspected he would be blessed faster this way.

You were small against seven statues, all tall and spread apart across the sand to give each offering their own space. The Seven all asked for the same things, but demanded different givings of nature and each passed their own curses down for breaking such vows. By the brazier near the entrance to the site, you used a small holder and carefully tipped it’s end into the flames. Letting it gently ignite, the wind asking to blow it out but you kept your other hand cupped around the back of it to shield.

Each Statue given a blessing of light as candles were sat in pockets carved into the stone that would be replaced as they gave out. Luckily, they were mostly new and no rain had come to ruin it. But there was one god you must see in special, you came to her last. Each statue before it having seven, but you needing only to light one single candle in the middle to the ones you did not mean to pray to, before making your way over. Wanting to save your prayers for her mercy.

The Mother was the god which overlooked those such as you, seeing the blessings of children new and old and it was her grace which allowed women to bear child. She also, could take it away just as fast. A thing you were here to once more ask to forgive.

At only eight you were short enough to not need to kneel to the candles, only leaning down slightly you lit all Seven etched into the base of the Mother. Your mind was silent as with each lighting you spoke your prayers in your heart asking for her to listen and grant you just once with begs of mercy to the other six watching over.

Letting it drop after shaking the remaining fire out, you stood in front of her. Looking up at the beauty the statue captured and could only ask her to forgive him. He was not at fault, and the pain of your own mother was too great to grant him a true name and life before passing. “Let me repay such a debt for my sins, allow my hands and my blood to grant my brother a name and pass him onto the heavens. If I am why Petyr was not allowed to be of this world, let me give my new brother a name and join them together.”

Your voice was so small, a high breathy tone that spoke more now then you would for weeks coming to you. “My sins should not damn them for eternity, you can curse me with whatever you see fit but allow me to help my brother, help Edric, pass onto the worlds beyond.”

Pulling out the small pouch, you held it to your heart as you looked up to the Mother, and with only splashes against the waters and no booming thunders or crashes she gave you permission to pass him on. Pulling the bag over you off, you took out the only other item inside, the small ornate blade which had only use once more just as this. Looking to her eyes, you knew that without a body, she would need blood to give way for Edric along with the ashes of his namesake.

Paper with his name was all he was, and your blood would have been his. Wincing, you let the blade drag across your palm, holding back tears as the sting burned in the salty air. But it was done and as the red oozed out, you looked up to her one last time. Your free hand dropping the blade into your bag and opened the small pouch, and let the ashes gently drop into your bloody palm.

Stepping to the middle of the clearing, you carefully moved until only a foot into the tides of the water. There was no body, just as with Petyr, but you would let him spread out to be washed away to wherever the gods let what remained of his existence on land. Gripping it tight in your palm, finally you closed your eyes, kneeling down to the ground with your palms braced in the watery sands under the tides.

Much of the Faith of the Seven was said in words and prayers, rituals and rules that must be followed but this was the best you could do. Give your brothers a name, bleed for them and wash them into the waters with the Mother to guide them and eternal hell would finally end for their suffering.

It was your fault, your mother did not want to be around you for cursing her with only a first girl and now your father has decided you must be sent to a place that gave you worries and nightmares. You knew nothing of the Northerners, but being sent away to them was to get you away from your mother. Give her a chance to heal, and maybe find refuge in a son without you there to bare down on her.

You had been there far too long. Now sat on the sand, your feet free and bare in the cool tides, and your knees tucked up to your chest, arms wrapped around them you finally stopped feeling the sting of ash and salt water that seeped into your hand. You had put your gloves on, at least you could hide it for the time being. The waves were loud enough that it masked the clink of chains until they came beside you.

Looking to your left, Maester Cressen found his slow way to the ground to sit next to you. A bashful look overtaking your features as you knew you were expected to be up in your room packing. Unlike what your father might have been, he was gentle in his tone. “I thought I had seen a tiny doe sneaking around the castle.” Your shoulders shrunk in on themselves, your eyes watching the dark sea once more. Essos was said to be far away in this direction, but you could see nothing just as you would see nothing trying to find King’s Landing on the other side of the island. “This is the second time you’ve snuck out at night to come here, and if I’m not mistaken it was under the same circumstances. Is this about your brother?”

Your throat closed, a heavy weight sat hard in it which was filled to the brim with unshed tears. Giving a nod, he let a hand run across your hair, the comforting sensation causing you to sink further into yourself and push out the tears from it’s temptation entirely with a shaky breathe. “The Mother cannot help him if my father and mother won’t name him. It’s my fault, so I need to help him pass into the heavens.”

Maester Cressen leaned forward, looking to your side profile with a heavy heart of his own. “Now, tell me, why would you think this is your fault? None of us can control what the gods choose for us.” The only reaction you gave him, was to shrug one shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to explain to him why you could feel your heart as cursed. Your father would have found such notions foolish, and so would he.

Baratheons do not act like children he would teach you, and they must stand on their own two feet no matter how difficult it is. It was the only way to grow up and be stronger willed then that of the fools around you, your father had many times said. It was silly to tell anyone such childish thoughts of curses and blessings. “I was born before Petyr and Edric, which means I would be their older sister. So I have to be responsible for them.”

Maester Cressen smiled, none but him knew of what you had done for your unborn brother, and now you had shared your second one with him too. He suspected one day that thought would find itself as a comfort to Selyse, but the pain was too raw. Yet, her only child, their only daughter sat outside in the shores of the sea begging the gods to grant mercy for children you had never met. This was a sad place for any child to grow up, he thought.

“They are lucky to have you. The gods grant mercy to those who pray to them with honourable intentions.”

You had been quiet for a moment, and when you did it was in an even quieter tone. “Will they hear me all the way up North? The gods?” Turning to look at him, eyes wide and full of a far away nervousness all over. “They say Northerners pray to the old gods, will the Seven be angry with me if I pray there and the old gods hear it?”

He had to not laugh, such a small little question but you were as deadly serious as your father on his roughest of days. Wondering one day, if he will be able to hear you grinding your teeth from the other side of the castle as he swore he could Lord Stannis. “They do have a sept in Winterfell, but even if you speak to the old gods, I’m sure ours will understand. I know going there seems scary, and leaving your parents and friends behind here-”

You were quick to interrupt, a shortness in your voice but one also lonely. “I don’t have any friends.”

To no fault of your own, there were not many children your age to make friends with. You didn’t know that part of why your father chose Winterfell was so for a while at least, you could be around children your own age. Maester Cressen felt sorrow in his heart, you were a lonely, isolated child with a family that did not find it in their own hearts to give such love and affection, as you wanted to show brothers that never came to be. Selyse found the stories of the Northerners to be unruly and unfitting of you, but he knew that at their best they were a lively bunch that would do good for you.

“Well, when you finally come back in the new year, perhaps you will be already dreaming of going back and see your new Northern friends, then to stay here with no one but me to keep you company.”

While he chuckled, you didn’t. You did dream of the North, but only in nightmares. Looking out to the sea, you could only remember the same dream you kept having. A dream of you wandering a Northern forest, dark and snow all around you and the black in your vision closing in. Closing in on you until there was only one small strip of forest you could walk through.

On one end were the growling snarls of wolves and a pair of blood red eyes that seemed to shine in the darkness. And the other? Only the sounds of ice as if loudly cracking along a lake, and crystal blue eyes glowing even taller in the darkness opposite of the red.

Your face winced as you took another sip, trying not to let the bemused look in Jon’s eyes get to you anymore then it already had. “Where did he say he got this from?”

There was a small smirk on his face, taking a sip of his own hiding his displeasure better then you. “He said it came from a merchant near Pentos.”

Wyman Manderly had so graciously shared an ale he had acquired from Essos, that and a few other things as a claimed penance for having been sided with the Boltons. Jon insisted nothing was needed, but the Lord was not to be debated with. The food was more then welcome, as you had sniffed out he had been holding off resources beforehand. Lord Wyman of course, denied ever purposely withholding resources and it was merely a coincidence he came into so much to share only upon Jon’s crowning.

You hadn’t quite been in the right spirits to laugh, but he, Jon and the Lords in the main hall gathering certainty shared a good smirk over it.

Food that would keep, and had been building up for a little while along with a good fresh haul of meats that would feed many as the greater numbers were here for a time. The ale however, was truly not your taste. Or anyone’s you imagined. Thick and bitter with an aftertaste that almost was worse then the initial flavour itself. “I could name a hundred disgusting thing’s I’d rather drink before choosing this all on my own.”

Shrugging, he put his own down with a heavier thud. “Now you’re starting to sound like a fancy girl who grew up near the capitol.” Rolling your eyes with a held back smirk, the only sounds left in the room was the fire blazing on the wall closest to you both. Night had long fallen by that point, and awake in one of the smaller studies you both had found excuses not to sleep quite yet.

In the corner on a softer blanket was a large ball of slumbering white fur however. Ghost had taken well to being back in Winterfell, having now also the pleasure of being allowed to wander the castle halls as he liked. Well behaved, quiet, mostly keeping to himself if not out in the woods or sticking around Jon’s side. He had no trouble sleeping, and you were willing to bet with not much in the way of nightmares either.

Something both you and Jon were not unfamiliar with by now. Putting your own down, slightly further away from you then needed, you huffed a laugh. “Wait until you see where I was raised, then I’ll ask you who between us grew up in luxury.”

Grey eyes trained heavily on yours, Jon still seemed to be trying to figure something out. He had gotten far better though at hiding his intentions and thoughts much to your dismay. He could read you better then you could him now. Looking away to the fire, leaning his forearms against his knees he gave out a quiet sigh. “He doesn’t hate you, he has no reason to say no if we tell him exactly what what I told you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt the starts of a ruminating headache. “He didn’t help us when he knew we would need it most, why would he suddenly decide to help now? You weren’t even King yet and he still refused.”

Jon was more confident then you however, his voice unwavering. “He knows as well as I what’s out there, he knows why this is important. He’s stubborn, not unreasonable.”

Difficult to remember that these days it felt. Your nails tapped at your lip, almost unconsciously tracing along where the faintest of scars still sat if one looked close enough. Jon murmured your name but you only watched the fire more. Still now, you saw no visions or scenes running before you. Whatever god your father answered to now, left you alone in the dark with no guidance.

Your voice was low and somewhat far away. “He isn't unreasonable with you perhaps. The last time I sided with the King in the North instead of him, he spent three years calling me a traitor. And I spent three years thinking one day he’d send his armies for us instead of the Lannisters.”

“It’s different now.” You glanced over to him, eyes bright as they looked at you. A fight in them to not reach out to you in that very instance, he was adamant however at keeping his distance when you were like this. He was not given that kind of space when he desperately needed it, so he would make sure you had it instead. “You’re not fighting the Lannisters anymore. You’re here, fighting for more then that, fighting for something your father also believes in. We won’t even be asking for help, just his ships. Just enough for men and mining. His men will need something to fight back with one day too.”

Your nod was more absent minded then you intended. Gaze drifting away from him to the fire without any focus behind it. “It’s hard to believe, I dreamt about it that whole time and never knew. No one knows. Everything that’s coming and not a single one of us would’ve been ready for it. Except you.”

Trying to brush it off, the denial in his eyes was clear. “Not just me-”

Cutting him off you leaned forward now trying to meet his gaze a bit more. “Everyone’s here because of you. They are all listening to this and trust that you’re telling the truth, because it’s you saying it. Do you think if I alone was going around pleading them to fight against the dead beyond the wall a single one of them would have listened?”

He had said it to you before but felt no hesitancy in reiterating that now once more. “You were never going to do this alone.” Trying to say his name in protest, Jon shook his head. “Your father offered to make me Lord of Winterfell, name me a Stark if I gave him my allegiance, but I said no. I didn’t think I deserved it, and I felt my vows were more important then to just give them up like that. Then I found out you were alive, and it all suddenly hit me. Leaving you that day on the Kingsroad, something was trying to tell me it was a mistake leaving you.”

You bit your lip before dropping your head down slightly to the floor. Sighing out, “I’m not quite sure I would’ve fit in at the Night’s Watch.” Raising back up you found his eyes, a seriousness in them which lightened at the gentle playfulness in yours before you simmered down. “The first time it ever happened was after they arrested myself and your father. Seeing you, I mean.”

His eyes narrowed in question as you elaborated. “We had confronted Cersei and Joffery in front of the court, trying to plead our case and it all went wrong. We had trusted Peter Baelish to secure the City Watch on our side, and at the last minute they turned on us. Killed what was left of your father’s men and tossed us both into the black cells. I don’t remember much of it now. At the time I wasn’t even sure if it was real, a dream or if I was just delirious at that point. I remember it felt freezing, and then fire, a small bit of it as if it flew right past me and feeling whatever point I was seeing, like you were shoving me out of the room.” It connected then to Jon, knowing exactly what you had seen.

“Ghost found two rangers beyond the wall, they’d been dead for a while but they didn’t look it. Maester Aemon was keeping them to look them over, and one of them got up. Middle of the night Ghost brought me to the Lord Commander’s quarters, and we saw one of those dead rangers with blue eyes up walking around, nothing could hurt him.” You leaned forward a bit, following the trailing distance in his eyes fading to a memory. “He was coming right at us, so I threw a lantern at him and as soon as he caught fire I shoved the Lord Commander out of the room.”

Both of you looked at the other. You had no way of knowing it, no way of connecting those in your mind but it was there all the same. The cold, the bodies, the blue, the creatures something wanted to beckon you back to the North and at the same time it showed Jon you. As if telling him letting you be so far away was a bad idea.

Something wanted you two together, but it was hard to know what your place was in it now that you were back and Jon was alive. “My point is, even back then, something was trying to find ways to bring you back North. You were never going to have to do this, any of this on your own. Maybe we were always supposed to fight this one together.”

The room was quiet for a while, neither of you finding any reason to break the comfortable, warm silence wrapping around both of you. Your eyes were on the fire, his on you but the silence was welcome. It always was between you both. Jon was quieter, and in ways, softer then Robb was. Less direct and confident, but his dedication was clear as day in the small subtle ways he was with you. Neither of you needed to share any kind of physical contact to feel close to the other, it was simply in the air at all times.

Your voice was quiet as it whispered out, but loud enough in the emptiness of the room. “It means a lot to him, that you trust him.” Glancing to catch his eyes already watching, you flickered them quickly back to the fire. Leaning your arms more against your legs, clarifying, “Theon. He knows he as a long way to go, but after everything..I think it helps knowing he has more then just me now.”

Voice low, he still could only watch you. The tremendous weight looming through the two of you over the things that he would never truly know had happened. “I spent over eleven years growing up with him, and not once did he ever act anything like he does now. And I’ve never seen you two stick to each others side like this before, either.”

For a moment, it was almost as if you could feel yourself back down in the cold, damp cells of the Dreadfort. “I was almost delirious when Ramsay first brought him down to me. I don’t even know how long I had been in there by that point, couldn’t keep anything down and I was fairly certain my fever was so high I was starting to hallucinate. For a brief second, I almost thought I had made it up, I’d never seen him like that before it had to be fake. Ironically, he thought the same looking at me.”

A weight behind Jon’s eyes felt like it bore into you, the grey bright but tinted with a sorrow that you couldn’t look away from. It was as if he knew what was not being said in your mind, patient enough in his heart to wait for it to come from you all on your own and it was impossible to keep it back the longer he kept your gaze. You finally looked away with a shaky inhale, turning to look back at the fire as if it made it any easier. “It seems childish..very childish..but it’s..frustrating that it doesn’t feel any better. Ramsay being gone..I thought maybe I would feel relieved, or vindicated but it’s all exactly the same was before.”

Voice low, almost a whisper, but leaned so close to the other it boomed loud in your own ears. “Part of me wondered if I should've felt guilty for not caring when Ygritte was killed.” Whereas some would look at him with a sympathy, you didn’t even notice you only watched Jon with a narrowed, sharp look in your eyes. As if you were simply feeling everything others should have felt for him. Almost the same anger that he held for your pain.

“She loved me..or..a version of me and she died. And I felt nothing.” His eyes much like yours had, trailed off, finding the fire as you did earlier. “I could’ve held her, cried, brought her North to burn her properly but I just left her there. Let her get dragged onto the pile of the rest of them, and the only time I ever thought about her was when someone else would bring her up first. Grenn and Pyp died that night and that still hurts more then she ever even meant to me.”

A pained rage almost sat below the surface, a rough strain in his voice as if scratched raw. His hands you could tell, were clenched enough into fists as they sat across his knees the knuckles were turning white from the tensity. Only leaning a slight forward, you tilted your head to better see his face, the slow action causing him to swallow harshly as you spoke with the same volume but all of the softness he hadn’t been. “That’s because they saw someone who didn’t have to hide who he was, and they cared about him all the same. The version of you they died fighting beside was one who never had to lie to get them to trust him.”

He was quiet, and neither of you felt the need to break it before he was ready. He wanted you to talk about Ramsay, to not let it fester, but what was he doing if not holding it all in, himself?

When he finally found his voice again, it almost sounded angrier then before. “She would’ve hated you.” Your own brows narrowed in confusion, but Jon didn’t find your eyes. His jaw clenched as he sighed heavily and none of that anger left him with it. “Ygritte. Always would say she was my woman, then turn around in the same sentence and threaten me about ever leaving her like she thought it was cute. Not realizing I’d dream about you, see you in my head, couldn’t get you out of my mind no matter how hard I could have tried. Thinking of you was the only reason I could..”

He swallowed harshly, the side of his vision seeing you lean forward, giving him space but not for a moment letting him feel as if he was sitting or speaking to no one. You simply knew as long as he could see you, he could find the strength in his chest to continue, and it made his heart heavy at how easy it was for you to know exactly what he needed.

His voice was a little less rough this time around. “I almost called out your name once. Would try and tune her out when I would have to.. But one time I was so far into a memory, seeing you so clearly in my mind that for a moment I almost forgot who she was. And I know if I had, if she wouldn’t kill me for it, she’d have killed you if she ever met you. Knew if she ever found out about you, it didn’t matter what I said she’d have hated you enough to put an arrow through you. Hated the one person I’ve been in love with my whole life, and I think that made me hate her.”

He’d never said it before. Had to come to terms with lying about loving or even caring about her, but never had admitted to himself that he might have finally come around to hate. But glancing back up at the silent, patient warmth in your eyes, Jon knew he did. Knew that he hated her for even having a place in his mind still, because she stood against everything you were.

“She sounds like someone Robb wouldn't have been happy seeing you with.”

It took you by surprise, but Jon gave a laugh. A genuine burst of laughter that had him drop his head for a moment as his shoulders shook slightly. “I think so too.” Coming back up, he found your eyes again and neither looked away this time. “Think he also would also been unhappy at the man with you now?”

A small smile found it’s way onto you, not a hint of the playfulness he was hinting towards. Just a genuine radiating brightness that heated his heart faster then if he stepped right into the fireplace before you both as you spoke. “There’s nothing you could do that would’ve made Robb hate you. Nothing. Not now, not ever. He loved you, with everything he had, he loved you.”

You could have choked in that moment, but there was an adoration in his eyes as he didn’t blink, waver, and held nothing but an honesty he wanted you to hear as you had him. His hand finding a place gently on your jaw and cheek, thumb running across the skin he could reach. “And I love you, with everything I have.”

Whatever response he saw forming in you, he chose instead to lean forward. Closing the gap with a gentle kiss to your lips. Using his other hand to wind it’s way over to your hip before prompting you to stand with him. Not once disconnected the tender kiss, his lips soft and gentle as they almost coaxed you to relax in his touch. The hand on your cheek sliding back to run down your hair, smoothing it out before gently cupping the back of your neck, as his hand on your hip wrapped around your back, pulling you into his chest.

Your own palms placed flat on his collarbones, before moving to cup his cheeks. Not once did he let your lips break from his, the hand at the back of your neck almost to secure you against him. Let his lips gently kiss you, without greed or deeper desire, but not giving you the space to catch your breathe or kick off the dizziness of it.

Jon would never force you to marry him, or even come anywhere near push you for it. But as he gently lost himself in the taste and touch of your lips, there was not a single future he could imagine were you not in it. She spoke as if she had any rights to what his life would become, but there was never a future with Ygritte that didn’t end in his or her death because of her own destructive hatred of the things he now stood for beside you.

There was no image of her anywhere near here that existed. What would it even be? She would have found reason like Tormund? Even before it all blew up, Tormund had been more reasonable then she had. Would she have come with him and survive Hardhome? What kind of anger would have existed the second Jon wanted to leave to protect you? What would she have done when you arrived and he wasn’t there to stand between you? Would Tormund even still be at your side, would he still find room in his own strange heart to protect you from her, or would he side against you?

Ygritte being in Winterfell was impossible. She never would have come, not on this fight, this journey, never would have let herself anywhere near you or let Jon anywhere near you. It would’ve turned into a fight between her keeping Jon from you, and Ghost keeping you safe from her. You let Jon stand here, be soft and gentle, be vulnerable and hurt and let him promise to be the one to take care of you. It was sappy, and it was a kind of romantic notion he had long since come to terms many men would mock him for if he were ever honest about it. But Jon loved that you always so willingly fit perfectly into this gentle dream of romance in his mind.

Jon had taken care of you since that first day. Stepped forward the second Luwin had mentioned someone would need to be with you at all times because your fever had been that bad. Only a boy of ten and he took one look at you and for reasons he still didn’t understand, was certain in his mind that he wanted to be the one to care for you.

It was a joke to him, thinking that Ygritte assumed she was who he was supposed to be for. The first real time someone tried speaking of a future together with him, and it was with someone that forced him to fuck her against his will, someone who when he tried showing his true colours, always looked angry and violent he was having thoughts separate to her. Ygritte wanted his future to change to be one she would force herself to fit in, you were the one who tried to stand out of his way in case your feelings weren’t returned anymore.

But any future he saw, you were in it and you were his. He didn’t need you to marry him, but Jon knew that he certainly dreamed about it. And never before did the dream of marrying you feel closer then it did now. You were Robb’s wife and he didn’t want to take that away from you, but Jon couldn’t lie to himself and say that he didn’t wish he one day, might be able to call you his own wife.

It was a dream you both never thought was possible, and now there wasn’t a soul around you anymore who would find a problem with it. But you needed more time to heal then he did. He’d wait however long it took for you to find any comfort in the idea yourself.

It was always odd between you both. Your start was forbidden and slow, but the reunion was sudden, fast, and aggressive. Almost tormented by how you felt around him, how beautiful you were and the way the horrors of the world around him meant not a thing as long as he was inside you.

But now he wanted nothing more then to take it slow again. Just as the desire to call you his wife, Jon was also patient enough to take care of you as long as it took for you to be truly comfortable. In six years neither of you had gotten to the point you were ready to sleep together, now that you had?

Jon would wait a lifetime for you to be ready for him. Because were it reversed, you would wait an eternity for him to be ready for you. The past few days had been rough, and the future was uncertain in terms of the winter storms ahead, but as you both stood in front of the fire, finding no pressure to do anything beyond enjoy the gentleness of his kiss, Jon at least would savour this peace.

You wanted him to feel at peace, and he would do whatever it took to give that to you in return.

As the sun shined bright against the strange land, the only thoughts he could focus on were that he still had time. From everything he could gather without tipping a soul off, he had enough time to ensure everything over twenty years worked towards would make it before it could no longer be hidden. The skin was already grotesque. It was but a small patch, barley noticeable unless one were to rake his sleeves up high and even then, he made sure he was covering any and every chance it could spread.

No one knew after all. No one but him felt the disgust of the waters of Old Valyria seep into him like a thick poison, no one felt the growing crack along his skin until it burst into a grey. A grey that now sat in almost a small circle of scales that looked of dusting stones to mock him in.

He wasn’t the boys father he told himself. He wasn’t his father, he just needed to fulfill this duty and he could die or disappear to rot away. But as he stood on a walls edge in the castle of Dragonstone, looking down to the boy turned man amongst the sell swords trying to train him like a solider?

Jon Connington could only feel a pull at his heart rather then his arm.

They weren’t Griff and Young Griff anymore. He was once more the man he used to be, the one once Hand of the King, and the person his most beloved friend had trusted with his son. His son was soon to drop that facade, and it was hard to remember that lately. But he had to remember, Rhaegar didn’t trust the baby to him, to be his father. No, Rheagar had trusted him to raise his son until he was ready to avenge his death and take his rightful place on the Iron Throne.

Jon Connington’s only solace was that they had arrived in Westeros to find it in a broken and disorganized state. It would take much time to rally anyone under the true heir now that he had returned to his people, would take time for anyone to heal their own Kingdoms enough to join back into one united Kingdom together.

He had just a little longer at least, to fight against this strong and frightening feeling to call this boy his son for real. Standing in the morning shine repeating like a mantra, he was doing this for Rhaegar, he wasn’t doing this as a father. Say the words he had said for twenty five some years now. It was only for Rhaegar.

But just maybe, the grey under his shirt was telling him that the sooner they conquered Westeros, the sooner Young Griff would become the true heir forever. The sooner he would never have use of the Griff which was posed as his father, ever again.

Aegon would have the blood of Rheagar Targaryean, and Jon Connington would have no one.

It was the fire and roar of a creature you did not recognize that you were pulled from. A knock coming to the door far too early in the morning that was harsh enough it startled you right out of whatever that dream was. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was surrounding you in the crypt of Winterfell set ablaze, and above shadows drifted across the skies like dark clouds that roared as they passed over. In the far distance was growls of a wolf and the cries of an infant, but the door was knocked at, and quickly the trails of the dream faded away.

You in particular were the one the guard at the door was looking for. Saying there were people here claiming to need to see you directly. Eyes still heavy with sleep, and barley having much time to make yourself presentable you brushed passed Jon’s insistence on making them wait five more minutes so you’re not walking through the castle freezing at least. That habit however, had not gone away since your time in Winterfell together last.

The side doors to the main hall opened, most of the corridors empty and cold in the morning chill as most whom were up and about had been on night duties. Standing together a the end of the hall however, woke you up right away.

Ser Davos Seaworth stood tall as he always did, no matter the task he was ready at action, but while carrying a hesitant and morose expression grimed onto his face. It however, was his companion that had you stop mid step, wide eyed and lips parting in a confused surprise.

Beside him, standing in the halls of Winterfell was Selyse Baratheon.

A look on her, was as similar as it was on your face. Eyes wide taking in the sight of her daughter almost so naturally in what was home to you now. Instead of parting in surprise though, her lips were tight and thin as she almost was holding herself back from speaking a word. Your mother had never before wanted to step foot in Winterfell and yet here she was.

Nodding silently to the guards, they took their leave and the door closing behind them sealed the three of you alone in the large hall. Your footsteps echoed as you came down the small steps and forward towards them, Davos being the one to meet you halfway as your mother held back. Your voice was a bit cracked still from sleep, but any louder and your voice would have caught in the air and bounced loudly off the walls for any to hear.

“If it weren’t so early, Ser Davos I might have said how glad I am to see you.”

Chuckling himself, he begun to glance over you. Looking no doubt for any signs of injury and coming up with none. Standing close he was equally as quiet but far more awake. “Well, I’ll just have to be the one then to congratulate on your defeat of the Boltons,” lowering to a bit more with a fondness, “And I’m relieved you’re alright.”

Neither of you felt the care to hold back, his hug warm and comforting as there was more in it then the words said. You had left knowing it was a bloodbath and potential slaughter your people were walking into, and to see you come out alive on the other end struck a cord in his heart. Pulling back, his hand comfortingly on your upper arm, Davos turned to stand more to your side as he moved out of view of your mother.

Your name quiet on her lips, and a few paces forward she walked. Unlike with him, neither you nor her had any rush to go to the other, and neither of you hugged or even moved in for one. You were thankful no one else was in the room, to many it looked heartless but there was an awkward pain as you both looked at the other. It always was with her, especially now. Glancing around the room, “So this is where we were sending you all those years.”

“More or less.” Not quite the warm home full of life it once had been, hard to imagine it being that way again anymore. Your arms crossed over your stomach as you inhaled, turning to somewhat keep both parties in your vision. “I don’t imagine you both travelled all this way to simply stop by and say hello.”

Ser Davos took charge, coming back over to you with a more hardened stern expression. “No, and as much as we’d like it to be, we’re here because your father sent us.” Your face must have shifted into something bordering from hesitant to filling with a panic, but only the three of you stood in the hall and you knew to not let it overtake yet.

“What? He change his mind on not calling me a traitor again?” Your mother had tried to plead your name in a mixture of stern yet on the side of a beg. But you kept your eyes on Davos, and the blunt truth in his found an answer a bit easier.

Shaking his head, “No, I can assure you, it’s far from that.” Glancing to Selyse for only a flickering of his eyes before finding yours, narrowing in your brows as you were finding pieces already to put together on your own. “You remember Pylos?”

Nodding, you could easily recall him. The young man sent to Dragonstone, only a few years older then yourself, to work for the time being under Maester Cressen. All knew why he was there, Cressen was getting old and Pylos was to be the Maester after him. Trying to pile it away under much more things you couldn’t focus on, you ignored that likely it meant the man had finally passed since last you saw him.

Your head tilted in a question, eyes narrowing at whatever was to come, but instead the echoing creak of a door filled the room. Both of them merely looked up behind you to see, whereas you took your time not quite looking away yet. If it was about Pylos, it was about Dragonstone and perhaps once upon a time you would have not thought much of it. But now, you couldn’t figure out what would have happened to bring the two of them all the way here themselves.

Davos stepped forward, closer to your side as you turned the same time to find Jon having joined.

Curls as loose and wild as they were when you had departed, and dressed down like anyone else, immediately catching your eye in a way that had you feel a bit more awake. It was as he approached giving you a silent glance, eyebrow raised as if to make a point as he wrapped his white fur cloak around your admittedly freezing frame. The cloak quickly becoming more like yours at this rate.

A sneaking glance to your mother and you felt the childish shame in you, a sharp tint in her eyes that no doubt had caught something in the small interaction and it only served to make you feel even stranger. As if she could sense something from there, and was waiting to shame you for it.

Jon seemed to take no notice of the uncomfortable air between mother and daughter as he greeted Davos. The two shaking hands as Davos held his own amusement. “I was about to call you Lord Commander, but I suppose it’s King Snow now isn’t it? No, that doesn’t sound right, does it? King Jon?”

Both held a smirk to the other as Jon shook his head with a light air about him, “It doesn’t matter.” Looking up to your mother, nothing but a soft politeness towards her with a nod and respectfully keeping a distance he by now, understood she would prefer. “Surprise to see you here, my lady but a pleasant one.”

Selyse nodded, not saying much as she turned her attention back to you. This time your attention cut between all three and finding an unease in your heart over something you didn’t quite grasp, but Davos took charge for both of you. “At least it makes this easier, having both of you here.” Jon’s eyes only narrowed slightly in question, whereas your heart begun to race the slightest bit, tensing your muscles in their entirety as they did so. “I know yourself and Stannis did not part on the best of terms, your grace,” Davos now coming more back to you, an ask tinted in his eyes to simply hear him out first. “But he sent me here, himself. He’s received news that he insisted the both of you need to know.”

Your tone perhaps, was a bit on the unnecessarily biting side when it was not really deserved. “And it was something he couldn’t sent a raven for? Sending you both seems like a drastic action.” This time the uncertain look was between the two of them. Davos looking to Selyse as she only tilted her head in a small nod, speaking something you couldn’t detect to him.

“It might be easier if you read it for yourself.” Slowly, he pulled out an already opened raven scroll his hand slow as he raised it up to you specifically with a warning edge across his features as if to brace yourself. “Maester Pylos sent this to the King, arrived urgently in the middle of the night.”

Your eyes were wide, chest not moving much as air refused to flow through all of the piling nerves. A slow grasp of the paper before it sat heavy in your hands. Unfurling it to reveal the contents, you had turned slightly away from all three of them. Pacing towards the steps by the high table as your eyes took in the writing.

Jon had given Davos a questioning look, but he only looked towards where your back had turned against them in patience. He knew too well what it said, and you knew why he had chosen to let you read first.

Read and reread over and over, all of the air in your lungs had sought to leave your body. A tightening inside, your heart shrinking along with the force as something you couldn’t decide between a wide eyed astonishment came over your features, but the almost shaking panic in your muscles had you feeling the need to lash out.

There was no way this was true, it was impossible. But your father wasn’t a man to believe in petty rumours and whispers. No, Stannis knew what you would’ve needed from Dragonstone as well as he did and if he wanted you to know this, then this was real and it was serious. You couldn’t figure out the degree to which that scared you.

Turning back to face them, that fearful astonishment was painted heavily over your features as you looked to Davos. “Has anyone else-”

Knowing just what you were to ask, “We received reports from both the ports and villages as well. I don’t know if it’s gotten to the mainlands yet, but it will soon.”

Stepping slowly back, you let go of the raven scroll from the tightness in both your hands from the dumbfounded feeling inside you. Coming beside Jon, you didn’t hide or even find will to vary that same expression as you silently handed it to him.

As he read the words, you paced more, leaving to the opposite side far from any as you ran a hand over your mouth. Trying so badly to keep a calm, but then Jon tensed as well. A darker paint flowing over his eyes and a bewildered expression moving between you and Davos. He reread it as many times as you had, his voice rough, rasping and almost incredulous. “How would no one have known about this?”

You utterly hated the answer that Davos also had for it. An answer Jon wouldn’t have the experiencing to feel the chilling breeze from such a truth, but one that made you wanted to throw something, maybe scream. “We can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem impossible. One of his trusted advisors, is Lord Varys.”

The huffing breath of a laugh that left your lips was utterly meaningless. Your anger saw a chance to grow right before their eyes as you leaned against the table. Your eyes burning in a blaze staring at the floor as your hands tensed enough you risked the digging in your palms. “For the good of the realm..” Only a whisper, and now you truly wished to go down to the crypts and atone to Eddard Stark for having been forced to play and die in part of this game. Your voice was louder, trying to keep a barley held back anger sat just on the inside. “Who does he already have?”

“They have the Golden Company at their backs,” Your eyes narrowed, those kinds of numbers would be unsustainable on Dragonstone for long periods of time you knew too well. Davos continued however, “None have come to his side yet, but we knew of some who will likely declare for him once he makes his presence known.”

Your own voice finding some of those answers on your own, “Fair to assume the Martell's will, given they believe his story. So will the Tarly’s, and the Hightower’s.” Missing entirely a passing twist in Jon’s expression as you and Davos looked at the other.

This was why you knew he had to be sent here himself, this was too much to send in a raven. Davos stepped forward with a nod, “The numbers they have now aren’t great, they know they can’t keep many there for good, eventually they’ll have to make a run for the mainlands.”

One arm moved to cross around your stomach while the other rested up on it, your nails tapping at your lips trying to see enough of your time around the Royal Fleet to grasp what the best options for them would be. “They can’t go right for King’s Landing, they don’t have enough enough support for it, so we just need to get there before anyone with a sizable fleet can declare for him. At this point I don’t particularly care where they go after that, but we need Dragonstone more then they do.”

His voice rung out, louder then the quiet mumbling between you and Davos catching both of your attention as Jon put things together in his own mind. “I’m assuming you weren’t sent here hoping I��d make my people fight in someone else's war.” A darker, sharper flash was through his eyes as Jon stepped closer. “Stannis knows the only reason I need Dragonstone is to gain access to it’s mines, I’m not here to join any fight for the Iron Throne.”

Something more of an understanding came over Davos, and you were once more thankful it was him who was sent here and not your father himself. “I think he’s starting to finally learn that lesson.” You didn’t look at either of them. Only the floor as they spoke.

“Otherwise, I shall destroy you.”

The confidence in such a declaration that you and Robb were to be his enemies, and perhaps you knew this anger and spite in your heart towards your father just may have not forgiven him for that day.

Jon and Davos now, finding a plan as your mind had faded in and out of the present. “So I reach out first, I’m not here to question his legitimacy, I need one thing and if he cooperates then we don’t need to fight. But, I’m taking my men there all the same.”

Your mind had clearly drifted off longer then you thought you had, looking back up Jon and Davos were standing close having gone back and forth between things for some time it seemed like. Selyse, had been switching between watching them, and keeping an eye on your fading distance. You did not return the glance to her back.

Your name getting called by Jon, with the same kind of watchful gaze deep in his eyes as well, as he spoke quieter to you. “Are you with me?” To the others, sounding much like asking if you were agreeing to the plans, but you knew better. He was trying to gauge where your mind was sitting at without drawing attention to the concern behind it.

Nodding firmly, you pushed up and off the table coming closer to them. “I’ll have the men start gathering the Lords here right away.” He didn’t dispute it, but it clearly was an excuse to get yourself to leave the room without them quicker. But it was Davos, who stopped you.

Only letting you get a few feet towards the main doors, calling your name gently before pulling slowly something from a pocket. He was the one to meet you where you stood, handing a chain to you, a sturdy metal with a solid casing shaped in an almost diamond shape. Your brows rose in question, but his voice was soft as he placed it gently into your palm. “I told you I’d take her to visit you myself.”

You said not a single word as all of the air in you left. Neither other party there knowing what exactly it was which just occurred but Davos could see the red behind your eyes wanting to turn to tears and fall in that exact second. You just nodded, closing your hand tightly around it before making your leave quickly.

Giving instructions to some of the men nearby before you walked to an empty hall, all but throwing yourself against the wall out of sight. The necklace wasn’t anything one would call special, but it also wasn’t the simplicity of what you gave Davos first. He didn’t just keep her safe, he took what was left and had it made into something you could keep around your neck for any time or reason.

Your head hanging low as you clutched it tightly, holding it to your heart as your lungs burned wanting to find that strange mixture of pain to cry at, but instead you let your head thud back into the stone wall. Trying to breathe deeply, letting your eyes slip shut before any tears fell. You couldn’t do this now, you couldn’t think on her right now. There were more important things to prepare for, and yet it was only the sight and sounds of her calling your name. That last visit you saw of her, and how she had jumped into your arms with such excitement to see you.

Her head burying in your neck as you held her back tightly. Now you could stay there, Shireen. Safe right with me no matter what now. Your heart screamed in a burning pain, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it’s agony now. Or how such a simple act from Davos, was more then a single thing shared that day between you and your father over her.

You told Shireen you would one day bring her here, but she’d have to hold off a little bit longer before you could spend the right time making her at home. Right now, duty demanded things of you and pain in your heart was not part of that. No matter how much you wished it were.

If one was to ask both the free folk and the Northern Lords all in attendance, they would have said it was something that filled with pride. Those who knew them both well, those who knew the father before him and all those who once thought up there would be Robb Stark. But it wasn’t Robb sitting in his home as King in the North, nor was it Lord Eddard Stark sitting there was Warden of the North.

Instead, many found the sight of their new King in the North to be one that inspired. Jon Snow stood tall in his place, now covering the light layers of fabric and leathers was the same fur which had adorned him the previous day. Dark browns mixed with tints of black that sat as broad across his shoulders as ones like it did his father and brother. To the Northerners, it didn’t stand out to them that the other which sat next to the left of him. You had been Queen before, and none saw you less then now, as did the King.

Jon wasn’t a foreigner from the south, he was one that the people knew. Despite if he thought they would not see him or remember, they did. And you by his side instead of once Robb’s was not out of place either. The King in the North didn’t hide the deep care in his heart for you, nor did any think he should. But if they were to ask you both of your emotions?

It was a different story. To Jon, he was as sure in his words as he was unsure of his new title. King sounded wrong attached to him. Ser Davos had joked with him about both Snow and Jon sounding odd against the word King and yet deep down he felt it. He wasn’t Robb, but this was his Kingdom and all he could think was how much were his people judging him against his brother? What of his weaknesses would they sniff out in a second and wish it was different.

Was he worthy of his father’s seat? Did sitting feel so strange because he somehow felt that he hadn’t earned the things his father did? It all sat in his heart, but he couldn’t focus on that. He had to look at what was right in front of him, because no one else would. No other King or Kingdom would look at the truth and fight for it but he had to. Regardless of the insecurity in his heart. He could only press on, hoping he was not a disappointment to his father.

You however, felt your heart racing as you kept such a cold and still expression some may have thought you were a statue, had most here not been used to you. For the entire war, you and Robb had struggled to discuss a future in Winterfell knowing the state of war made what if’s difficult to see passed. But now, you did sit here, at the King in the North’s side in Winterfell but you couldn’t stop that wonder if you were looked down on for it.

It was an uncomfortable thought, and whether or not you truly realized it, the amount of taunting and mocking of Ramsay was doing it. The slimy words of accusing you of sleeping with the wolves, degrading you by acting as if you where some whore for the Stark men and now you couldn’t stop the fear that your people saw it that way too. Fucking your way back into being a Queen, going from one King in the North’s bed to the next.

Jon’s voice was loud in the hall, projecting to all present, many crowded around the tables and some finding a place against the walls around to watch. “We know of three ways to fight back against them. I cut through one of them using a Valyrian Steel sword and they shattered right in front of my eyes. We also know that fire kills them. The free folk have been burning their dead for hundreds of years because anytime they might rise back up.”

There weren’t whispers, but the Lords did look to each other with glances of varying worry. The free folk in attendance all looked with a pride of their own, as it grew better by the day of how many of the Northerns had begun to accept their presence.

“Burning the dead keeps them from the Others finding a way to raise them up for their army, and fire also will kill any that’s returned to life. Lord Commander Mormont was attacked by a wight, and no normal weapon could hurt it until we lit it on fire.”

It was not a promising outlook thus far. A steel which had little in existence, as well as the instability of fire as a defence. One final option though, came both with promise, but a caveat. “They also can be killed with dragonglass. One of my brothers in the Night’s Watch had found a stash of daggers carved from Dragonglass at the Fist of the First men, and when he shoved one of them into their backs, they shattered just as they did with Valyrian Steel. Dragonglass can kill Wights, it can kill the Others, meaning it’s more valuable now to us then gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons out of it.”

The question arose from the crowd, just as it had from Theon when the three of you discussed it alone. “Where would we even get Dragonglass? Unless that stash you lot found is enough for share in the thousands.”

You had been sat beside him, and as Jon turned to look at you, you gave a slight nod. He knew exactly as you knew now, and you didn’t prefer taking over the meeting from his voice. Turning back to the people, he was a bit more hesitant knowing the cost to come.

Gesturing to you for a brief moment, “The island of Dragonstone is build on top of a massive deposit of Dragonglass, there are tunnels all over the underground that are filled with more then enough to arm every man, woman, and child in the North. We’ll need men with skills mining, carve out tunnels to access it properly and we bring it back North.”

Lord Wyman Manderly spoke up from his place, “So we need ships, and men to mine. And it just so happens, your grace, we have both.”

A warmth in Jon’s tone with a nod, “Your enthusiasm is much appreciated my lord, but this isn’t going to be that simple.” His tone was rougher, lower, and a warning encased in it’s edge that all understood something was coming more then they thought. “We just recently have received word that Dragonstone is being occupied by a Southern Army. One led by a man using his place there to make his claim as heir to the Iron Throne, who won’t be too happy with what we’re about to ask.”

He was quiet, and you knew you had to be the one to say it. Palms braced against the wooden surface, you almost found no ability to even take a deep breathe as you look to them all. Glancing to Jon, and only for a split second did you find a soothing ease in the assurance in his grey eyes. Taking a deeper breathe you stood properly beside him.

Jon himself, tried very hard to ignore how it felt watching you speak with such confident but calming authority to his people, all with his own white furs gently draped over your own shoulders.

“Whether who he is saying he is, is true or not, Dragonstone is being occupied by a man claiming to be Aegon Targaryean.” Whispers this time flew through the Northern Lords like a breeze blowing in the air but with words in disbelief. “The army at his side is made up of the Golden Company, meaning if they deny a truce, we will be fighting our way onto the island. Lord Wyman, how many ships do you have currently?”

“Publically? Twenty three.”

You found a bit of a smirk his way, raising one eyebrow in jest, “And not publically?”

“Sixty. Most of which I can have fitted to sail for war by the new moon.”

You nodded, knowing Jon was letting you do some of this knowing your understanding of Dragonstone outweighed almost all in the hall. “Our biggest problem will be getting onto the island itself. The castle faces out to the Narrow Sea but most of the island is surrounded by rocks and mountain sides. There’s a small gap that leads to the beaches and from there we have two ways to the castle. One going the long away, following a long path up to the cliff side, and the other up scaling along the curtain itself and coming up behind them. As long as we get through that gap, we can surround them. But we will need enough manpower to get our feet on the ground in the first place.”

The lands were complicated, more complicated then many would think. All of you would have to be in on a very detailed plan if it were to work. It was an unforgiving terrain for those not familiar with it.

Hard to gauge everyone’s reactions at once, but it seemed that most in the hall truly understood what was to come. Understood that as Jon spoke, it didn’t matter what personal matters were felt on the matter, it was about doing what needed to be done. “Stannis Baratheon has a fleet of at least sixty of his own garrisoned at Eastwatch by the sea. He knows the kind of fight we are up against, and he knows why we need Dragonstone. If we add his ships to yours Lord Wyman, then we have a fighting chance.”

Lord Dustin seemed to stand with protest, one that was not quite welcome in the air. “We denied him as our King-”

Jon though, was strict. His voice commanding against the man and were it to be seen, would have almost pushed him back in his spot. “I’m not joining to make him our King.” Looking to Tormund in the distance, the man finding a smirk as he looked up to Jon’s words. “I’m not King of the free folk, but if we’re going to survive this winter together then we need to learn to fight side by side without arguing about joining one side or another. The North is our home, and you chose me as your King. That isn’t changing just because we ally with another King for the only cause that matters.”

Tormund’s own voice was full of an amusement that radiated through the other Lords. “If my people can follow him,” gesturing to where Jon stood, “without kneeling down to him then all of us together can teach the same lesson to this Southerner, whether he likes it or not.”

Agreement’s rumbled, and Lord Dustin sat with nothing more on the subject in his mouth. Lord Wyman took that mantle up, “I can send a raven to Eastwatch by the sea, see if the man’s willing to see reason. That way we have our ships all in once place if he agrees to meet with ours in White Harbour.”

One proper benefit of Jon being King, was that you could slip away amongst the crowds around him once the meeting had dispensed. Lord Wyman already leaving for White Harbour, giving at least some hope this would not be a fruitless endeavour.

The snow surrounding it was indescribable. A blanket of white that laid undisturbed against the ground, and a barley there reflection against water asking to freeze over soon. The Weirwood stood somehow taller then you remembered, the red was so bright and outstanding against the winter around it. Red leaves that bled in colour moving down to a white bark that blended so well. As if the face and the leaves were the only thing in the land that wasn’t snow.

Once upon a time, you had been scared to come here. The old gods had little rules and your small mind didn’t understand what you were supposed to follow. Fearing the Seven would punish you for praying in a sept so close to where the Northerns sat under a bleeding face carved into a Weirwood. But the last time you were here was nothing of the sort.

It looked nothing like that day. The warmth, the green all around and the water shining against what sun peeked through the other trees in the godswood. Right up there, he stood. The panic swirling in your veins as Ned Stark comforted you with every care of a father, bringing you out to his son as you found a life with him. The face you had once as a child been scared to look at, had been something you lifted your eyes too, finishing a prayer in silence asking to find a love that was genuine and true with Robb.

The old gods answered. They gave you that. But now, as you stood feet away from it, the winter finally making it’s way around the lands and threats coming you never could have conceived in those days impending on you. What would you even say to them this time, was there even a word you could pray which would matter? You had not the bravery to go any closer.

Not the strength alone to disturb the untouched beauty around the Weirwood as if this was a place you had a right to pray in. A sept still stood, but you also were fairly certain the Seven might just open a hole in the ground and damn you to a vision of hell for how little you held to just one. The Seven, the Old Gods, and the whispers under a fire god that your own family had taken up with in eithers place.

What did give you bravery, or force it on you, was being knocked in the back by something large. You stumbled forward just a tad as you turned around with a narrowed glare until you came upon the sight of something just as white and red as the tree itself. Ghost stood tall behind you, his fur blending with the snow around him with eyes red as if they matched the Weirwood’s leaves shining in the colourless surrounding.

A little huff in the direwolf came out as he looked at you before bumping you almost childishly once more. Truly the fact that this was a great beast almost was a joke. Running his head along your side as he did so, and his eyes shutting with a slight pant as you ran your nails along his head and around his ears. Looking back up eventually, he stared at you in silence but the same affection in his face. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

Ghost followed by your side as you approached. The water just reflecting enough that you could see the red wavering in the slightest of breezes around. Pulling the fur tighter around your front as a shiver left your mouth, cold enough you breathe fogged the space it touched. Each step you took as you finally came under the branches, you felt out of place in your mind even though something settled in your heart.

Prayers, words, steps, rituals, rules to be followed came every part of the way under the Seven and sometimes you felt lost here. Not knowing what you should say or do, when every part of faith in childhood had told you to be detailed and specific in every word and prayer uttered. But that wasn’t what was asked of you here.

A gloved hand carefully tracing your fingertips down the trunk beside the carved face as your eyes looked up wide and bright as a peek of sunlight shined down just enough to send slivers of light across the snowy ground. Ghost stood beside you, watching you and around as he looked like a wolf which came right from the roots of the tree. Carved into the bark and came to life, only it’s red leaves only found a spot in his eyes. Open wide at all times, seeing any and everything unlike the carved faces with eyes always closed.

Something was warmer in your chest, recognizing an aura of this place that found peace while your logic told you this wasn’t enough for the gods. You needed to repent, offer gifts and sacrifice, plead of punishment to rectify your sins. You had no idea what you were supposed to believe.

It took a while to convince yourself it was alright to sit down. Gently brushing snow from your way to sit, facing the water as Ghost stepped beside you. Looking at him with a tilt in your head you smiled, “This time I actually do know what you want, but I assure you there is no chance of you curling up on my lap.”

As if he knew exactly what you said, which he probably did, Ghost gave a whine before huffing. Settling beside you as his head sat down against your thighs, your hand naturally giving itself a home to run across his fur. Watching him in silence, the time passed as the day grew colder and colder. Not having gone back after such an early morning to dress any warmer then this, you just let the cold sit around you.

Just like last time, you didn’t see or hear him coming until he already spoke. “It would be easier to scold you for not dressing properly, if you didn’t look so beautiful.”

You and Ghost both turning your heads to see Jon approaching. Him naturally, finding it no kind of difficult to come right up. This was his home, and they were his gods. What of it would there be to keep him away. On the other hand, there was a simplicity of your own the way in which you spent no notice admiring him.

Clearly dressed warmer, more layers and leathers then what you had in merely a dress and fur around your shoulders. The fur sitting around him doing a better job even more, at keeping him that warm against the breeze. His hair was down more it seemed in his own home, sitting loose and wild almost making you smile. Jon could tell the way you didn’t realize you were staring, but only settled down right beside you.

Unlike the last though, Jon spared no time and took the liberty to pull you more into his side, arm wrapped around you to trace up your waist. Ghost settled once more against you, the moving position allowing him to better lay down with his head in your thighs against the uneven land. Your tone was soft as it murmured out looking over him so close, “I think it’s just your clothes you enjoy on me.”

It could’ve broken your heart if it didn’t feel so normal. How Jon’s gloved hand danced up to run along your neck before pulling you over to kiss the top of your head, stretching his thumb to run along your cheek as you leaned the other more against him. His chuckle was deep, vibrating somewhat against you. “I promise you, it’s both.”

Nodding against him, you weren’t tired in your mind, just in muscles as you barley got out in a clear tone, “When did our lives become so complicated?”

Once more, Jon’s hand slid down to your waist, as the other picked up your free one and lifted it up to rest over the leathers covering his heart. Your fingers dig slightly into the material as if trying to feel it beat under. Then tilting your chin up to look at him, grey eyes wide and full of a sparkling love that you could barley look into. “Our lives were always complicated, now it’s just going to take a little more to get out of it.”

You nodded once more. Keeping your attention occupied with the white direwolf on one side of you, and the white wolf with his arms keeping you against his side. Turning your head up, you met part of his neck and furs around him, slightly nuzzling into him before resting once more as he cupped the side of your head keeping you there. “You never let me say it back yesterday, that I love you.”

“I don’t need you to say it for me to know. I know you love me, we’ve always loved each other and we both always felt it.” He had resisted the urge to bury his face in your hair right away, but he wanted you to hear him properly. Sighing out gently, your eyes sliding closed as if to rest against him this way, Jon never let you go. A hand around to your waist, while the other reached over you both to cup your head against his neck, turning his face into your hair finally.

The cold gave you another shiver, catching Jon’s attention who pulled you back closer to his side, turned in place enough to watch your face closely. “When my father reaches White Harbour, I’m going to go meet with him. If we are to do this together, no one knows Dragonstone better then us. We can put a plan in place for when the rest of you show up. Figure out how we are going to get our feet onto the ground and the rest in your hands will be easy.”

His hold on you was tighter, a clench slightly in his jaw as he considered it. Quiet for a good moment before you gently murmured his name, finally he rasped out, “I’m trying to find a reason to make you stay that’s better then I don’t want you to go.”

You smiled a small bit at that, facing him better as well and the truth in his eyes wasn’t controlling or demanding. More like you were still those young children, you sick and unconscious in bed, and Jon was still afraid to keep his eyes off of you for too long. Tracing your hand along his jaw, you smiled much more as his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Your own voice was low in a whisper. “I’m only going to to White Harbour, I’m not leaving for war without you this time. Only ensuring everything is ready for you when you catch up. You could still order to me stay if you really want to however, you are King.”

Jon rolled his eyes that time. “I thought you Baratheon’s didn’t like being told what to do.”

The response on your lips only made Jon roll his eyes even harder that time with a much easier smirk on his face. Your shoulder shrugging with a flat, hardly concealed sass on your face. “I’m also a Stark now, and besides I think we both know that’s not quite true with me.”

Always a strange time when thoughts like it came up, but he couldn’t help once more but feel ashamed at how much he had once tried replacing you in his mind with Ygritte. You always trusted him, listened to him, and deep down would never go against something he said or did. Especially as a Queen by his side now, he knew you well enough to be certain you’d follow every command which would come out of his rule. He didn’t need that level of dedication to his word, but you didn’t do it out of obligation. You trusted him and his choices, just as he knew without having to ask, that you gave such dedication equally to Robb.

Whereas Ygritte almost hated the idea of not being so aggressively in charge at all times. Jon could look at you now, and he could almost hear the insults and degrading at how you were letting someone like Jon order you around. Would think you were weak to let him be the one in charge, to be the one you trusted to take care of you instead of demanding you do it yourself.

When in truth he knew you stood so firmly on your own effortlessly, and you listened to Jon when it mattered. This time however, his order wasn’t much of an order. But advice that no matter how difficult it would be for you in your heart, was for your own good. For your good and for Stannis as well. They had their disagreement’s, but Stannis was a man Jon respected in a lot of ways. He didn’t expect you to see it the same way, much like how you never expected Jon to have the same dynamic with his father that you had developed.

More reassured this time, finding only trust as you looked at him. “Go easy on him, your father. He knows as well as I do what we’re really up against out here, and he’s trying to do the right thing. You don’t have to forgive him, but hating him won’t make you feel any better.”

Nodding, you shifted once more, leaning your head against his shoulder as you both sat in the silence of the cold before the Weirwood. Only speaking up once more in a small, but amusingly confused tone in your ear. “Now I have to ask, is there a reason your mother keeps giving me that look?”

He didn’t expect you to laugh right away, but you certainty did. A waver in your voice failing to keep back how amusing you found it. “She’s not particularly a fan of you Northerners. Thinks you’re all unkempt, unruly, and unfitting for her daughter. That and I suspect she might know we sleep in the same bed, which she will entirely have judged you for allowing.”

The flat expression on his face was even funnier then the question he had just asked. “Probably shouldn’t tell her about what I did when I first woke up in Castle Black, then.” You flushed, looking away as if you both hadn’t come close to finding that harmony together again since. “If she’s that worried, strictly speaking, Northerners don’t actually many people there for us to get married. Could do it right now, put her poor mind at ease.”

“Somehow, I think it’s too late to save your honour in her eyes, Snow.”

Tones both in joking, but a small part of you and a large part of him knew that it wasn’t untrue. It wasn’t something neither had thought of outside that moment, but there was too much in your mind to make sense of that idea just yet. Too much in your life you couldn’t push back yet.

Jon to his own credit, at least could obsess over the idea quietly in his mind with no issue. He did though, lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Your own moulding to his in an instant, turning to gently move your hands to run up his collarbones and around the back of his neck. Hands finding the easy desire to run through his curls, nails scratching at his scalp as you did so. His free hand now cupping your cheek and jaw, tilting you up to stay against him as the one around your waist slid now to hold you tenderly at your hip.

Never picked up, never grew heated. Just a gentle kiss with more passion in his touch then innocent, but he only kissed and held you just as he was in that moment. Never pushed you for more, just the beg to not part from him just yet. He wasn’t ready to see you go yet, not here and not later. Not even ever, if he were being truthful.

“You should eat more.”

Finding the strength within you not to either roll your eyes or sigh out in annoyance. Her tone came off in a lecturing condescension when you knew she meant well. You had good intentions joining her for supper, she was going to be here for an unknown amount of time, she came all this way when she didn’t have too but it didn’t make being alone any easier.

You had barley made much of a dent in your food, and she had paid close attention to it. “You’re wasting away enough as it is. As long as it’s in front of you, you should at least eat.”

Taking a bite, likely in a more dramatic fashion then was mature but you did not come here to be scolded like a child. Giving a look to her as it to ask if that were satisfactory, she only raised an eyebrow before leaving the topic behind.

The fingertips of your free hand tapped at the table in her quarters, looking to the small amount she brought with her which could fit on her horse. “How long were you planning on staying?” Her features barley moved, but you caught a slight twitch in her jaw as she realized what you were looking at. “You didn’t bring much, am I assuming you’re returning to father when I leave for White Harbour?”

For all your doubts, she looked down. Tearing from watching your own gaze as she sighed. Your brows narrowed in confusion at her, but her voice was quiet as she explained. “Your father had only sent Ser Davos here, I was not thought to be sent at all. I came on my own.” You really gave a more confused look but you stayed silent. “You told me to stay with him because you thought I would find purpose with him, I would do better there.”

Your jaw clenched as did the words pushing out of your mouth. “You supported him over four years as your King. He’s your husband, I don’t see why you wouldn’t choose to stay at his side.”

Selyse wished you would look at her, but she understood why you didn’t. Your name coming softly from her mouth, “I have hardly been a mother to you. I pushed you away, and then never tried to reconcile that even after seeing the woman you had become without me. And I have no one to blame but myself for not being there.”

Your eyes flickered up to her somewhat, a doubt in them and your mind but there was a skip in your heart at finding no lies in her face. “It’s not your fault. I was young when you lost your first two, and by the time you were ready to be a mother again, you had Shireen. I never resented you for that, I understood by then I wasn’t putting the effort in either.”

The necklace sat heavy in your pocket, not yet having the bravery to put in on.

The quiet was tense, palpable enough it seeped into the food still sat on your plates. “You do, for what I did to her.” The weight in your throat plummeted down to your stomach and sent you feeling as if the floor beneath you would open up and trap you within it forever. “I was upset, I felt desperate and I thought I had none left and..I let her talk me into it. I can’t change that, I can’t ask you or anyone else to forgive me for it. That will always be my fault, and you should hate me for it.”

Voice but a whisper, you leaned your arms more crossed against the table. A somewhat ill mannered position at supper for you, but the weight of the her memory pushed you from sitting any kind of straight and proper. “Hating you won’t bring her back. Hating Roose Bolton never brought Robb back, so why would doing so feel better now.” There was a rare shine behind your mother’s eyes, one that seeped with sadness from a heart you rarely saw towards you. “I don’t quite know if I am ready in my heart to forgive you, but I don’t hate you. If you wouldn’t let me blame myself for her, I won’t blame you for letting that woman manipulate you into it.”

Your eyes met and for once neither looked away as there was a genuine honesty in her. “I will join you when you sail for Dragonstone, but when you leave, I will too.” Your brows narrowed as she cleared her throat slightly almost in an awkwardness. “I haven’t been a mother to you since you were a girl, so let me do it now. If you want me to leave I will, but if not, I came here for you. Not for war. For you.”

It was a heavy feeling that continued to get worse. The weight of a truth she hardly gave to you, and yet her eyes were sad warm as they were full of sorrow. You suspected, you looked at her with the very same. You never had a life where Selyse was properly in it, and having her there now was foreign. But, turning her away wasn’t the solution which felt right in your heart. It felt more cruel.

Jon had said you can’t get better if you never talk about her, and perhaps you needed to give your mother that chance. No matter how strange and uncomfortable it would be. She was still your mother, and she was trying. You only nodded though, throat too closed to work even after swallowing down the water in front of you.

There was a quiet as you pulled yourself together, sitting up properly and promptly wiping away the small water gathered by your eyes you didn’t notice before. As if humouring her, you took another bite before speaking. “I can have you moved to better quarters, something more suitable for you long term. I’ll also send for someone to get you some warmer things to wear. If I’m going to get lectured for not dressing properly for the winter, then you have to as well.”

Shaking her head slightly, “The room is fine, it will only be me. I don’t need much.”

You two were back to quiet for a good while, the silence not unobtrusive or awkward. You and Selyse tended to be the most quiet of all your family. Stannis was not much of a chatty man, but you certainly got your tendency to enjoy the silence from your mother. But there was one more thing she found the bravery to speak.

“She would have been proud. Your sister. Shireen would have been proud to see how far you’ve come.”

Not much thought came into it, as you pulled out the necklace, placing it gently between you both. A slight tear in your tone trying not to let any tears fall. “I kept a small part of her, what was left that night I mean. When we came here, I didn’t know if we would be able to win and I didn’t want any part of her near the Boltons so I gave what remained to her to Davos to keep safe. Told me he would bring her to visit himself if we won.”

You tilted your head as she hesitated to pick it up. There was nothing to see, and even if there was it was just greys and tints of white of bone which were scattered left. But she held it with all the same kind of care as you did those final moments with her in that room. Something close to tears in her own voice. “She did always speak of going on adventures with you.” Nodding you over, she stood from her seat holding the necklace. “Come here, he went through the trouble to have this made at least wear it like you’re supposed too.”

Her tone was stern, but not the glint in her eyes that matched.

You took your time, coming to stand by her, turning around as you pulled your hair out of her way so she could drape the necklace around your neck. Sitting just underneath the high seam of your dress she linked it together in the back. In a surprise, she moved your hair back into place, smoothing it out neatly all on her own before giving you space once more.

Looking down at it, before hiding it under the fabric. It wasn’t there to be shown off, it was there to keep her with you. Facing your mother once more both of you found little ability to speak. “Thank you.”

What you wished would stay quiet though, didn’t as some time later did she say the one thing that set your nerves off. Food long finished and taken away, now you both had been finding small things to speak on when she finally asked what you had dreaded. “Are you and that boy sleeping in the same bed?”

You pushed your chair back to try and stand, and Selyse called you back louder with more of a motherly scold in her tone that made you feel much like a child again for not listening too. “I’m not listening to this right now.”

“You two are not married, he shouldn’t be acting as if you are some tavern slut to keep his bed warm at night.” You tried protesting, your voice higher pitched and almost embarrassed as you looked back at her lecturing glare. “Being a King does not mean he can ignore protecting your honour-”

If it was possible to force yourself to melt into the floor and die on impact you would’ve done it right then and there just to avoid this conversation. “Mother, if you recall, I was married. I was pregnant even, I think I’ve long since passed the point of having any honour left to protect.”

She was silent and you absolutely felt like a child the way she was watching you. “Don’t tell me he’s-”

Turning towards the door, you walked away as your blood boiled in a horrific shame. “That will be all, mother. I wish you goodnight.” Selyse once more said your name in a lecturing tone but you took your quick leave as nothing but a red, warm embarrassment came over your cheeks and drenched itself into your mind.

It was lovely, being a grown woman through as much horror as you had experienced and yet the second she started speaking you could almost see yourself as the young teenage girl she used to have to give such lectures over before.

At least Maege had a very good laugh over it when you told her later that evening.

Preparing his entire life to take on this responsibility was one thing, but a completely different feeling now that he was being told more and more to act on it. He was to be King, so he had to make choices a King would make.

“You will be making decisions far harder then this everyday when you claim the Throne.”

He could grumble and sigh all he liked, but it was true. He wasn’t allowed to be Young Griff anymore, he was supposed to be Aegon. Supposed to be the rightful heir, the true leader of the Seven Kingdoms, son of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, and yet as soon as the raven came he looked to Griff like the boy he used to be.

Young Griff looking to his father to help guide him onto what’s the right path. Only, if he wasn’t Young Griff anymore, that meant Griff was no longer his father. He was once more Jon Connington, and they were no longer father and son training for a destiny far in their future. It was now, and he couldn’t be that boy anymore.

Being Aegon meant he had to find it in himself to take after Rhaegar. But no stories told of his blood father had felt connected to who he was in his soul. He had to be his father’s heir, but he wasn’t the one who spent his entire life raising him as his son. Rhaegar was his father, Jon Connington had been trusted to keep him safe, but it was Griff that raised him. This wasn’t going to be as easy as it once felt back when he was far from Westeros.

But now, as he read the raven over and over he was trying to ask himself what would Rhaegar expect of him, but came back up blank. He had no idea what he would do or say, and so he could only look at Connington and hope he understood his silent plea. Which he did.

Glancing subtly to the men around the room before moving to come close to Aegon’s side at the end of the painted table he lowered his voice, something more guileful in tone. “What does your first instinct tell you?”

His first instinct was to just let these people have what they wanted. What did he care about rocks and scary bed time tales? It didn’t change his ambition for the Throne. But he had the distinct impression that it wouldn’t be something Rhaegar would have chosen to do. Not from what he was told of him. So he had to find a new answer.

“If he’s calling himself a King, that means he assumes he has no duty to kneel to my rule.” A silence in the room waited for him to figure it out, Connington at his side waiting and watching with all the patience he suspected his blood father wouldn’t have given him. Turning to look at him with a more determined look in his eye, “I think if he wants what we have, he can ask for permission. After kneeling before me, and beg for forgiveness for keeping part of my own Kingdom from me.”

The men in the room looked approvingly at his fierce tone, stance broad as he braced his palms against the painted table. But when he glanced back to Connington, he wasn’t sure he was finding the same in his eyes, but whatever it was instead got covered up quickly.

“You are the King, the true heir to the Iron Throne. If this is your decision, then he can either bend the knee or pay the price. I can have Maester Pylos send a raven back right away if this is what you want.” He was calm and patient, the tone of Griff towards a younger, unsure, learning Young Griff.

But he had to be Aegon now. And Aegon’s father was not Jon Connington, his father was Rheagar Targaryean. Nodding once he looked him sure in the eyes. “There is only one true King, and it isn’t some pretender telling tall tales.” Young Griff didn’t like the choice he was about to make, but Aegon Targaryean would have too.

“This Jon Snow can either bend the knee like everyone else, or die fighting against it.”

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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meteormind · 1 year

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Bkdk on Ao3

Everyone: smut! Smut!! Smut!!! SMUT!!!

Everyone: fluff! Fluff!! Fluff!!! FLUFF!!!

Everyone [pounding table, impassioned]: ANGST! ANGST!! ANGST!!! ANGST!!!!

Me: what if i wrote a canon-remix exploring the evolution of bkdk's childhood dynamic over the course of 100k words

Everyone:

Someone: quirk accident where deku's dick gets bigger everytime bakugou compliments him

Everyone: OOOoooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOO

... all jokes aside, I really am writing a fic and am in need of beta readers (or just plain readers) if anyone is interested. It only has 5 chapters as of 4/05/23 but I'm updating every day this month for NaNoWriMo.

EDIT 4/09/23 : I have found betas! Thank you for the warm response.

Bkdk are kiddos in this fic (9 and 10, at least for now,) so no smut. But there will be fluff! Eventually! It's kind of at an angsty part right now. It's also canon-divergent in that Izuku has a quirk. (Sorry for any canon-verse purists.) If you were ever looking for a bkdk POV alternating, weak-to-strong fic, then please have a look. 💖

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, Midoriya Inko Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon Compliant, To a point, Pre-Canon to Canon, Worldbuilding, just a little, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Video Game Mechanics, author removes Deku's brakes, he wasn't using them anyway, Bakugou Katsuki Redemption, underline that three times, Bullying, Therapy, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Pre-Slash, for now, adding tags as I go, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Alternating Summary: Izuku's party blazed through the mobs, plucking tails as they went, competent and assured in a way he could never hope to be in reality. He wished, not for the first time, that he could live life like a game. He wanted to exist in a world where he was setup to win, for once. In such a world, he could carve out a place for himself between 1's and 0's. Even if he started with nothing, as long as he put in the time and effort, he was guaranteed a happily ever after. And if only people were as transparent as a string of code. If only they told him what they wanted in plain words. If only the path into someone's heart was marked with waypoints and rat tails. If only they would follow you through the windy wilds, battle at your side through storm and cloud, never turning their back on you as long as you watched theirs. --- In which Izuku gets a quirk and Katsuki learns as he loses.

#this is a joke not a criticism #i am included in all 3 parties #what if it shrinks when bakugou is mean #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbk #dekubaku #katsudeku #dekukatsu #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #ao3 #bkdk fanfic #this is my first fanfic #come at me #am I doing this right

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cookieshapedrat · 12 days

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What if figurines and plushes sitting on my mini table could befriend each other within their worlds? What if their worlds collided and they all became friends?

These were the questions I asked myself today while doodling in my sketchbook. A whole world created just for fun. A Smash Bros kind of world except without the fighting, just vibing. Well… For the most part anyways. Characters coming together that you would never expect. I mean, Luffy befriending a friendly little puppet Wally Darling and offering him his hat? Blaze the Cat becoming mesmerized by the whimsical power of the Prince of all Saiyans Vegeta? Yoshi giving a Toad a piggyback ride (although that was always a thing within their world, but still fun to experience for anyone friends with a Yoshi.)?

And with this small exploration of this imagination, there’s much more to be seen. More outlandish yet intriguing interactions to capture. For now I leave these here as a simple display of my many thoughts of these characters.

Wally has befriended most of the personalities found around the bedroom, Luffy likewise, and the Yoshi and Toad tend to keep to who they’re most comfortable with. Vegeta still struggles to make friends, but Wally seems to be rather warm towards him. For what reason, it’s uncertain. Potentially the puppet is simply made to be that way. Filled with too much love to keep to himself. Luffy finds himself feeling like he’s right at home with Vegeta by his side. He actually reminds him a lot of a swordsman he knows back in his world. Spending time around him is like he never left the seas. Yoshi and Toad are simply too intimidated by the prince’s presence to get too close, however. They never seem to grow out of this, but they’ve grown to become at least trusting after some time. Blaze, on the other hand, likes that there’s another royal she can relate with. Although Vegeta is distant, she doesn’t mind it too much. He answers just about enough questions to keep her curiosities tamed, and he’s reserved just enough to be of a relaxing presence to be around. Intimidating yet calming, in a strange sense. She only wishes that Silver was here to meet everyone too… Sonic was supposed to be here but… Wait a second. Where is Sonic? Oh, never mind that. He’s most likely fine. Out doing his usual thing, she assumes.

#crossover fanart #welcome home #one piece #dragon ball #sonic the hedgehog #super mario #wally darling #straw hat luffy #prince vegeta #blaze the cat #yoshi #mario toad #art #traditional art #my art #sketchbook #sketches #fanart

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lacrymatoryao3 · 6 days

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First Time for Everything

One Shot Smut with Little Plot

Charles and Arthur awkwardly explore each other. Still working on my main fic, but also am on a Charthur jag.

1,557 Words (AO3 Link)

They needed somewhere private, but not in Saint Denis or even Rhodes. Those were still too close to Shady Belle and would risk the rest of the gang hearing rumors from locals. After hushed private discussions, they agreed to make a return to Valentine under the guise of having a robbery lead. Charles was the one to ride in first to get a room at the hotel. He wasn’t there during the shootout with Cornwall’s men, so the owner wouldn’t cause a commotion with him like he probably would with Arthur.

Arthur waited outside the town, on the side of an infrequently used trail that led to the Dakota River. He smoked two, maybe three cigarettes in a row to calm himself with his binoculars on the side of the hotel waiting for Charles’s sign from the window. As the sun set it arrived. From the upper floor in the room the owner always seemed to put people in, he saw the curtains be pulled back to block out the view of the street below.

He urged his horse forward and into Valentine. He pulled his hat down to make it harder to see his face, hoping no one remembered the great black Shire he was sitting upon. He hitched him beside Taima in front of the hotel and walked to the side of the building where there was an outside staircase to the top floor that avoided the lobby all together. Once he was in the hall the door to the room was on his immediate left. He took off his had and smoothed out his ash brown hair, taking a deep breath and lightly knocking on the door.

Charles answered with his long black hair still damp from his bath. No wonder he took so long. He put on fresher clothes, different from the weathered light blue with white dotted shirt he wore during the long and dusty ride, an outfit he started wearing when they arrived in the South. The one with the black trousers, a faded burgundy red overshirt that he only fastened at one bottom button, and a tanned leather vest that was embroidered with small colored beads in a tribal pattern in strips on both sides down the front.

Arthur just stood there, staring at the man in front of him as if he turned him into stone. He could only utter a strained and nervous “hey”.

“Hey,” Charles replied, a soft and equally clumsy smile breaking from his plump lips, “You, uh, should probably come in.”

Arthur nodded, hastily stepping over the threshold so Charles could close the door. He took off his hat and set it on a wooden chair next to a large standing mirror in the corner of the dimly lit room. His ragged satchel joined it, but not before he went into it and produced an unopened bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.

“I… Brought somethin’ for us.” Arthur said, waving the bottle to Charles.

Arthur opened the bottle and took a sip. The burn calmed the fluttering he had in his stomach, though his heart was still racing. He handed it to Charles, who also took one. They passed it back and forth until there was nothing left.

Charles set the bottle on the mantle of the fireplace. The flames caught his figure and created a blazing halo around his wide, strong, and athletic body. A golden glow washed over his dark skin. Despite having little belief in them, Arthur felt like he was looking upon an angel. His doubts possessed him like ghosts manifesting from the shadows. His heart began to race and get caught in his throat.

What if he embarrasses himself somehow? Neither of them knew what they were about to do. He had only been with women and he couldn’t even remember the last time – 5 years at least. In the world they lived in, two men lying together in the same way was seen as unnatural… An abomination to those religious type of fools.

Another thing was Arthur didn’t see himself anywhere near attractive. When he looked in the mirror all he saw was scars, blemishes where the sun he was almost always under kissed his skin, his crooked nose and chipped teeth from so many brawls, lines that set his scowls into the flesh, he still saw the stains of blood that he shed despite them being long washed away. If it came to that, would Charles even still be attracted to him when he shed his clothes?

It was only a moment that felt like an eternity, with both feeling apprehension and doubt, before Charles returned to him.

“You ready?” Charles asked, more bashfully than Arthur had ever heard from him.

“Yeah…” Arthur responded, “If you are, anyway. We don’t got to if you ain’t.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” Charles assured him, resting his large and shaky hands on Arthur’s waist. He pulled him closer, until their chests were crushed and they both could feel their pounding hearts.

Arthur nodded and breathed, “If you change your mind at any point durin’ this, tell me and we can stop…”

The air became thick as they gazed into each other’s eyes, their minds letting go of any preconceived notions they were taught by the world. Instinctually, their faces grew closer. At first their lips traced, savoring the sensation and heat of their breaths and bodies, until they pressed together. They tried to go slow, soft, building up the flame. It didn’t last very long. Arthur took Charles’s face in his hands, his thumb tracing the large scar that snaked along the right side of his face, kissing harder. He slipped his tongue into Charles’s mouth. He grasped Arthur tighter, greeting him with his own. Their faces burned with a hunger and passion neither of them expected to experience with another man.

With eager hands, Charles gently took hold of the kerchief around Arthur’s neck. He untied the knot and pulled it away, dropping it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his broad chest. Arthur let out a low grown as he felt Charles’s rough, calloused hands explore his hair covered flesh.

“I’ve always been jealous of you for this…” Charles muttered, circling the bare halo around Arthur’s nipples.

Arthur chuckled, his face and ears turning a bright red, “Ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

They became emboldened enough to fully undress and joined each other in the bed. In Arthur’s arms Charles felt so warm, his plush skin hiding the hard and well sculpted muscle underneath. It excited him more than he expected, his cock beginning to pulse as it swelled. He refrained from touching it, focusing on Charles instead. He pressed his mouth to an area behind his ear, working downward to his neck.

Charles never experienced such tenderness, such attentiveness to the most sensitive areas on his body. His breathing increased, Arthur’s coarse fingers messaging his breast. His head tilted back for a moment, his throat letting out a soft yet high pitched moan. The ache was becoming too intense to ignore. He reached down, taking hold of his own cock and started to slowly stroke it. He looked down and saw how hard they both were. Arthur’s was slightly longer, but incredibly thick. The skin was pulled taught away from head, which was almost purple at the edges. From the tip, a clear fluid wept in long tears that dropped onto the bedspread. Charles took one of Arthur’s hands, leading it downward to replace his own. In return he took Arthur’s. He looked deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, pupils blown in lust.

Charles filled Arthur’s hand. With each movement his shaft throbbed, eliciting a sigh or grunt from the man it was attached to. Christ… It was the most foreign and erotic thing Arthur encountered. It wasn’t enough. He took Charles’s ass and pulled him closer, until their sensitive members brushed. Arthur couldn’t close his fingers around them both. Their hips moved in rhythm, spreading Arthur’s precum until it covered their cocks and they slid against each other with ease.

Words became rendered useless. The only thing Arthur muttered between the two men’s moans was an often unused ‘fuck’.

Charles started to buck more in his grasp, panting with beads of sweat on his brow. His cock was constantly twitching, begging, desperate.

“Arthur…” Charles gasped, “Arthur, I’m going to-”

“Come for me, Charles. Let it go.” Arthur whispered. He was dangerously close too, fighting to keep it before he was ready.

A few more aggressive thrusts, then Charles tensed. His cock erupted, his seed splattering both of their stomachs. It was joined soon after by Arthur’s. He shook, riding the intensity of their orgasms until they were spent. Arthur let go, rolling onto his back and huffing to catch his breath.

They laid in a stupor for some time, paralyzed by blissful relief. Arthur got up to fetch the towel hanging off the washing stand. He wiped Charles off first before himself, throwing it across the room. He opened his arms and Charles rolled over to rest his head on Arthur’s chest, the two embracing.

“What did we tell Dutch we were goin’ out for?” Arthur asked drifting off into sleep.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Charles replied with a soft and tired laugh.

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reilliane · 2 years

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✤ — Universe: Sister! ✤ — Concept: The twin travelers Aether and Lumine lament over the loss of their older sibling following their argument and the destruction of their homeland. Little did they know who awaits their presence in the realm of the Abyss. ✤ — Characters: Aether & Lumine (platonic), Paimon, Diluc, Kaeya, Dainsleif A/N: Look at what's finally out of the prison called my drafts lmao- Dishing out some delicious plate of sibling angst. Behold, (Sister)AbyssLeader!MC. Ah yes, Aether & Lumine need hugs, they're terribly sad. Now, let's explore a common misunderstanding between siblings :))

“Please just reconcile already.”

It's quiet—a poignant sound that demands to be heard through the dissonance. And it's heard.

“... Pardon?”

The clash of fiery bellows and icy roars meets again only to melt and vaporize in the wind. Silence is all that ensues until eyes start turning.

In the dead of the night, in a tavern now holding a few people in its belligerent-turned atmosphere, something breaks; patience.

There is a small, tentative voice. Shaken with understanding.

“Lumine-”

“Make up already! You shouldn't-” the blonde in question blinks as if she's trying to keep something at bay, “Siblings shouldn't fight. You'll regret it so please,”

The air is cold.

“Before it's too late... you need to get along.”

No one says a thing. They allow the gravity—the truth in her words to sink in.

But the female Traveler can no longer stand the idea of being in the same room with another pair of siblings who refuse to meet eye to eye.

It's far too similar, far too much in essence that she's the one that's hurting for their sake. So she leaves in a hurry, a sight to behold for a Traveler that's known to be composed.

Her twin brother follows without any ounce of hesitance.

The door shuts, leaving two men to ponder over their blazing glares and frigid tones that have now dissipated in an uneasy silence.

No one is awake on the eve of midnight to witness the Honorary Knights depart with faces contorted into emotions deemed impossible for them to even feature.

Their steps are heavy as they carried themselves past the gates of Mondstadt; a jolly city that isn't so jolly to them anymore.

What hangs in the air—a tension of their own—isn't addressed until their feet have crossed the threshold bridging Mondstat to the crossroads.

“I know what you're going to say, Aether, don't. I just can't help it, okay?”

They shy away from the blue moon and its light, heading towards the canopy of shades provided by the great tree in Windrise. The moon is too stark of a reminder that pains them still.

“Master Diluc... and Captain Kaeya,” two siblings whose bond fell out in their passing years, the same pair they've seen fighting just a while ago, “In the end, all they'll have is each other. If they keep fighting, then... a time will come..”

“You are my younger siblings, it's my responsibility to look after you.” “Don't be hasty, you two.”

“When they will regret it.”

“Were you two world-hopping again? How many times do I have to say that you should at least tell me? It's just the three of us.” “I can't bear to imagine a world without you two.”

Lumine allows herself to fall by the roots of the tree, the swaying of the tall grass reminiscent of the loving caress on her person.

Her throat starts to burn, “And- and..”

“It'd be too late.” Aether completes in his twin's stead, voice profuse with dolor.

Too late.

Two simple words with a meaning so irreversible, a weight too heavy to bear that it will capsize the mightiest of ships and collapse the strongest of towers.

This eventide is the famed and glorified Travelers' own descent into their void of great travail.

What's witnessed to be as firm as a primordial rock, as composed as the still waters, breaks with a small crevice on their form. At long last.

“She was crying, Aether. [Name] never cries, but-” her hands are trembling, unsure what to do with them until she settles for clasping them, “But our homeworld fissured before she can get to us.”

Warmth swarms them—and it's far from being the comforting kind. It is evocative of a time of old, of a time when a world burns.

The siblings hate how centuries—maybe even a millennium now—have already elapsed and still, the sweltering heat of the flames can be felt.

“We were consumed by the flames but we were still able to flee. [Name] didn't know that-”

“You don't know if that's true.”

“She didn't know that we survived! She saw us plummet and she was trying to get to us but we were already transported before she could!” her rising voice astounds her brother, “She probably thought we're still there.. probably stayed behind so she can look for us- she could've perished and-!”

A hand lands upon her shoulder, without a doubt to try and stabilize whatever rationality, sense, and composure is left.

“Lumine, calm down."

Yet even Aether is far from being composed if his shaky hand is anything to go by. Still, his gesture is appreciated, and his sibling mellows out her hysterics to tiny stammers.

It's a painful sight to see; Lumine caving in on herself, trying not to let the tremors seize full control as it did with her brother. Someone needs to- someone needs to have a clear head between them.

Though that's easier said than done.

“It's just that- I- we-”

And the high from emotions suppressed due to the sudden thrust into a different world, the fresh wound of an argument that can't be taken back, they have already made itself known.

The cracks are there and it's too late to hinder it. Now they're breaking.

And they're breaking apart.

“All she ever wanted was to protect us. Do you really think that [Name] would leave after not seeing us flee first?”

“Just tell me if you're leaving, is that so hard to do? I'm not belittling either of you.”

The same old misunderstanding, how many times have they gone over this?

Aether released a sharp, clipped exhale. He then lifts his eyes to stare upon the slightly larger form of his older sibling, her enormous wings, grander and mightier... and the powerful nimbus exuding off of her.

“Then why do you have to be there in each of our battles? If you could just let us finish, you would see how perfectly capable we are on our own.” it isn't a lie, after all, they were her 'students', too.

[Name] only blinks, face passive, seemingly indifferent. “I worry.”

Worry? The twins try not to think much of their sister's blank visage.

Try not to think that her concern is superficial and exists only for show—that in fact, she does not feel anything. Because they know that [Name] has always been a feeling kind of individual.

Underneath that front of blankness lies a person who feels too much- loves too much for them. Baring those emotions for everyone to see just never has been, well, '[Name]'.

“That's the thing! You worry too much!” Aether bursts, failing to ensure his sangfroid.

There is a gentle tug on his cape, succeeded with a whisper of his name and a 'calm yourself', and he sighs. That second, there is an attempt to assuage his thinning patience before the argument turns uglier than necessary.

But that's almost impossible.

“You're my little siblings. I want to keep you safe, cooperate with me, why don't you?” it's a gentle thing to say, delivered just as gently.

But the aggro that's been accumulating for plenty of years distorts how they perceive such benignity.

Gone is the loving sister they're so fond of, and in her stead is a being with the same face carrying a semblance of care. Such is how their psyche, suffused with spite, warps a supposedly pleasant image into a mockery.

The twins share a look before nodding, their wings lifting them off the ground with the intention to venture past their world once more.

[Name] tenses, blank face displaying a small crevice that leaks alarm as she asks where they're going.

“Far from home for now... just to, to compose ourselves.”

“I don't think you should leave,” her voice is evident with dread, “Lately something's amiss with-”

Lumine sighs, “See, [Name], this is why we don't tell you... you refuse to let us leave.”

A beat of silence.

Did it really come off like that? [Name] swallows with a blink of her golden eyes. I had no intention to... I only ever wanted to know where they're going, it's...

Not knowing where her siblings are is what shakes her to the core.

She lowers her head, the epiphany dawning like the sun, “I... My apologies. I'm sorry.”

“We'll come back,” Aether assures her, though his voice does little to conceal his desire to satiate his wanderlust.

“Don't leave... Aether, Lumine.”

There is a fissure in [Name]'s visage, showing concern and fear upon hearing those words. But her siblings are no longer there to see it.

The twins traveled far and beyond as they dreamt of, only flying to their homeworld after a set time to fulfill their promise of return.

But the world they come back into is no longer the world they left from.

Crimson paints the sky, bleeding with rain that fails to quell the raging inferno. Voices ring in a babel—a chorus singing a requiem in the crumbling, burning earth.

They have no time to wonder why everything's falling apart. There is only one objective. Where, where is—

“Lumine! Aether! Where are you?!”

It's a voice so uncharacteristically profuse with panic that has them veering their eyes from left to right. But the smog hinders their sights, the most they can do is to try and swerve away from equally distressed people who are in the middle of fleeing.

Aether flies through the haze with his twin following behind, hissing at the heat of the enormous flames.

There's another call of his name, nearer than before, and he turns to change course—but someone collides against him. Immediately, his balance is tipped and he's falling in the banquet of flames.

Lumine reaches for him with a yell, their bodies cloaking with a golden light as they descend further into the scorching element.

It's meant to be blazing hot, and they really would've burned if not for the sheltering gold that takes care in preparing to transport them to a faraway world. To safety.

But then [Name] appears just above the flickering tips of the conflagration, features contorted in horror as she continues her cries of their names.

Lumine gasps, reaching out her hand, “[Name]!”

But by the time their older sibling turns down, golden eyes dilating, the flames ravage the twins whole and they're nowhere to be seen.

“I miss her so much, Aether, it hurts.”

Rivers spill from both eyes and neither has any intent to stop them.

“We couldn't even- we couldn't even apologize.”

Although they are here side by side, together, they are incomplete; they're meant to be a family of three.

“She might be gone now and I hate to think that our last memory together was us fighting.”

Not two.

Lumine fidgets with her hands, unsure what to do with their tremors. She wonders if she should just hide her face in them, or clench them in a semblance of fortitude.

Doing neither, she opts to just clasp and wring her fingers together in an otiose assay to mimic her sister's firm yet gentle hold on it.

She swallows, voice tight, “We don't even have anything in her memory.”

Aether's chest squeezes in remorse as his remaining sibling takes to leaning on his shoulder. He deems it strange to suddenly be the pillar of comfort, a role that's once suited for his older sister.

“I miss [Name], too,” his voice is barely audible on purpose, afraid that it'll waver if it gets any louder, “I'm just as guilty as you are. But she won't like it if we're to keep this up... we need to be strong.”

That indeed is true.

“I'm sure that... she would like us to be that way.”

An older sibling wishes for nothing but the strength of their younger kin; strength to overcome hurdles, to keep their chins up, and to keep on living.

But when adversity comes that threatens one's mettle... when a situation is tailored to enervate you, strength and weakness come to play.

When at its face, which will reign supreme? Vigor or frailty?

Will you fortify—

The Abyss Herald falters under the might of the golden suns, its cursed life a mere second away from snapping into nothingness.

But before it can proceed, there's a swift blur of [c].

—Or will you crumble?

An arching sweep glimmering with stars cuts through the fracas of navy and marigold, deflecting the onslaught of attacks in an easy strike.

The twins skid far back in the violet-tinted site raging with abyssal energy, ears picking up on their recently acquired companion—Dainsleif—and his sharp demand of 'wait'. Followed by a name.

A familiar name that has them stilling.

Dainsleif vanishes into the portal—without care for the Herald—before the Travelers can see who he's chasing, and the portal closes behind him.

They reach an answer implying that his chase is all for naught, though, because whoever he's chasing has no intentions to be caught. And whoever that is is coming back.

No openings are visible until a second later, when a fissure breaks through reality and out saunters a figure whose direction is towards the inverted statue.

“King...” murmurs the abyssal creature.

The title, though perfectly heard, is not paid any attention. No, the siblings focus on the lone figure upon the demolished steps leading towards the forgotten statue.

Aureate eyes widen and settle upon the distant figure of a woman. The same person being lamented over since the twins' arrival in Teyvat.

Despite being sequined in violet and gold, despite being cloaked in the stars... there is no mistaking those [c] tresses. Nor the aura she carries with each step.

Can it be?

“[N]-” Lumine starts, her voice tiny, “[Name]... ? Is that really you?”

A question breathed in a whisper so hushed, yet, it is not unheard.

[Name] looks just as surprised as they are, though her reaction is much more mellow and composed—as if she's considered the thought of them being alive and has clung to that chance.

“Aether... Lumine,” her voice is uncharacteristically soft, opposing the rigidity of her features. “You're alive.”

But underneath that firm layer of coldness, the younger siblings know—they feel the relief. The mutual happiness.

Such can be seen in the glossing of [Name]'s golden eyes, the only similar feature she has with the two.

Hearing their respective names be called out for so long—after long, long centuries spent in unconscious grief—all but beckons the twins' eyes to water.

Sister... !

“We- we are!” Lumine, the first to snap out of her trance, steps forward with a trembling smile.

She cannot believe this- this miracle.

“We're safe. And- and we're complete!” she grabs Aether's hand in hers to add emphasis on the fact that they're all in one place.

Together. Like they used to.

As a family of three.

The blond reaches her hand out in invitation, “Come, let's—”

But maybe that's just wishful thinking.

The unexplained aversion of eyes and the slight change of direction to face the abyssal portal makes Lumine pause her words and drop her hand.

Something does not bode well.

Fraught with dread—and the desire not to ascertain the answer but alas must be done—the air grows colder.

Aether is the next one to step forward, having caught the appearance of a frosty expression on his older sister's face. It's so foreign, so unlike her, so different from the warm fondness on her otherwise blank visage.

What's wrong?

“[Name]?” he does not notice how afraid he sounded.

His approach has not heeded any mind, though, because [Name] is not batting an eye towards him—at them—at all. Instead, she is strolling to the open portal being looked over by the Herald.

She's not looking at them. She's not doing anything- she's-

Leaving?

Their other traveling companion—a sad thing to note that they've forgotten Paimon's presence—shrieks in fluster when Aether bounces to a sprint, hand outreached.

“[Name]-!”

The woman in question slinks to the side, eyes glazed over with a shadow that presages a warning.

Spears of glittering gold rain from above like judgements of the divine, falling around the twins in a circle. A cage.

They've seen it a hundred times, having known their sister's mode of fighting throughout their life. But something is amiss with these spears, they aren't as... gentle as usual.

For even if [Name] seeks to encase someone, she assures that nothing can harm them. Despite having a prisoner, she does not spill their blood in their cages, not until necessary.

But when Lumine seizes hold of the spears, she cries out at the deep, cutting sensation upon her palms. She starts to tremble in her endeavors of searching for the reason why, but [Name]'s eyes remain blank and cold.

It is then apparent that the woman has no plan to let her siblings go after her. Much like what she'd done to Dainsleif.

Which sets a fine line—a division, a rift between them. When supposedly, there should be nothing.

There have always been no such partitions between them, regardless of the mires and disputes. In the end, the three of them never fail to look past it.

“Why are you doing this?” Lumine whispers, voice strained, tinged with disbelief. Why are you turning us away?

Her hands remain motionless at her side, unsure what to do with them now that she can't grasp onto the spears lest she's wounded further.

[Name] blinks once, then turns away. Her eyes still encompass that faraway look, too distant as if she's locked in a time so long ago.

Then with a monotonous voice, she answers, “... To save.”

The twins go still. Save?

“The both of you are in no condition to be with me. Only after you have completed your journey will you understand.”

This particular statement flies by their heads, far too wrapped around the answer 'to save'. To save who? What?

Is it because they turned away from her wishes to keep them safe, that she decided to go astray and fixate on saving someone else?

“Wait- where are you going?!” Aether fusses with wide eyes, seeing the older one of the three beginning to enter the portal.

“Don't leave us-!”

“Where are you going?”

Is it because they couldn't apologize? Because they took her warning for granted?

Lumine makes a quick observation of her cage of golden spears, trying to find a way out, but no such thing is present. She's resigned to striking them with her sword, but it does nothing.

There's no time to think. No time to do anything.

[Name] is leaving and they don't know when they'll see her again, or if they ever will and it's terrifying to imagine.

Is this what she felt?

Lumine is almost powerless, what with her shaking knees. She's afraid, she's too afraid.

In their time in Teyvat, they come to know that it isn't any light-hearted world they know. Teyvat is a dark, dark world shrouded with false, feathery happiness.

[Name] being far too deep in verboten matters of this world entails risks, risks that may cost her life and they can't bear to imagine-

Strewn pride aside, Lumine shouts, “Take us with you! Sister!”

“Don't leave... Aether, Lumine.”

Chagrined, [Name] shakes her head. The distress in her siblings' voices fails to sway her resolve. Not to say that it would in the first place.

The fact is castrating to the twins, who grow cold at this epiphany.

Their hopes of seeing [Name] crumble into resignation dissipates when they realize that she only looks exasperated.

“Until the time to reunite comes, this is our farewell.” she says, only gracing them with one last look before resuming her amble towards the portal.

No. The thought rings through both of the twins' minds.

Reduced to mere whispers, Aether clenches the fabric of his pants, knuckles white as his hurting throat sounds out pleas.

“We're sorry... please, we just saw each other again, don't do this.”

Five hundred years apart, clasping on nothing but the memory of an argument that tore them asunder, their desperation is understandable.

But even their sorries do not touch [Name]'s heart.

When this is again realized, the fear in their chests intensifies.

“Wait.” Lumine murmurs, heart racing. “Don't...”

The Herald bows as its leader passes by, chin held high, unbothered, indifferent—uncaring.

Seeing it ripples the twins with such dread and desperation. They can't believe- they can't believe this.

It's so hypocritical to feel this fear when they too, often left their sister behind bearing the same insouciance. But they feel the fear, feel the horror, and the hysteria—because people only ever feel these when they are the ones playing the tragic role.

Vision befogged with mist, eyes stinging with water, Aether grits his teeth and grabs ahold of the spears.

Pain blossoms in his palms and blood begin to trickle, but that pain is little compared to seeing someone leave.

Turn around. He pleads, but no god hears his pleas.

“We can handle ourselves just fine, [Name]. Don't worry so much.”

“No... no, wait.. ! Sister! Sister!” he exclaims, eyesight blurry as tears start to spill.

He doesn't even know why—is it because lacerations have sliced his hands? Or because [Name] refused the idea of becoming a family again?

In his cloud of reflection, he fails to realize that the cage has disintegrated and his twin is racing with a speed he hasn't seen.

“[Name]!!” Lumine calls, fingertips brushing against the back of her older sister, but she merely passes through the cloak of blue and black—and the portal closes.

Defeated, she sinks to the ground, eyes wide, “Ah... no.”

Paimon does not know how to use her voice as the pair grieves on the stone floor, next to the portal that took their sibling away.

She left no traces, not even a glimmer of flaxen dust from the spears she conjured. Nothing.

Just another memory of her presence—of her departure.

Now, both Aether and Lumine are the ones to soothe the anguish in their hearts.

“... Come back.”

Now, they are the ones to whisper the same words they heard but paid no attention to.

a/n: yes, MC is referred to as a 'King' despite being a woman, this is because the title of 'King' is the highest (and thus most powerful person) in a reigning dynasty. And MC is stronger than the twins (granted we don't know how exactly strong they are but just envision-). So, er, Saber moment? 😆

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @uwu-dreams @yvechu @alana5021

#m-sister!#aether x reader #aether angst #genshin x reader #female reader #genshin angst #lumine angst #platonic relationship #sibling au

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