#but it’s the dragon year baby. time to take on that beast

[kurakuradon]

𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉, 𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖘.

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 1: Affliction

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3  (In Progress!)

Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You struggle.

Hello! Welcome back, all! This instalment is going to be a journey for Reader. A bunch of bad shit has happened in her life. It's about time she begins facing all that, you know? Not all of it will be heavy, but there will be some psychological fuckery and an opportunity to delve into the layers of the relationship I've spent time developing. My intention is to have this function similar to little slut, in that it's a series of one-shots set chronologically. Each will be a self-contained 'highlight' that is set during the six years Daemon is exiled on Dragonstone. This instalment will cover babies, healing, pregnancy, relationship development, funny hijinks, dragons and smut! Always smut.

EDIT: I am dumb-dumb and forgot to thank @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing and giving this her necessary stamp of approval and being the bestest biffle EVA, as well as @spoolofblack for reassuring me that Daemon is NOT too OOC here and cheering me on through the AO3 tagging journey. Thanks be!

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of post-partum depression, lite smut, lactation and lactation kink.

“Thus was Prince Daemon banished from his brother the King’s city, and with him his niece and newborn heirs. Exile had long favoured the rogue, and this latest decree brought a period of quiet to the isle of Dragonstone, the years giving rise to further progeny to strengthen his House’s line. Together with the Princess Rhaenyra, Daemon and his wife presided over the Targaryen stronghold for several years before circumstances would take them once more to King’s Landing.”

- ‘Fire & Blood: Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn

He is staring again.

You do your best to pay it no mind, though the weight of his eyes upon you is heavy, nonetheless. An onlooker may well assume his focus is on the scene in its entirety—upon the babes propped on pillows before you, their grasping fists skating across dragonscale as they grunt and babble, reptilian rumbles filling the void between sounds—but you know better. Your husband has not been the same since… since that night. You cannot blame him, though it vexes you so.

One of the dragons—the creature with scales of amethyst glittering even in low light—hisses in outrage as Aelys takes hold of his tail, curling around himself with teeth bared as if to warn your daughter of the fate that awaits her. No bite comes. Unbothered, she tries to tug her quarry to her face, and you can only presume the intent is to explore this new surface with gnashing gums.

“Let go, my lovely,” you tell her as your fingers work to free the beast of its skin-and-bone shackles. The babe’s grip is surprisingly firm. “Azorion has done naught to deserve such untoward treatment.”

“Did it not shit in the cradle this morning?” comes Daemon’s idle question from the desk.

When you glance over, you find he has made himself busy once more, appearing for all the world as though he is deep in his papers. You suspect otherwise.

“He is only small,” you say by way of response. Aelys’s face flushes with the threat of tears when her clasp is finally released, so you slip your own digits into hers to placate her. The other dragon, the long-limbed and sun-hued Valnissar, presses its snout against her neck as if to soothe her temper. “He cannot help it.”

Azorion scrabbles back to Rhaenar’s side, huffing indignantly even while burrowing into the boy’s side, leaching his body warmth. Rhaenar’s eyelids begin to droop, the comforting mass of his future mount an unwavering reassurance, while the steadiness of Valnissar’s even breaths along her flesh ease Aelys into a state of calm.

“If it can eat unaided, it can shit in a place that is not where my children sleep.”

The creature seems to rouse at the mention of his earlier mishap; you pat him reassuringly. “He will learn.”

Daemon grunts, summarily ending the conversation.

This is how most of your interactions proceed as of late: a vague, uninterested query, an overly polite response, a terse conclusion, and two evidently discontented persons not quite certain how to bridge the divide that has risen between them. And there is a divide, you are sure of it—why else does the man who is never without a word to spare suddenly bereft of speech in your presence?

The only thing that eases your mind is the knowledge that, for all his recalcitrance, there is no love lost. His hands still linger—on your back, your waist, thoughtless touches that settle hot and heavy and remind you of his solidness. He smiles still, amused by the sing-song lilt of your voice as you coo down at the twins, laughs when they babble back in mimicry of true dialogue. At night, his arms are encompassing, almost too tight, the clutch of one upon that which they fear to lose most. His body speaks the words his lips cannot, laying bare the desperate frustration—the fear, the anger, the worry—that he has carried since the night you had fallen under the spell of old magic, the night you had woken your children’s mounts from their eggshell prisons and called them forth with fire and blood.

Daemon is not the only one who ruminates upon it. You yourself remember it in pieces, flashes of memory that you cannot make whole. The heat of the hearth. A glow, orange, red, yellow. Stinging upon your hands, and the iron tang of blood upon the air. It is as though it occurred to another being—like you had watched rather than been part of it all. There is little wonder that the sight must have made him so uneasy.

You startle when your uncle abruptly stands, rolling his neck to dispel any latent discomfort from remaining in a static position for so long. He falters, appears to decide on something unknown to all but his own mind, then moves toward the rug where you have arranged your babes and their dragons.

Crouching down beside you, his hand reaches forth to cup the round softness of Rhaenar’s head as he murmurs, “I’ll be back later.”

“Before supper?” you ask just as quietly.

He makes a vague noise of assent, smiling absently when Aelys jams her fist in her mouth and babbles to herself, drooling all the while. Valnissar perks up at the sight of his second-favourite person in the world, chittering excitedly as he makes a concerted attempt at climbing up Daemon’s leg. Daemon hisses, extricating the spindly creature’s claws and placing him on his shoulder. Valnissar flaps his wings and promptly tries to weave his way into your uncle’s hair. Your nostrils flare in amusement.

Daemon does not look at you, but you do not mind; you understand the draw of the twins and their young mounts all too well.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

At that, he turns further into you, his gaze finally lifting to find your face. From the corner of your eye, you see the looming shadow that forms whenever he allows his thoughts to consume him. It casts his features into darkness, the heavy set of his brow wrinkling inward as disquietude metamorphoses him. But the tale enacted through his expression is mitigated by the press of his other hand against the small of your back, achingly tender even in its firmness.

“To the Dragonmont.”

You nod. “Ah.”

He will not tell you yet, but you suspect he is looking for answers. The last great repository of Old Valyria is bound to provide at least some insight, though part of you—a large part—is too afraid to seek them yourself. You worry what you will find if you should search through the ancient texts of your people, what they might say of those with the power to hold fire in their hands without fear of burning. It is not something you have ever heard of. If House Targaryen could claim such a feat, it would not be a secret. What does it mean? You know not.

And so, you make no protest when his thumb strokes against Aelys’s cheek in parting, when he unceremoniously drops her dragon to the floor beside her and ignores the protesting squawks to lean in and kiss your cheek, muttering his goodbyes as he rises to leave. You do not turn around, but you know his routine well enough by now.

A clatter by the bed, and Dark Sister is retrieved—scabbard and all—to be fastened at his waist. A scrape, the chair at the desk being pushed back in. A pause. He takes one final look at you all, wife and children and dragons laid about by the hearth in seeming bliss. You feel his stare as it rests on you and you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, footsteps echoing, then fading, fading. The imprint of his lips and his touch remains, an unsettling reminder of all that has been left unspoken.

You dispel such thoughts with a sigh. As worrying as Daemon’s behaviour has become, it is by no means your first priority now that you are a mother.

Looking down at them, you wonder if you will ever get used to the idea, to the fact that these two little beings grew in your belly until they were ready to come into the world, and now they are here and they are yours. ‘Mother’ means the woman through whom your very existence came to be, the name Aemma spoken in hushed whispers and always carrying with it the trace of unending grief. ‘Mother’ means Alicent, the girl-turned-Queen who birthed your brothers and sweet Helaena, who gave you little Daeron to love in place of all you had once been without. ‘Mother’ means Rhaenyra, your staunchly devoted sister who had in part raised you, who even now rears kind, intelligent sons who are more than deserving of the legacy she will one day leave them. You find it entirely strange that a word representing these women—such forces in your life, for good or otherwise—is a word that applies to you.

Motherhood is strange, foreign in a way you do not feel you can overcome by consulting dusty tomes in companionship with Ser Lysan, the manner in which you have familiarised yourself with all foreign things in summers past. This feeling has crept into the crevices of your mind in barely perceptible pulses, slow and unassuming with every new thing you learn about these wonderful, terrifying beings your body created, with every new feat they achieve as they grow and adapt to their environment. At times, when you are alone, you worry you will be no good at it. How can you possibly fare well at such a monumental task without a mother to guide you? What if you make a mistake?

What if your babes—who you know you love more than anything in the world, more than you ever thought anyone could ever feel in their beating hearts, so strong it is almost sickening—come to know of your inadequacy and loathe you for it?

“What seems to be the issue, Princess?”

Gerardys’s hands are folded together before him, his expression as kind and reassuring as always. You wish you truly were reassured, or the too-hot, roiling sensation of your gut might not be quite so pronounced.

There are many responses you could give. The fact that your husband is ill at ease with you for reasons you cannot risk explaining, lest the entire Realm learn through whispers and tales of Valyrian blood magic and some concealed devilry that ought to be put to the sword. That your doubts about how suitable you are as a mother are rising with every second of every hour that you are left to tend your children, feelings that must be wholly unnatural to a woman or otherwise, would you not have heard of such a thing spoken in your many years among the ladies at court? Or perhaps that the woman whom you would prefer to speak to of this matter is in King’s Landing to fetch fresh supplies at this very moment, leaving you no alternative but to be in the maester’s solar instead.

No. None of the answers to his question that come immediately to mind are appropriate here, and nor are they the true reason for your visit. Thus, you brush them aside and take a deep breath.

“I… I have some—concerns.” At his encouraging nod, you add, “About my… supply. For the babes.”

“Ah.” You are glad he seems to have interpreted your hedging correctly; he clears his throat. “I am a physician,” he reminds you, though his tone is by no means judgemental. For all Daemon’s dislike of him, such gentility is why you believe him to be one of the best practitioners in his field, and certainly preferable to Mellos. “While I—understand the indelicacy of the subject matter, I am afraid you are going to need to elaborate, your Highness.”

“Oh. Of course.” You glance away, discomfited. “I… wish to feed the twins myself. By myself. But I”—you gesture weakly to your chest—“my milk has not come in as much as I had hoped it would… by now…”

Rhaenyra has never had this problem, you think. You cannot help it. It was not so long ago that the merest mention of a babe had been enough to wet the fabrics of her gown, never mind that Joff had had the luxury of choice in his supply. Your sister had in fact bemoaned the stubbornness of her body in refusing to dry up—she never let her sons latch for longer than a moon’s turn after each birth, preferring to, as she said, “keep her tits from turning to suckling udders”, long-teated and all. Jealousy is the sin of the vain and impious, but your beating heart thrums with it even so.

Gerardys frowns. “Forgive me—but I was certain that a wet nurse had been requisitioned for them?”

“Yes. But I would—I would prefer to feed them on my own.”

It is not as though you dislike Freda. While she is certainly loud and bawdy and oft far too inappropriate for company, she cares a great deal for Rhaenar and Aelys. You see it in the readiness of her smiles at them, how she cradles them as if they are the most delicate beings in the universe, the way she praises them so effusively for the most base and vulgar of actions—“I’ve never seen a shit so splendid, your Highness, never did I once! A talented little fellow is our little prince, he is!”—but it is not the same. You are their mother, not she. Freda’s presence is not just expected, but required to ensure both your babes have full bellies. It does little to ease your lack of surety.

Though you can tell that Gerardys is perplexed by your insistence, he stares past you thoughtfully, his eyes squinting in his concentration.

“It is not uncommon,” he says slowly, “for a woman with two nursing babes to produce an insufficient volume to accommodate them both. ‘Tis why wet nurses are so popular!”

“I know. I would just… I want to do it.” You wonder if you sound as exposed as you feel. “I am their mother. I should feed them.”

Your words seem to matter not, for the maester is already muttering to himself and rifling through the cabinet by the door, low tones interspersed with the soft clinking of glass vials being shifted about.

“If you insist, Princess,” he says absently, humming under his breath as he balances on tiptoe to reach his higher shelving. After a moment of silence, a noise of muted triumph. “Ah—here it is.”

What he presses into your hands is not an ampoule of some sort, but a plain pouch of hemp and string. The contents within shift about readily, though it prickles when you squeeze too firmly, like dried herbs.

 “Thistle tea.” Gerardys watches as you inspect his offering. “Steep for half an hour, strain. Consume plain, no milk or honey. One cup a day, no more or less.”

“How long will it take to work?”

“You ought to begin seeing an increase in production within a sennight. If you can encourage the babes to latch more frequently, you’ll have better results.” At your enquiring look, he elaborates. “The more often the breast is drained, the quicker it refills and thus the more milk you will produce.”

You colour at his use of such a word, not entirely accustomed to speaking so plainly of something so long viewed as unseemly with another man. It is scarcely tolerable even with your ladies. “You have my thanks, Maester Gerardys.”

“Of course, Princess. But remember—do not exceed more than a cup a day!”

You take his advice to heart over the next few days, exhorting the serving staff to ensure you are delivered of a cup brewed to the maester’s specifications each morning. It tastes unremarkable, a leafy bitterness so often customary of herbal tinctures and tonics, though you think you might find it more palatable with the addition of such ingredients as the ones expressly forbidden to you. The very worst of the flavour collects at the bottom of the cup, forcing you to steel yourself to stomach the sharp-tasting dregs and cleanse your palate with fresh water. You bear it silently, praying that you will soon see the benefits promised to you.

But, after a sennight passes, there is no change.

At least, you think there is no change. Rhaenar is not one for fuss and fuddle, and the one time Aelys is not so is in the hours following feeding, her belly full and warm and leading to an easy, calm drowse—but after letting them latch for half an hour, neither babe is sufficiently serene to suggest that the tea has done its duty. Rhaenar kicks and grizzles, mouthing vainly at your nipple as though you are concealing some previously stored contents still within your breast, while Aelys progresses to full, drawn-out wails. Freda watches on, wringing her hands as the twins caterwaul. The front of her dress is stained, sympathetic leakage in response to the veracity of their cries.

Perhaps it is this fact that finally breaks you.

All at once, you no longer feel saddened or confused, concerned or unsure. You are angry. Why should she—a woman who had neither carried nor shared blood with them—get to give your boy and your girl the sustenance so essential to them? What does she possess that you do not? Why have the gods forsaken you? If they have built the womanly form to bear and nurse her children, then you ought to be able to carry out your duty as intended. Not Freda. Why are they taunting you with such a poisonous reminder of your own failure?

 “Your Highness—”

“No!” Your rebuke is sharp and swift, punctuated further by what you can only assume is a truly withering glare. “Leave us!”

“But the little pr—”

“I said get out!”

The shrillness of your voice only serves to further upset the babes. They both scream, red-faced and baying, and there is a strange sort of harmony to it that might even sound beautiful were it not so devastating. The noise is such that it sets off the panicked shrieking of Azorion and Valnissar, creating a truly chaotic calamity of sound that makes it terribly hard to think rationally. Or think at all.

You bar the room, refusing to allow Jeyne or Bethany entry. You do not need their aid. It is only morning, your thoughts whirl frenetically. Plenty of time to prove that the wet nurse is not necessary.

All manner of people come to your door as the moments—or maybe minutes, or perhaps hours, you cannot tell—pass, no doubt drawn by the crying and the screeching and your stubborn resistance to letting anyone assist you. Ser Lorent raps on the door, earnest calls of “Your Highness? Is everything well?” readily enough ignored and, when that fails, the kindly queries of the maester beseeching you to let him in “for fear there is something wrong, Princess, please let us help you” also dismissed, or rather more truthfully, not quite heard through the thicket of your growing panic. You do your best to disregard anything outside your chambers, your frantic focus centred wholly on giving Rhaenar and Aelys the care they need from their mother—and their mother alone.

But no matter the hymns you sing or the steadiness of your rocking, no matter how perfect your bouncing walk to soothe them or your murmured exhortations to please, please calm down, they will not be assuaged.

You forget what silence is like. Surely you have never been without the sound of bawling infants? The intensity of it reshapes memory, blocks out any sense of rationality or level-headedness. Your own despair rises the longer the babes sob, their sorrowful scrunched-up faces all but proclaiming aloud that you cannot do this.

Your mind rebels. What was I thinking? They hate me. They hate me. I’ve ruined them. I could not give them milk, and now I cannot even stop their tears. I am a terrible mother. A failure.

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

The hatchling dragons, emblematic of their future riders’ dispositions as is the norm, only serve to intensify the battle between your spirit and your fear. They feel as Rhaenar and Aelys feel, only they have sharp claws and sharp teeth and the mobility fresh out of the egg to express their feelings in a way the twins cannot. You cannot fend off their snapping jaws and high-pitched snarls and tend to the twins at the same time. The situation quickly becomes untenable, though you have not the presence of mind nor good sense to discern this.

“Daor,” you snap as Valnissar nips at your exposed wrist. No.

At this age, the bite stings only a little, drawing a thin well of blood to the surface of your skin. You push the dragon away, doggedly continuing to try and force Aelys’s mouth to your breast. They feel heavier again, a sure sign that there is milk enough to quell the babes’ despondency. If only they would stop crying.

You sit upright on the bed, the curve of one foot pinning Azorion to the mattress below you. He hisses indignantly but makes no attempt to shift, resigned to being trapped for as long as you deem it necessary. Positioned perfectly against the cushion provided for precisely this purpose are your boy and girl, heads perfectly aligned to take to each breast, reclined so that their tiny bodies extend below each of your arms and your hands are free to cup their heads just right. Exactly how Ūlla taught you. So why—why—are they refusing to latch?

“Please,” you find yourself whimpering, the sound lost beneath the piercing howls. At this point, they have both become as distressed as each other, never looking more identical than they do with the same flushed flesh and misery-streaked cheeks, near to seizing with the force of their sobs. You try to bring their mouths to each nipple again, but all they do is cry and cry and cry, faces turning away. “Please, it’s right here. Mama has your milk right here, please please please…”

Valnissar tries to climb over your arm to sit on Aelys. You shrug the beast off, and he tumbles to the bed in a tangle of wings. He screeches, teeth bared, and you can just tell he is about to strike at you again.

You push him away.

“Leave me be!” you say, louder and steadily more overwhelmed, your attention wavering between creature and child. Pressing the babes to your breasts does nothing to persuade them to take from you, but what else can you do? “Please drink. For me? For Mama?”

More wailing. Their fists clench, their forms shuddering.

Useless. It is useless. I am useless.

“Why won’t you have your milk?” you ask, and you think you are calm and measured but really you are starting to sob yourself, a discordant symphony of despair. “Why won’t you just accept it? Please, please, I promise it’s good enough…”

Still, tears. And the dam breaks.

They hate me. They hate me. They hate me. It is like a metronome pulsing through your veins in time with the wrenching heaves of your chest, your lungs trying and failing to force in air. The babes cry, you cry, the dragons clamour, the room feels too full—of sound, of air, of heat—and you are so terribly close to screaming at everything to shut the fuck up because you cannot do this, you cannot do this, why did you ever think you could do—

The passageway at the opposite end of the chamber bursts open. You hear it, but you cannot see through the film of your own tears.

“What the fuck’s going on here?”

Normally, Daemon’s voice—even panicked as he is currently—is enough to reassure you. But it only makes you weep more. Here is your husband, arrived to see how poor a wife he has chosen, how poor a mama you make. Here is Rhaenar and Aelys’s father, arrived to see how enormous your incompetence is, how completely and utterly you have failed to do even the simplest of things. The shame of it is enough to send you spiralling.

You do not remember what follows very clearly.

Fingers fumbling to lace up the ties loosened on your bodice. Hands laid upon the babes, the span of palm large and rough enough to disturb their vocalisations, to ease them to a slightly duller caterwauling. You clutch them tighter to you, unable to even look up to see the owner of those hands, but you are not strong enough to resist the determined reach of those arms to pluck each infant in turn from you. A part of you is relieved. They are passed off with murmurs, man and woman’s voices exchanging in low tones. You vaguely recognise them through the fog of misery. The person before you stands, another taking their place. The steady touch of someone with skin that carries the scent of medicinal herbs feels your forehead, turns your head from side to side, presses clinically at the fullness of your chest. Then, the mattress rises, the weight dissipating, and you are alone.

It takes several long moments to realise that the noise—the babes and the dragons—has stopped entirely. That they are no longer present, no doubt escorted to safety far, far away from you. It ought to be enough to torment you to madness, the final step in this harrowing reprieve from reason, but your tears have fled too. All that is left is bone deep, heavy exhaustion and a full-bodied dispiritedness that makes you sink into the pillows behind you, slide down enough to turn to your side and ignore whoever is talking, shut your eyes and block everything out.

You let the darkness swallow you whole.

Of course he is here when you awake.

You do not know if you really expected otherwise. He has dragged a chair from the table by the balcony next to the bed, and he ought to appear more comfortable—slouched carelessly as he is, leg slung over the other in the assured manner that all men who are confident in their right to take up such space are—but his expression suggests otherwise. Not angry, no, but certainly serious; a pensiveness that comes from prolonged periods of introspection. His eyes seem far away. In fact, his entire self seems far from where he sits, as though his body has travelled back to the Keep but his mind is still in the Dragonmont.

Where he has been for days and days, you think bitterly. Reading thousand-year-old texts instead of being here.

His hands are clasped and resting under his chin, his elbows on the armrests. He seems tired. You regret the ire of your thoughts. It is not as though he has gone out of his way to avoid you, truly. He is here when you need him.

You do not realise he has become aware of your return to consciousness until you hear your name softly spoken.

“Rūhossa zaldrīzessē mazumbillā ilzi. Pōnta biktomy kisittaksi,” is the first thing he says. The babes and dragons are in the nursery. They were fed by the wet nurse.

The silence, previously unnoticed, registers at the same time as your relief. They are safe. They are far away from you. It is likely for the best, even though your breasts feel uncomfortably full.

Daemon shifts from the seat to the bed, staring down at you with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. His movements are relaxed, almost calculated, as one who is wary of spooking an injured animal. You think that if he had failed to glean some sort of response from whomever followed him into the room earlier, he would not be quite so calm.

For a moment, you are half-convinced he is about to reprimand you—until he strokes your jaw, brushes a stray tendril of hair from your face. Your heart skips a beat. His touch is kind.

After an indeterminate period of silence, the question eventually comes.

“Skorion massitas?” What happened? His tone is low, measured.

You sit up, making room for yourself by wiggling back against the pillows. Really, you are stalling. How does one go about explaining that they had taken leave of their senses?

“Ūī ūndetā, gōntō daor?” you ultimately choose to say. You saw, did you not? It sounds dull and lifeless even to your ears. “Se avy qubykto massinoti biktys ivestretos.” And the wet nurse must have told you of earlier events.

His responding look is unimpressed. Normally, you would expect him to have yelled by this point. Whatever it is that he has been told—whatever it is that you must have looked like here, near to yelling at your own infant children and sobbing with your breasts bared to the room and two small dragons buzzing about like particularly persistent insects—it is enough to stay his temper for the time being. Still, you do not believe his patience will hold for long.

You sigh, shuddering out an unsteady breath.

Even though the spell of hysteria has broken, it takes a moment or two to gather yourself. Daemon grasps your arms, erring on the cusp of too-tight to be solely encouraging, but it grounds you enough to attempt to explain what it is he stumbled upon before.

Your jumbled thoughts stream out unorganised, and you are only really half-aware of what exactly it is you convey through hiccuped breaths and shaking shoulders. Failure. Disgrace. Cannot even feed my own children. Useless. Bit by bit, it comes forth, juddered and broken, and you cannot even tell what language you are speaking in, or if you are dipping in and out of your native tongue and your learned one without a presence of mind to control it. As you speak, Daemon’s face morphs, knitted brows relaxing and mouth easing from its hard line into the gentlest of frowns. And then, you are silent. You wait for the death knell of judgement.

It never comes.

His hands slide lower, capturing your own and lacing fingers with you. He stares down at this joining, turning your wrist over as though he is marvelling at the disparity in size, in smoothness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It is low, strangely hurt.

Your heart thuds uneasily. This is not how you expected him to react at all. “I—I don’t know.”

He swallows, and again you are unsure if he is holding back anger or if he genuinely has none. The calloused pad of his finger strokes a line down the centre of your palm, eliciting an instinctive shiver from you.

“Gerardys said you went to see him. That you were in low spirits. Irritable. Fixed on this idea of nursing the babes by yourself.” He glances up, his lips twitching like he is reluctant to voice his next words. “He says… sometimes there is an—affliction—of the mind. It happens to new mothers.”

“You think I’m mad?” You try to pull your hand away, but he holds on.

Scoffing lightly, he says, “Maegor was mad, you silly girl. You are young. Frightened. A great deal has happened to you since we wed.”

His jaw tenses, no doubt recollecting those memories. The wedding night. The fight. Laena. Driftmark. Larys. Alicent. Father.

He sighs. “And I… I have not helped.”

Your mouth parts in protest. “I am happy with you,” you say stubbornly. “If you had not protected me—”

“And where have I been since the eve you hatched the twins’ dragons?” He turns from you, resting his elbows on his knees to rake his hands through his hair. “Hiding in the fucking Dragonmont. Like a coward.”

“You aren’t a coward. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met.”

He laughs, short and sharp. It is an ugly sound. “Yes. So brave am I, I ran away and left my young wife alone to care for my children. I’m such a craven”—he lifts his head to look at you once more—“that I found it easier to let this happen instead of admitting how deeply that night unsettled me.”

An understatement, to be sure. You do not think ‘unsettled’ is sufficient enough to capture how either of you feel.

“It isn’t your fault,” you settle on telling him. “I should have just been able to nurse Rhaenar and Aelys without crying like a child—”

“You were overwhelmed. Worried. Thinking that not having enough milk means you’re somehow not fit to be their mother. What utter shit.”

“I cannot even feed them. How am I supposed to raise them?” Your voice is abnormally high and thready. You hear it, though it does not register as abnormal until Daemon’s expression stops you in your tracks. You shake your head, trying to stave off the tremble in your lower lip. “You don’t understand. I want—I need to be—enough for them.”

I don’t remember my mother, you want to say. I only remember ’Nyra and Alicent and Father. None of them were enough. None of them were able to make me feel less alone.

How am I supposed to stop Rhaenar and Aelys from being broken in the same way I was? Who do I turn to? What do I do? How can I protect them when I could not even protect myself?

When Daemon’s touch returns, it is unimaginably delicate, nearly tentative. He cups your cheek, tilts your head so your eyes can meet.

“You are enough,” he says. “How can you think otherwise? To love them is to be enough.”

A part of you wants to heed his words, to allow him to soothe your worries as he is so often able to do. Your thoughts, self-loathing as they are, continue to press against your will and shake the firmness of your resolve. “But—”

“Ah-ah. Remember our vows, sweetling.” His lip quirks, finding fondness in memory. “Did you not promise to obey me in all things?”

You nod tentatively.

He hums. “Obey me now, then. Cast those foolish notions from your mind and listen to your uncle, hm?”

You do not think you can agree so easily as he expects. This is a war in your head that he cannot help you wage through a simple command. But you want to believe that it could be as uncomplicated as he has made it.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll try.”

His answering embrace feels like a port in the midst of a harrowing storm. When the world around you is careening wildly, uncontrolled and unstable, you know that he will bring you back to safe shores. He would fight those waves off himself if he could. You press your nose to his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him—smokeleatherspice—and, for a time, everything feels just a little less terrifying.

“See? They’re fine,” Daemon says. “A night away has done no harm.”

The babes are well-settled in the nursery, placid and rested and bright-eyed. Rhaenar grips onto your thumb in welcome, while Aelys kicks her legs and squeals when she sees you above her. Though you are glad for it—glad that you had not ruined them in your desperate madness—there is a part of you that wishes they had not clearly been so manageable without you.

You eye the sleeping forms of Azorion and Valnissar, coiled faithfully by the sides of each of your children. The Keeper loiters near the window, watching on.

Freda nods hastily. “They have been fed and bathed, Princess, all ready for sleep. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

She clearly thinks this ought to ease your mind. If anything, it only serves to disappoint you. Not only had you missed out—you despise missing anything they do, any part of their life—but now there is no recourse for the ache in your chest. Even thinking of it is enough to make your nipples itch, your breasts throb. You pray that the front of your gown remains dry.

You turn toward the other occupant in the room. “And the dragons?”

The Keeper is here primarily for Tyraxes and Skyfrost, the respective future mounts of little Joff and Corwyn, given that the nurses brought in to care for the babes are not equipped to raise creatures so dangerous as the ones claimed by your House. Today, though, he is responsible for four of them. If the look upon his face and the sweat glistening on his brow is any indication, doubling his responsibilities has caused a great deal of stress, indeed.

“The elder two have been separated from the hatchlings,” he says, stepping forward jerkily. It is as though his limbs are fastened upon strings controlled by some higher being—a human marionette. The effect is startling. “The younger pair have been… spirited, though they are resting for the time being.”

Daemon snorts, shaking his head. “Of course they have. At least they don’t breathe fucking fire yet.”

“Fucky.”

Your husband’s head whips over to the rug by the table, where Corwyn and Joff happily toddle about on unsteady legs. Corwyn is looking straight towards Daemon, smiling and mashing his gums on what seems to be a wooden knight.

Like most of the children in your family, he appears to have developed a liking for the man. Mealtimes now often involve the boy stumbling to Daemon’s side to pass him whatever object he has deemed necessary to be kept in your uncle’s possession, wide amethyst eyes peering expectantly upward until the doll or block or carved figure is taken from his hands. Daemon will roll his eyes, thank him and pat him on his head of dark curls, the act inciting a squeal and babble before the child waddles back to his evening playtime.

At the abrupt cessation of conversation, Corwyn removes the figure from his mouth and speaks once again. “Fucky.”

“Shit,” Daemon murmurs.  You strike his arm reflexively, but it is too late.

Corwyn laughs as he wanders back to Joff. “Shit. Shit. Shit-it-it-it-it-it…”

“Daemon!” you hiss, torn between irritation and a bizarre sort of amusement.

He shrugs. “Oh well. Nothing can be done now. It could be worse, sweetling. He could have walked in on us fu—”

“Rhaenyra will want your head on a pike for this,” you say hastily, in part to avoid scandalised stares from the attending staff and also to prevent Corwyn from repeating what his cousin has accidentally taught him. No doubt your little nephew will learn it from his half-brother, too.

“Perhaps we’d best depart for the evening, then”—Daemon’s hand is insistent on your elbow, a leading force that beckons you to follow—“lest you lose your husband to your sister’s temper.”

“That would be your own fault,” you say absent-mindedly.

You are unable to tear yourself away from Rhaenar and Aelys just yet. They are calm, yes, but this is not where they sleep, where they belong. You do not know if you can bear the sight of the empty cradle in your chambers or the absence of the sounds they make together with their dragons.

“Must they remain here?” you ask, more a whisper than a genuine plea.

“They are safe here.” Daemon reaches forth to let Aelys grasp his finger, an involuntary action since the babe had fallen into a doze during your visit, no doubt lulled by the sound of your voices. She is the more difficult of the pair to settle; you know Rhaenar will follow easily enough. “You ought to take respite from each other, if only for a night.”

His words are gentle, but the expression on his face reminds you of earlier. Obey me now. Cast those foolish notions from your mind. Listen to your uncle. You hear it as though it has been spoken aloud once again. Even so, the pulsing discomfort in your breasts stays your obedience.

“If I could just—”

 “No. We’re leaving. You need to rest.” It is firmer this time, louder and more decisive. He is not persuading you—he is telling you.

With a sigh of defeat, you lean down and kiss each babe farewell, doing your best to quell the unreasonable instinct to cry at the thought of goodbye. Daemon offers his own departing caresses and steers you determinedly out of the room. The walk is silent, though the heat of his arm against your palm is comforting in its own way.

Your chest begins to truly ache, a sensation beyond simple fullness. The dress you wear feels too tight, too restrictive, and you are forced to concentrate on pushing each breath up and out to avoid friction between skin and fabric. The smallest degree of stimulation is enough to bring your milk forth.

The irony, you think in despair. No milk when the babes need it—and now, when they are full and slumbering, my supply is as bountiful as it ever has been. How cruel, the gods are!

When you are finally back in your chambers, you barely notice Jeyne and Bethany’s attempts at greeting, their offers of assistance, their gentle repositioning and the tugging of the laces at your back. All you are focused on as the gown loosens and spills to the ground is how you will relieve yourself of the weight in your breasts without bringing too much attention to yourself. Daemon is fascinated by the prospect, true, but given the strife you have caused… you know not how any complaint of it would be perceived. Perhaps he would finally be angered by your outburst? Perhaps he would be disappointed that you had been so juvenile that you could not even take control over your own body, decide that you did not need the milk and thus ought to have been able to will it away. You have been lucky thus far. It is not likely that fortune will continue to favour you today.

You resolve to dispose of the excess in the privy. It ought to be relatively simple—your uncle is hardly one to accompany you to such a place. ‘Tis certain that the notion of wasting it, especially when your goal is to increase its yield, is disheartening, but what else can you do?

If only Daemon was less observant.

“You’ve been far too quiet,” he says after your ladies exit, tossing his shirt rather carelessly over the desk and the papers covering it. His eyes trail you assessingly, and for a moment you are worried that he can tell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You try to avoid glancing down at your chest. It would not do to give anything away. “I just—I need to use the privy.”

“No, you don’t.” He kicks his boots to the side, fingers working at the ties of his breeches. “It’s not shameful enough to explain the look on your face. Try again.”

“I’m not ashamed!” you say hotly, spine straightening in your affront.

It is the wrong move. Your nipples brush against the weave of your shift, the sensitivity amplified near to pain. You wince, shoulders curling inward and cringing away from the clothing you wear. As a warrior trained to spot the smallest of discrepancies, Daemon’s gaze falls down.

And there—he has it. You know he knows.

“Ah.” His nostrils flare, visage contorting slyly. “Uncomfortable, talītsos?”

Your breath hitches. It would be barely perceptible to any other, but not him. His gaze drifts between your line of sight and the curve of your breasts beneath the thin layer that separates your flesh from the cool air of the room, almost as though he cannot resist the temptation to look.

“I—they did not feed,” you say quietly, resisting the desire to squirm uncomfortably at the intensity directed straight toward you. “If I get rid of it before it overflows, I’ll make even more. That’s what Gerardys says. I should—”

“You should take off that shift.” Daemon’s breeches drop to the floor, discarded easily as he kneels upon the mattress and shuffles into his desired position, reclining like a king against the pillows. He bares himself proudly, arrogantly, the rosy flush of his cock not quite pronounced enough for arousal. His hand extends in invitation, mocking little smirk gracing the line of his lips at the hesitation he can so clearly read. “You’ll not be wasting such a bounty on a hole built to shit in.”

You sway, dubiously convinced. “It’s for the babes, though.”

“The babes are sleeping. Your husband is not—and he is ravenous, sweet girl.” A shiver travels up your spine from the gravelled timbre of his voice, the shadowed fire in his stare. His fingers flex in your direction, beckoning. “Come here.”

The pause you take before you heed his directive to tug open the ties at your neck and shrug the shapeless sleepwear off your form is not borne of any insecurity. You are not unhappy with your body. Naturally, there have been changes: wider hips, softer belly, skin etched with silvery webs across your middle, your thighs, the tops of your breasts. Though you cannot see it, you are sure that the opening from which your children were birthed has been altered irrevocably, too. You are proud of these differences. They mark the finality of your girlhood and the beginning of life as a woman. They are reminders of the lives you have brought into the world. And, like the burns that mottle much of your uncle’s upper body, they proclaim to all who see them that you too are a victor of glorious battle, all the more unique in that the war you had waged was one of life, not death.

No. You pause because you know Daemon, know what he is like. His appetites. His perversions. In any other state—at any other time—you would happily indulge his lusts. But not only is your body not ready to accept him, you do not even think you are capable of experiencing desire at present.

Even so, you step forward, bear the manner in which he leers, take his hand, and allow him to do with you as he will. There is comfort in giving yourself up.

He lays you out next to him, propping himself on his side so that he looms over you. The ends of his hair tickle against your cheek, bringing forth an immediate smile. It is matched by his own answering grin as he dips down to kiss you, and this you have missed. What surprises you is that it is not a kiss of need, but one of softness, fragile as the wings of a butterfly. You exchange breaths as you exchange yourselves in the union of lips.

“Let me help you,” he murmurs against you, the words passed forth to collect on the tip of your tongue. “Let me make it better.”

You nod, tipping your chin back as he presses his mouth to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, sensual in his languorousness. It is like he carries no purpose other than to let you feel your own body again through his touch. The imprints of cooling damp left behind ground you, remind you of how it felt when you had first come alive under him, around him. When he reaches his target, you expect a shift in his demeanour—but he continues just as gently to take your right nipple between his lips and suckle as weakly as any infant might.

One, two, three pulls, and the relief is near instant. Daemon makes a low noise as your milk lets down, melting to your contours as his arms clasp you tightly against him. The sound of him taking sustenance from you is one of the few things you can hear in the relative silence of evening, carrying with it a peace of its own.

He is able to tell when to switch before even you, shifting swiftly and easily to your left to repeat the slow, tender drags that ease the discomfort and loosen the tight, full sensation weighing you down. The only attempt he makes at receiving his own satisfaction is to rut lightly against your thigh, aimless and lethargic, a base urge to self-soothe in moments of calm. You close your eyes, cradling his head to your chest and mindlessly dragging the tangles from his hair.

In seconds, minutes, hours—you know not—his movements come to a gradual halt. His cock remains hard against your skin, though he allows himself to deliver one final, lush glide of tongue along the fount from which he had supped before pillowing his head on the emptied swell of your breast. Together, you indulge in the serenity.

Eventually, you are driven to speak, though you are loath to disturb the mood that has befallen the room.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His palms are warm pressed to the dip above your rear, tightening there as his ears register your voice. Otherwise, he does not move.

“I should be thanking you, sweetling,” he says, each word spoken with a gravity that conveys more than just the simplicity of the statement itself.

Vulnerability is difficult for your uncle, and you have learned all the ways in which he reveals the parts of himself too damaged by the world to readily expose. It is second nature to understand what he means to tell you, what he means to thank you for. Your children. Your life here. You. It is gratefulness, protection, apology, love all rolled into one.

You smile.

‘Tis true that nothing has been resolved. You have not succeeded in nursing the babes by yourself. You have not banished the sickening feeling that churns in the pit of your stomach, a constant reminder of the doubts that plague you. You have not spoken properly of the fire and blood of Azorion and Valnissar’s hatching.

But you have begun on the necessary paths to each. Every journey, however great or small, must start somewhere, after all. And—perhaps most importantly—there is not a single ailment that cannot be eased, at least for a time, by the strength of Daemon’s devotion to you.

As you crane your neck to proffer a kiss of your own to the top of your husband’s head, you know that whatever future awaits you is one you can face.

I can do this. I can do this. For the first time in days, you believe it.

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[lady-ashfade]

Yandere house of the dragon x Hybrid Dragon reader.

Yandere house of the dragon x female reader.

Part two here.

Plot/notes: Most of the characters will be platonic, war with the characters will take place but rhaenrya will be queen but most of the things that happen in the show will not take place. Also in this jace is only one year younger then the reader and aemond. The only mention of the readers appearance are: Golden eyes, red scales. All the adults are platonic but there will be romantic interests, this is just some headcanons, drabbles about how it would go down.

Also would like to give credit to @missglaskin because their whole page gives me inspiration! So go read everything you can and give them a follow! You can ask about different outcomes and share ideas.

This story will continue

I have not read the books so this might not be accurate, but I’m just here to share my thoughts.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, blood, reader in pain, misspelling, idk what to say.

The first time the king Viserys laid eyes upon you it was like the sevens holy voices could be heard. He could recall a distant dream of his when he saw your face, the little face that would mean a great deal to him and the realm. But quickly anger struck his chest when he realized what was happening.

A child not even the age of two with dirt covering its face while being locked behind a cell like some rabid beast, the harden cradled you cried wasn’t comfortable looking, nor was the way it felt. You had be found by a village on their daily fishing hunt, being not a day over one to be exact. Small patches of scales could be seen on your arms.

When your teary eyes looked at him, he knew he had be blessed.

The queen stood beside him and the sting of guilt and pity hit her, how could someone keep a baby locked in a cage. She felt like it was her own kin, her son aemond being of the same age.

 Viserys yelled at the person who found you and made them open the cell, taking you in his arm and rocking you back and forth. Your cries seemed to lessen at his comfort. He claimed to take you in as his own, saying it was your birth right since you had blood of a dragon. Alicent was the second to hold you, the way you tiny finger held onto hers she knew she was the mother you needed- She was your mother.

Leaving the village behind in ashes and blood behind them, calling them traders and savages for locking you up. No one was ever going to harm you again. 

The next to welcome you into the family was Rheanrya and Laenor.

Rheanra quickly took you into her arms from the queen who didn’t want to let you go, but Viserys said it was good for you to meet your sister. She bounce you in her arms, saying how beautiful you were with your golden eyes and red small scales. She walked over to Leanor and he was smitten by you, knowing in his heart that we would protect you. Alicent watched them closely with rage, like you were something that was going to be taken away from her. But she was not going to lose you.

“I think she can sense the baby.” Rheanrya pointed out how you seemed to touch her belly and snuggle close to it. “It seems so.” Viserys agreed with delight at you being so welcoming, but Alicent just stayed silent at how you giggled so sweetly in rheanrya arms, she wanted to pull you away.

The next you meet was Aegon, he wasn’t as happy about the news of a new sister but he was only little. But as soon as he saw you his eyes light up and he reached out to you, he would even show you his small toys.

Then there was Helaena, still being young she would only watch you curiously, touch your scales and babbling words no one could understand. But she was happy to be around you, just your present calms her down.

Being the same age as aemond made it hard for anything to happen, but he was already showing signs of obsession. He constantly has to be in the same room as you, if you are taken out of the room he will cry at the sight. He is at ease in your presence just as his sister, but everyone suspects he sees you as his twin.

Alicent raised you like her own and so did Viserys , she was over joyed how quickly the children saw you as one of their own. She always worried about the future with you at her side, no one knew what your species could do. So she was over protective.

Otto was a little hard to come around. The king calling you his blood child was bad enough as it is, but burning down a whole village was idiotic. He wouldn’t meet you no matter how much his own daughter begged, he saw you as a plague. One that could pull their targets in with their presence and then kill them when giving a chance.

But one night as Otto came to say goodnight to Helaena his eyes meet yours, golden eyes that looked like dragons. His mind clouded with the screaming saying to protect you at all cost. That’s when he became your grandfather, you and helaena being his favorite. He loves you and would do anything for you.

After three years.

You grew to love little jace. He was a year younger then you, him three and you four. He clings to you with every step and always with you anytime he can be, this making everyone else jealous.

Aegon was mischievous, he liked to leave anytime he could and pull pranks on everyone. He was your big brother and constantly taking you with him, he was fun to be around. He let you join in on his pranks, sneaking cakes for you and anything to make you smile.

Helaena like you to sit with her while she told you about insects, you always asked her about them which made her so happy. You even went out of your way to catch them for her. She loves you. She would have matching dresses, having her hair match yours, also you were the only one she wanted to touch. You could hug her and she’d smile, or she would hold your hand and walk around.

When Lucerys was born you were one of the first people to be welcomed into the room. You waited outside rhaenryas room while she gave birth and it frightened you but you got over it quickly at seeing the little baby. You loved him and always asked to see him at any hour, or hold him while you sat down. He loves being in your company and always stared at you with curious eyes. He always held your finger in his little hands just like you did when you were at that age. You and his mother were the ones he cried for. 

As aemond grew by your side, he thought of you has his twin sister. Despite having different features, hair and looking nothing alike. Maybe he didn’t have a dragon, but he had you. You had scales like one, eyes to so you were his dragon in his eyes. He believed that you were sent down to him, a blessing from the gods just for him. He was also every protective, he would follow you and hold your hand. He hated jace for bullying him and that he you away from him at times, he was jealous of anyone that wasn’t his mother or other sister.

The day had come where Daemon Targaryen and his wife Lady Laena and their children had come to visit. This was the first time they had been able to meet you and daemon took interest as soon as he heard about you four years ago.

Daemon did fell a bit shocked when he hears his brother taken a daughter who had no Royal blood or his own, or even his wife’s. Not to mention no one knows who your real parents are. But when he found out you had features of a dragon his interest was always lingering in his mind.

The first time Daemon saw you his body was taking over by possessiveness, he saw you as his blood. He wished he had gotten to you before his brother and Alicent did but he will just have to deal with it…For the time being. Everyone kept a eye on him as he picked up up and refused to leave your side, being the cool uncle he is he would tell you stories and take you to meet his dragon.

It has been two years since then. And now it being a month since you had turned six.

It was a beautiful day, the perfect temperature and the light breeze shaking the leaves on the trees. The only thing stopping this from being a peaceful day at court was the high pitched screams mixed with screech’s of a dragon. The maids and knights rushed to alert the king of what they had find in the gardens.

Your small frame crouched down as the tears and cries only grew louder, the skin on your back began to move underneath and blood seeped through your dress. The maids tried to get close to you but you moved back not wanting anyone but your family. What was strange was not only your cries, but the dragons in the pit could be heard. You screamed for everyone- Anyone that would come for you, you just wanted the pain to stop. It was the most pain you had felt in the small years you have been alive, you had wondered if this was the pain you had been told about from every woman.

“Where is she?” You heard your father scream as he came around the corner of the rose path, Alicent rushing quickly behind him in panic. They stop immediately at what they saw. You gripped onto your dress as you looked at them with a wet face. Behind you stood a set of red and golden wings, small set of dragon wings fit for a baby dragon. “Y/n.” Alicent quickly moved towards you seeing the pain you had went through and the blood. She took you in her arms carefully not to hurt you anymore while you cling onto her.

“My sweet girl,” Viserys was filed with pride and praised you for being so strong, he wasn’t looking at it as you were in pain but that you had gained something wonderful, “She will be a fine warrior.” He took you away from alicent and showed most of everyone that past just how wonderful your wings were. Alicent had to beg him to take you to a master seeing you still flinch at the pain but tried to hide it for Viserys.

As you had calm down and patched up, you learned how to love your wings and retreat them back into your skin. It was painful but it felt better to sit down without them. As you laid in alicents lap the next person to walk in was rhaenrya.

You smiled and hugged her while being happy they both were there with you but they didn’t see it like that. The glares Alicent sent rhaenrya was threatening but she gave it back. “She needs to be careful.” Alicent stated. “I agree but she also needs to learn how to control it, best do that with the help of me.” They didn’t want to fight in front of you but it was all said in their eyes, no words.

A few days after your recovery the children were aloud to see you but they couldn’t touch yours back. Both mothers stand in the room for it just to be safe, Alicent didn’t trust rhaenryas kids around hers.

Luke was the most excited one, jumping up and down while asking questions. He would praise you for it saying just how awesome you would be when you grew, he did beg you to show him your wings but he was shot down by his mother.

Jace held your hand and told you how much he missed you in the time away, also sharing his thoughts of how much he grew sad hearing you where hurt. He would also tell you how cool thought it was that you had wings, saying he can’t wait till you show him.

Aegon was making a joke about it but in a nice way. Saying how when you grew older you could probably kill people with them and become a great warrior. He did like the thought of having you around to protect him and be at his side- When no one else was there for him, you would be.

Helaena was calm by your side and told you everything she saw of your scales and wings and related them to insects. She didn’t yell or beg to see them but you could see the tint in her eyes of wonder at what she imagined your wings would look like

The twin girls Baela and Rhaena, comforted you. Knowing how much pain you were in was sad and the girls cried when they first found out, being on the younger side they saw you as a older sister. They loved you so much, they brought you gifts and offered to do anything you wanted to do for the next month.

Aemond saw this more of a sign at just how amazing you truly are. The dragon that was sent to him in his time of need when he had no dragon to claim. His twin flame, his to protect. He would ask you if you were in any pain and holds the hand jace was not and ask if he could see them once you could. The praise he gave you was overwhelming to say the least but he was also worried about if your body could handle it. He blamed himself for not being with you when they came out. But he was here now and forever…

Otto spent time with you when you where recovering, reading you some stories and made sure to make you smile at least once. He would tell you how much you are worth of your abilities and everything. He knew that he could now use you on his side when you grew older and he will help guide you on a good path.

Daemon was the first to suggest they fly across the sea to see if they can find someone to train you. He also suggested that you start training as soon as you recovered but Alicent didn’t want you to, something rhaenrya agreed on saying you should wait until they know more.

And as time went on your powers grew along with you, not knowing much was a faint memory. But war was on the horizon and with you was the center piece.

[lukerycyja]

How to take care of your funny looking dog tutorial

Paring: zhongli x reader (platonic)

Summary: you find this funny looking dog during a hunt in the mountains and decide that you won't kill him for meat but instead take care of it.

Warnings: description of wounds, hunting, some blood, reader isn't vegetarian, female reader

@zhongrin tis one for u

The mountainside was uncharacteristically cold this year. The winds blew and snow fell few times and it was only the beginning of the autumn. You could tell, that this winter will be a challenge to survive.

Your hands hurt as your fingertips let go of the arrow. However, the pain was worth the wait.

Preparations for winter for somebody living in solitude in the mountains is never easy. There was a lot of unpleasant surprises and challenges to overcome just to survive. And since this winter wouldn't be merciful, you had to do double amount of work.

This catch would be the last of today. Since dragons already left for the winder, escaping from the cold, there was plenty of prey roaming around, getting as much food as possible. Only during early spring and autumn the vast terrain controlled by the dragons was suddenly deprived of most predators, causing a lot of animals to venture along the mountainside.

As you approach what you though was a big brown salamander that somehow could run fast on land, you stopped abruptly. It was not a salamander like one you could see in the ponds in the caves.

This lizard had small horns and dirty, glued together fur. It also had small, yellow and standing scales along its back. And of course tuft of dirty, torn of once probably yellow fur at the end of its tail. Was it some mix of one of those illuminated beasts you heard once? It looked too scrawny and small for a dragon, with longer body. Besides, they already left. Your arrow pierced its tail and lizard got stuck while running away, with arrow getting it stuck between some fallen branches.

Little guy struggled a little more but it quickly run out of energy, now breathing heavily and looking at you with wide eyes. It's trembling and quiet whines made it look more pathetic.

You could tell, that while looking chubby and soft, it was definitely underweight. It scales dull and greyish in colour almost completely with no shine. It looked so pathetic that you couldn't bring yourself to finish it. Besides, there was little to no meat on it anyways.

"Hey there bud" you said in calm, quiet voice, slowly moving towards it "I'm not going to hurt you... at least not anymore"

You tried to not look into its eyes and crouching to make yourself look smaller and less intimidating. You didn't know if it worked, but you knew that jumping onto the poor thing would only make it worse.

It only could wiggle and whine as you finally got to it.

You knew that once you freed it, it would probably run away and die.

"I know you are scared, but I can't let you run little buddy. I will have to take you and make sure you heal, okay?" You felt stupid talking to an animal, but oh well.

It's not like there was anyone in the mountains anyways. Besides, that little lizard looked more and more cute. Maybe after you healed it you could keep it as pet if it accepted you?

"Okay. Let's make a contract. I will take you home and heal you and you will get some delicious meal and a warm bed. You just don't run now, right?"

Your baby talk somehow worked. But most likely lizard just couldn't move because of exhaustion. Oh well, at least for some time you will have a company, or so you hoped.

Picking it up, it only squeaked and quietly whined, weakly wiggling against your hold. It stopped quickly and instead shook as you rolled it in your scarf. Making sure that your little buddy was safe and sound, and that the arrow wasn't able to move, you adjusted your bag with previous prey on your shoulder and started walking home.

You decided to baby talk to your companion to try and comfort it a little, or at least so it can get used to your voice. You did that with your chickens, baby goats and cats and they all seemed to like it. Hopefully lizards liked this as well, although you suspected it more soothed you than it. You still decided to take it as positive.

Yellows turned into oranges and browns, as leaves of sandbearer trees lost lively golden colour and started to die and fall. Some cuihua trees still had ripe sunsetias on their branches that crimson foxes and squirrels tried to collect. You already got more than enough of those, only waiting now for the walnuts. You were sure that you could get them in the next week or so.

And you still had to get down to the village to get that donkey that you purchased, before any snow or rain fell, as mudslides weren't to be messed with. You returned home once after rain and you could dig mud out of your hair and ears for weeks.

Shuddering at the unpleasant memory, you carefully stepped over the line bridge above the stream that in the spring turned into roaring river. You will have to remember to remake it it the spring, as you could tell that it won't make it through winter.

Your little buddy reacted to sudden swaying on the bridge, and whined, trying to bury itself further into your scarf. You could only coo at it and hold it tighter as petting it now was rather easy way to loose a finger or two.

After stepping on the solid ground again you made sure, that it's as okay as it can be, and started walking again, this time faster, as it was getting colder and darker by the second, and you did not want to be caught by the night winds. During autumn their bites were the most painful and unpredictable.

Seeing swaying light of a lone lantern that you set up today warmed your cold body. You couldn't wait to finally cook dinner and light up the fire. And warm bath was a need, considering how dirty you got during hunting and gathering.

And also taking care of your little friend. He needed your attention first.

Walking by your chickens and goats that were returning to their safe abode, you finally made it to your house. Core structure was made with geo constructs by a geo vision wielder that you paid a rather hefty sum of gold and minerals. He didn't take mountain people currency, so you had to give him most of your precious finds from the trips. But it was worth it. Rock was able to withstand the strongest of elements and you didn't have to worry about it crumbling for your entire lifetime.

Warm air and smell of various spices hit your nostrils as you finally closed the door behind you and ventured into the kitchen. Setting down the scarf cocoon you apologized to it, as you heard it's whimper at being moved even more. You quickly set fire under the fireplace and set the bag of gathered food and herbs on the counter, caking off your outside clothes at the same time. Once ready, you pulled out your handy healing bag and started to remove layers of fabric from the small lizard.

As you slowly set it on the table and uncurled it to the full length, you realized that it definitely wasn't a normal lizard but at the same time it was longer and thinner than normal dragon hatchlings. It had horns sure, but it looked as if someone stretched it too much. Regaldles of what it was, you wanted to help it as much as you could.

You pulled out clay bowl and got some water from the bucket standing by the brick stove. You thanked your past self for getting water from the river in the morning so it wasn't freezing and got to work washing your little buddy. He didn't even flinch, and you noticed that he probably passed out from the exhaustion and pain. Poor thing.

As you scrubbed it's scales and fur, you noticed a lot more minor injuries and missing scales. What worried you were the teeth marks very similar to those of a dragon hatchling. Was your little friend bullied and that's why it was so weak?

After cleaning it and its wounds, and getting your own arrow back, you rolled him (yes, you checked it's gender and basing on the look of the scales of his lower stomach and your limited knowledge, it looked like it was male (you can check the gender of a snake by looking how its tail looks, thinker and smaller are females, but i decided to just give dragons something similar but different because why not) in some clean cloth and put him by the fireplace to warm him up.

You then decided to make a meal for yourself and something light for him to munch on so he could get his strength back. Also, you need to stop trying to call him just "him". He needs a name if you will keep him around for a few weeks. But what would even fit him?

You prepared an herb stew for yourself and some light chicken broth for your new temporary pet. You saw that after a while little cocoon started to wiggle around and you guessed that he was hungry for sure, seeing how thin he was.

Putting a small bowl near his snout you heard rustling and quiet whine. He blinked slowly and looked at you with golden eyes, pupils blown wide. It sniffed the bowl and after a short while is wiggled closer to it. You already moved backwards, to not scare it more. You smiled, seeing as it stick out it's forked tounge and dipped it in the broth. There was silence for a few seconds and then it started to slowly drink from the bowl.

You muffled your chuckle as it ate as if someone would take the meal away from him. You could name him after some food, that would be funny. But you wanted his name to be unique. Oh well you will have to try and find something in the old stone tablets that you found not so long ago in the cave.

Leaving the kitchen after making sure he was okay, you left to close the chickens and goats, as well as to finally prepare your catches for long process to make them survive the winter and not poison you.

After you finally washed your bloody hands and returned to the kitchen to get prepared buckets of water that you needed for a bath, you noticed that lizard was curled up tightly, only slightly visible from the pile of cloth and sleeping soundly. You smiled and proceeded to leave it for the night, hoping that it won't destroy your kitchen during the night.

Laying down you could only wonder on how would life change during his short stay with you.

* 1. Name him after his look in some ancient language, because it's funny *

Waking up was not easy, especially when it was only getting colder and colder outside. Knowing you have to get out and feed your animals and open the gates for them already made you feel cold. And let's not even mention getting water and breakfast ready and the dreaded journey to the Hua village. It would take you all day, and dragging that donkey back wouldn't be easy, but he would protect your animals from any stray dog or mountain dog. So it was worth it. If only that could make you move...

Stretching, you got up and reached into the bowl of water on the nightstand to wash your face. Cold water woke you up forther and you got yourself ready for the day.

As you walked into the kitchen you saw that the bundle where your little buddy was sleeping was empty. Thinking that he escaped you sighed at the site of empty pot that had the chicken broth in yesterday. It was empty and oily paw prints made you understand who made the mess. Following the trail, you turned away from the door, as it lead further into your home, into your study room.

As you entered, you were met with... interesting sight.

Lizard still in the bandages and some dust and fat around its mouth was looking at you with big eyes. It seemed as you caught it eating your collection of cor lapis.

Literal rock cor lapis.

There was a minute of silence and stillnes as you looked at eachother. You stunned and he scared.

Then he spat out some of the crushed cor lapis from his mouth.

You bursted out laughing, the scene in front of you was just so ridiculous that you couldn't keep it in you. And he just looked at you and curled up on himself, becoming basically round and you just couldn't stop your giggles. He was so adorable!

Suddenly a name popped into your head. Morax. Which in the language of the north merchant that you met long ago meant round. In other languages it didn't meant anything, but you didn't care. It sounded like a name and was funny. So Morax it is.

After you calmed down and were able to stand up again, you grabbed the little troublemaker and felt his full tummy under your fingers. You had no idea that his stomach was so big to fit so much. That was definitely gonna be a good day.

* 2. Let it steal heat from your body and feed it your best minerals. Be careful, he can bite! *

Storm blew wind in the background as you worked on sewing your new blanket. Some time passed since you welcomed Morax in your home and it didn't look like he wanted to leave you anytime soon. You made him a bed out of an old crate and some soft blankets and furs you had laying around. He loved it and apparently loved you, because he wouldn't you alone. Like ever.

He followed you outside and since it got cold and there was snow falling sometimes, he would climb on you and hide under your scarf. Also, during these five weeks together że was getting slower and sleepier. You guessed that his dragon part, since he couldn't migrate, was preparing for hibernation.

Morax was a dragon, just not a full blooded dragon.there was something else mixed there, but you weren't sure what. It didn't bother you, but you could only guess how that will impact his behaviour. Hopefully he won't be too big otherwise you will have a problem. Being part dragon made sure that he would be big, yes, but you hoped that the other parts weren't too big.

You also regularly fed him cor lapis, as he was really fond of it for some reason. Although you had to be careful, because little beast was so eager that he often bit your fingers as well, trying to eat as fast as he could. You figured that this was a result of other dragons bullying him.

He also gained weight because of your care. His scales became shiny brown and he gained weight as well as grew. Now he was as heavy as half filled bucket of water. Which was a lot for such a small animal. He was now chubby and when he sat on the edge of your table, instead of making a loop with his body, he looked round. But you didn't mind at all. He looked cute and healthy now, and you knew that dragon hatchlings had a lot of chub.

As you were just finishing the last stitch, Morax decided that he had enough of playing around with a ball of unused thread that you made for him and went back to his bed. You yawned and decided to go to sleep. Blowing the candles and making sure fire wouldn't spread from the fireplace, you petted Morax one last time and went to bed.

After laying down and making sure that you were fully covered, you finally rested after the long day. Although you couldn't even fully close your eyes before you heard a quiet mewl. Morax sometimes made this sound, so you didn't mind. But the soft and quick footsteps were unexpected. He never left bed when he went to sleep. Not until sunrise.

When you felt the bed dipping and a small huffs near your right ear, you stilled. He never did that before. Yes, he trusted you to some degree, but despite being rather cuddly and letting you pet him, he was careful.

With great difficulty he finally climbed onto your bed and made his way under the covers. After achieving that, he snuggled into your chest and neck and after positioning himself, let out a quiet huff and started purring.

You melted at his actions and let yourself fall asleep, content and happy.

* 3. He can turn into a more human baby *

Warm sunrays tickled your face, as you walked out of your house on the middle of the spring. Some villagers were travelling and asked you for directions. And as a mountain hermit you lacked human contact, so you started a conversation that was becoming longer and longer. And your little (well, now not so little anymore) buddy was becoming more and more restless after you closed him in the house so the villagers wouldn't run away.

Morax was looking though the small window as you interacted with other two legged things like you. And he didn't like it at all.

And yet he understood that you wanted to be with your kind. He understood because that was what he wanted before his own kin banished him from the nest, his parents watching as his siblings chased him away, not sparing bites and scratches.

He remembered how hard it was to survive in the wild. And he remembered how you found him and took care of him. How your food was warm and tasted strangely delicious, how you gave him his tasty rock treats, how you starched behind his ears and how you let him sleep with you. You were his real parent, his family. And he wanted to be a part of yours.

He felt his small body getting hotter and his elemental energy draining. But he had to, he had to fit in more. He didn't want you to stop loving him. He wouldn't let it happen again.

His energy finally drained and he was very sleepy. He lost consciousness as he made a weak sound, crying out to you to come to him.

You heard a sound coming out from your home, and bid goodbye to the villagers. When you returned you could only stare in shock at the small child with Morax' features sleeping next to your sink. It had small horns, pointy ears, scales along its spine and chubby tail. You also noticed that its hands and feet had dark talons and it had weird, glowing tattoos.

"Morax?" You asked weakly.

It seemed like those above gave you a child.

[ultralightpoe]

The Court - Aemond Targaryen

Description: You and your best friend Aemond begin to pull away from eachother, which is sad because you really love him 

Authors note: Idk. Please don’t hate this

Warnings: Angst?

Word Count: Over 4k.  

The evening of your name day was spent aggressively sobbing in your chambers, still dressed in the expensive gown from Dorne and your hair done up in intricate braids as your maid rubbed your shoulder in an attempt to calm you as the sobs racked through your body. 

You had shouted for her to leave the second you both made it to your chambers, but the maid refused to. She, as sad as it would be to admit, seemed to be your only true friend. 

“Lady Y/n….. take a deep breath in-”

“I NEVER WISH TO SEE THAT ONE EYED BEAST AGAIN?!” You felt as though you were being a slight bit dramatic, but the rationals were not going to be winning your thoughts any time soon. You were hurt, betrayed, feeling foolish. All the times the females at court told you to stay away from the third bord royal child, and you hadn’t listened. “IF I EVER SEE HIM AGAIN I WILL GOUGE HIS OTHER EYE OUT MYSELF!”

You both stop, your anger releasing for a moment as the tears free fall while you stare at each other. 

“Lady Y/n, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. I do indeed.” You snap, turning away and pulling one of the pillows over your head. “I hate Prince Aemond, and I will never speak to him again.”

It hadn’t started out that way, in fact you had always loved Aemond. 

Your family came to Kings Landing when you were five, and your mother had grown close with the queen who had insisted you meet her children. Aemond was a year above your own age and you both got along splendidly, over years you had grown as thick as thieves. One would not be seen without the other. 

The other girls at court always giggled whenever you two passed by, whispering amongst eachother. You simply didn’t care but Aemond always had. “Wouldn’t you like to be amongst them? You know…be apart of court rather than friends with me?”

“Who would want to be their friend over yours? Don’t be daft.” You laughed, linking your arms together and walking to the dragon pit. 

“Yes, who would want to be friends with the girls in court rather than the weird dragonless Targaryen.” He mutters bitterly, leaving you to roll your eyes. 

“They would rather talk about marriage and babies. Neither of which I want at the current moment. Not to mention you don’t need a dragon to be excellent, Aem.” 

He shrugged off your compliment but kept your arm locked with his as you made your way down to the pits. He bid you farewell, just as he did every day and you walked with Helaena back to the keep because she never wanted to train with her brothers or cousins. 

You had always known Aemond was worried about how people viewed him. He was the son of a great king that would claim no crown, he was the member of a dragon riding dynasty that would claim no dragon. He felt useless and the people of the courts liked laughing at this often. He just wanted to fit in. You never seemed to care enough to do so. 

“Lady Y/n?” Your maids voice fills your mind, drawing you from your slumber with a gentle touch to your shoulder. “Are you feeling alright?”

Sometime last night you had passed out during your sobbing, and your face felt absolutely heavy against your skin. Pulling your face from the pillow and sitting up to find you were still in the uncomfortable gown and hair. “I feel…..”

Your maid, who must have been pitying you, smiled lightly and reached for your hand. “Come on dearest, let’s get you bathed.”

Soon enough you were sitting in the tub, feeling lighter than when you woke up since the ghastly dress was thrown to the corner of the room and your hair was undone from the wretched hairstyle you had wasted. 

Your maid, Agna, was brushing through it now. A gentle touch with a quiet hum that had you relaxing into yourself as she worked the knots from your hair. For a moment you felt grateful that Agna had been with you all this time, since you felt miserable and alone. “Thank you…”

It was a small whisper, one she giggled to and kissed your temple. “Sweet girl, just relax. Things will be okay. Why don’t you tell me what happened, hmm, dearest?”

Aemond had asked you to go with his family to his cousins funeral, down to Driftmark, had insisted on it really. 

He came bounding in the day of the trip with books in his arms and a wide smile on his face. “I found a book on Maegar.”

“Do not jest, Aem.” You snap, fixing your slipper as he jumps to you and practically shoved the book into your arms.

“I would never tease or jest about something like this!” You giggle as you read the title, the excitement getting the best of you.

“But I thought that they destroyed all the-”

“THEY DID?!”

“Then how did you fin-”

“The forbidden archives. Come on, we will read it on the boat.” 

And so you did, as his brother and sister flew over the ship you both hunched over the book on  the cruel king Maegar, whispering amongst yourselves knowing you were not supposed to have it. His father, Viserys, looked over to the two of you often, through the window of the cabin on the ship, eyes squinting as if trying to recognize you both. 

Aemond ignored him as he tried reading faster than you. You laid your head on his shoulder, happy to be in this moment with him. 

If only you knew.

“Things changed after Driftmark.” That much was obvious. Aemond had left with two eyes and come back with just one, and a dragon. 

He always had troubles ignoring the people of the court, how could he when it seemed they were all against him? Though he had never really let it ruin him, you had always been there to cheer him up and root for him. You had loved him, it wasn’t hard. 

But once he came back from Driftmark it was a whole new story. He seemed to let it get the best of him, desperate to fit into the courts as word got around that he was a monster due to the eye. But you didn’t leave his side. 

He began training with Ser Criston, every day. And every day you would sit in the yards to watch him train, when you tell your maid this she just sighs and mumbles that she knows that already, the fact making you blush.  “But soon enough my period came. And my mother began the courting.”

The second you bled your mother had become a mad women. Your mornings were spent with her now, training and learning to be the next great wife. Your dressed changed, you wore whatever was popular amongst the females at court (a lot of cleavage) and your older maid Agna would start styling your hair every morning. 

But you still spent time out in the training yards with Aemond, this time you just drew more attention. Which seemed to bug him more .

You were in the training yard  when you got into your first actual fight with Aemond. 

You hadn’t seen him all morning, having been stuck in lessons with a corset far too tight, and by the time you made it to the training yards you were already in a bit of a grumpy mood. But you still made it for your best friend, sitting on the bench with a book as he practiced, just as you always did. 

But today wasn’t as chaotic as usual, which was odd considering you’d gotten used to the noises of fighting and yelling. So when you looked up to see what was wrong you saw most of the men staring at you already, your best friend glowering at you angrily. 

He stormed over, his gait perfected now, smooth hair blowing around him. “Leave.”

“Aem?” You ask, standing up to his level as he glares. “What’s wrong?”

“Women shouldn’t be in the training yards. If you are that desperate to catch the attention of a suitor you should go to a brothel.” With that he walks away, leaving you there with tears welling into your eyes before you stormed off into the gardens. 

You were caught there by a group of girls from the court, all giggling until they saw you crying softly under a tree. 

“Aw, Lady Y/n.” Lady Tyrell gasps, all of them rushing to hug you and ask what the matter was. You told them of your fight with Aemond and it’s the Lannister girl that snaps. 

“He is a downright monster.” She sneers. “No manners, how atrocious he would ever mutter such words to you.”

“He didn’t mean them, he’s my best friend.” You defend, wiping the tears from your cheek. “He never says those sorts of things.”

You hadn’t seen the look they all exchanged that day, but they dropped the subject, instead choosing to invite you to tea the next afternoon. 

“I remember this, I helped you pick out the dress. Your first tea.” Agna smiles, “First time I had ever seen you be nervous about the girls of the court.”

“I had never cared, but suddenly they all seemed to be my friend and it felt good. Aemond was mad at me, so I tried my best to give him space. I didn’t understand what I had done, but I felt guilty.” You admit, pulling your legs into your chest as she works out the last knot in your hair, brushing it out a few more times before reaching for the oil to rub in your hair. 

“Keep going dearest.” 

So you did.  You told her about your first afternoon with the girls, and what soon followed. 

Afternoon tea became a ritual after your lessons with your mother and your tutor, and soon enough you were excited for them each time. It had been 2 months since Aemond told you to leave the training yards and you hadn’t seen him since. So you spent your time with the girls and found yourself fitting in. 

This was how you got an invite to Lord Borlis’ name day celebration, your friend Lady Baratheon telling you that all the young bachelors would be attending. For the first time you grew excited at the thought, asking her what dress you should wear and allowing yourself to melt into their excitement on the potential suitors as well. 

This is what is expected of you, why not? What’s so bad about it?

So you got ready for the name day ball two days later, braiding your hair with pearls and wearing a gorgeous blue dress just as the others would since Borlis’ house colors were blue. You walked with the girls, arm in arm, to the ball and giggled mercilessly when you saw the great hall decked out for the celebration. 

Lady Tully kissed your cheek before she made her way over to the feast laid out upon the tables, and just as Lady Baratheon leaned in to whisper about Lady Tullys weight you caught eyes with Aemond across the great hall, his eye already set in a glare. 

“- And I already know what you are to say Lady L/N, she is our friend and blah blah about how her weight is perfect for child bearing so we shouldn’t target such matters because she is beautiful-”

“And yet you make your comments anyway.” You tease, forcing yourself to turn away from the prince as she grips your elbows. 

“Are you alright? You look flushed.” She wonders, pulling you to the side. 

“Oh I am fine. You should go dance Lady Bela. Find a handsome suitor.” You giggled, and so she listened. Kissing your cheek once before moving to find a partner for the dance floor. Just as Bela Baratheon disappeared from sight your old friend Aemond appeared. 

“So you are one of them now?” He asks, disgust written in his voice.

“One of them?” You try to keep your voice neutral, the blush climbing your skin in a heat as your arms cross behind your back while he glares down at you. 

“The ghastly fools of the court? You’ve joined their ranks?” 

“You don’t have to be such a brat, Aemond. I have friends within the court, they don’t speak about you in that manner.” 

“Oh I am sure they wait until your back is turned to speak their insults on me. Do not forget you used to be a part of that, Lady Y/n.” He snaps, leaning in.  “Though it seems you were just wearing sheep skin until you could go back to the wolves.”

“You were the one that chased me off. Telling me to go to a brothel.” You snap back, turning to walk away.  He follows closely, bumping shoulders with a knight. 

“You were parading around the training yards, How is anyone supposed to train if they are all staring at the beauty seated in the sides.”

Your skin grows hot as he calls you a beauty, and you stop fast enough that his chest runs into your shoulder as you whip around. “All you had to say was that I was causing an issue. I would have left.”

He stares at you for a moment before nodding his head and stepping back, his shoulders relaxing as he clears his throat. “I am deeply sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Aem.” It felt nice using his nickname again, watching as he looks around the room. 

“Would you like to come watch me train some days? Ser Criston and I have moved to a private courtyard as we learn a new method of sword and I know how much you love-”

“I spend the afternoons with the ladies of the court now, Aem.” You are apologetic and he seems to understand this, nodding his head in defeat.  He is just about to open his mouth when another figure appears, Lord Bernak Baratheon, Bela’s older brother. 

“Lady L/N, would you care to dance?” Aemonds jaw clenches as the man steps in front of him, watching as you nod your head shyly and grab the hand in front of you. The lord begins making his way through the crowd and Aemond snatches your elbow before you disappear from sight. 

“How about the evenings? Rides on Vhagar?” His voice leaks desperate as his eye looks at you intently, a blush feeding into his cheeks as Lord Baratheon turns to snicker at him. 

“Sounds wonderful, Aem.” You agree, watching a smile break out on his face before being led off to the floor. 

“A kind lady like yourself should probably stay away from the court freak.” Lord Baratheon laughs, setting you both up to dance. 

“Prince Aemond is not a freak.” You snap, turning to dance with someone else. 

“It seemed like Prince Aemond wanted to court you.” Agna whispers, now braiding your hair. 

“I-I thought that too……”

Your nightly rides became a necessity to your life. Whether or not you realized it. 

You met him in the courtyard every night, a large smile on his face each night as he was dressed in riding leathers. He always holds his arm out to you and leads you to Vhagar. 

The old dragon always huffed out steam when she saw you, warming you up with a giggle that had her opening her eyes and doing it again to make you laugh. Aemond helps you up and straps in behind you. 

It was always silent for the first hour as Aemond took off, wrapping his arms around you as you relaxed into him. 

But the silence would finally be broken, by him usually. He would ask about your day, but something would end up pissing him off, pick your battle. 

Tonight he broke the silence with the same question he always did. “How was your day today?” 

“Oh it was wonderful.” You smile, turning to look at him, blushing a bit when he is already staring down at you.  “Bela found this old diary written by this woman who had affairs with tons of people in court. She wrote about it all-”

“Please tell me you did not spend all day reading th-”

“Not all day! Just the afternoon.” You laugh, watching as a smile cracks out on his face while he tries not to laugh himself. 

“As much as I would love to hear more about this-” He struggles to find the word for it, and ends up giving up, continuing his sentence. “Book, I’m curious to know what else you have been reading.” 

“Oh not much.” You smile, waiting for him to order Vhagar to land on a small island, watching as he climbs down before you follow. 

Once he is sure both your feet are safely on the ground he leads you to go sit on one of the cliffs looking out to the sea. “Don’t be shy, tell me all about the books you have stolen lately.”

“Well I haven’t been.” You admit, not thinking about it. “I’ve been kinda focused on my lessons as of late.”

He looks excited at this, head snapping up to meet your eyes as he smiles. “What lessons?”

“.......Wifely lessons.” 

He stares at you for a moment, blinking and staring, before finally cracking out in a harsh laughter. “Oh Y/n, come on. That was too funny.” 

“I wasn't joking…..”

“I’m sorry?”

“I wasn’t joking, Aem.” You repeat, shrugging as he glares. 

“You have been taking….wife lessons? Be serious.”

“Every woman in the court takes them.” You defend, laughing. 

“That's absolute shit.” He laughs so hard he slips off the rock and hits the grass below him. He curses under his breath as his feet fly in air, boots nearly hitting your head. 

“Hey, watch it!” You laugh, shoving his boot away with a laugh.

“You dare push the Prince?!” He gasps, snatching your hand and dragging you down to the grass with him, both of you laying with your sides in the grass, staring at each other. The moonlight hits his cheekbone perfectly and for a second you feel your heart climb up your throat and you have to clear your throat. 

“I have fun in my…wife lessons, whether you approve or not.” You whisper, reaching a hand to snap his eyepatch off. He rolls his eye at this but lets it fall anyways, laying back to look up at the sky. 

“Well I think you’re wasting your time.”

“Why is that?” 

“Because you would be the perfect wife.” He says, shrugging a bit but not looking at you. 

“And why is that?” Excitement fills you as you sit up to look at him, smiling from ear to ear. “

“Because all you must do is provide an heir.” He laughs and just like that your heart sinks and tears well up. 

“That’s not all you do.” You snap, desperate to gain a small compliment from him. 

“Oh? What else does a wife do?” He smiles, leaning up on his elbows. “You spend all day with the other females of the court, what else do you talk about then?”

“We talk about many thin-”

“Let me guess. How stunning Lord Baratheon looked-” He is cut off by a harsh shove to his shoulder as you stand up and storm off. “Y/n! No!”

“Fuck off Aemond!” You snap, hearing him jump up to chase after you. 

“You used to think the same-” He defends, stopping short when you whirl around to glare at him. 

“Things change Aemond. You changed. I changed.”

“I changed?! How the fuck did I change?!” “After your eye you changed-”

“OH? I apologize Y/n, did a knife being plunged into my eye change me?”

“It did! You became….Became…”

“Say it. Go on pretty girl-”

“YOU BECAME AN ASS! You stopped talking and started training all the time, you stopped asking about me and started talking about your cousins non stop. You’re obesse-”

“I ask you about your life all the time!”

“Yeah! After I became friends with the people in the court! Just because you want to mock them!”

“Because they are absolutely ridiculous.”

“They are my friends.” You snap. “Which makes me-”

“Enough.” He stops you, reaching a hand out to grab your arm. “This is getting us nowhere-”

“I am a part of the court now.” You defend, standing straighter. 

“We used to be best friends.”

“Then you-”

“Changed. I know Y/n. I know.” He mumbles. 

“I want to be your friend Aemond.” You admonish, pushing his arm away. “But I do have responsibilities now, which includes getting married. Please don’t be against me on this.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m confused.” Agna confesses, moving to grab a cloth for you to dry in. 

“I was too, so I discussed it with my two closest friends.”

Claris Tully and Miriam Tyrell had been more than willing to listen to you complain about Aemond, skin heated in a blush as you recall all the information. 

“It sounds like our prince has something for you.” Claris smiles, chewing on a pastry before setting it on the table before her with a deep blush. Miriam scoffs, picking it back up and handing it to her before grabbing some of her own. 

“It sounds like the prince loves you.” She agrees.

“I can assure you he does not.” 

“We should find out.” Miriam giggles.  

“How do we do that?” You snap, reaching to grab some pastries for yourself. 

“On your name day! It’s coming up and everyone knows Aemond hates court gatherings. If he shows up he loves you.” 

“He showed up at Lord Baratheons name day-”

“He was there to find you.” Claris argues, shaking her head. 

“So you made plans for last night?”

“We planned it for weeks Agna-” You snap, stepping out of the bath and storming into your room. “If he showed up I would confess my love-”

“But he did show up, dearest.” She sighs, following you into your chambers. 

“Oh he did.”

You had been so excited when you saw Aemond, had practically bounced into his arms once he arrived. “Aem!!”

“Too much wine.” He mumbles the second his arms wrap around you, lifting you slightly before setting you back down. 

“None actually.” You snap, swatting his shoulder before stepping back to twirl in your dress. “What does the princeling think of the dress?”

“I think it’s exactly like everything else people wear at this court.” He sighs and you feel a rush of embarrassment. 

“I-... I was hoping to speak to you about something tonight.” You smile, but he looks right past you to where the males of the court were all standing. 

“I’m sorry Y/n. But I was going to speak with Lord Baratheon.” He sighs, moving past you. 

You watch him go for a second before moving to dance with someone who had wanted to. 

It took you an hour until you saw him again, this time you were too deep into the wine, stumbling through the halls until you find a private balcony, sitting down and sighing as you took off the slippers. 

Then you heard his voice, or well, his laugh. Which instantly peaked your interest, leaning your head over slightly to see his white hair and two of the males from court with him, passing around a bottle of wine. 

“I thought you had always been a….. I cannot find the word-” Lord Baratheon laughs, taking a swig from the bottle before passing it. Aemond gladly grabs it, pulling it to his chest. 

“Freak?” He supplies, Lord Baratheon laughing even harder.

“YES!” The man cracks up, slapping Aemonds shoulder harshly. “You have surprised me, who knew the wasted prince would be so-”

“I thought the same for both of you.” Aemond admits, laughing slightly. “I always thought the people of the court here were just a bunch of brainless fuckers who drink wine and fuck whores while running around spilling their seed in wives you are so stupid they don’t recognize a bastard their husband brings home.”

It gets silent after he says this, both men staring at him while he chugs from the bottle. 

“And what do you think now?” Lord Borlis asks, trying to smile. 

“I still think that. But Y/n is a part of this world now so I thought I’d try.” He admits, and though your heart was beating through your chest a wave of warmth blooms in your chest. 

“So the rumors are true? You are in love with Lady L/N? Plan on marrying anytime soon?” This was it, the moment of truth. 

“Lady L/N?  No. I’d choose a donkey over her. It took me years to get her to leave me alone.” He laughs. 

“He said that?”

“And then laughed.” You nod, laying against the pillows with a sigh. “He made a mockery of me.”

“What did he say after?”

“I didn’t stay to hear it.” You laugh dryly, slapping the pillow near you. 

“Well what do you plan on doing?”

“Ignoring him. Forgetting his entire existence.” You snap, laying down. “I will get married. And I will be a formal part of this court.”

“And then?”

“I leave this life behind. His included.”

(IM SORRY IF THIS SUCKED. IM JUST GETTING BACK GUYS! IM SORRY)

[serenescribe]

(For Ficlet Frenzy)

Lilia had to go on yet another long mission but not without entrusting his infant son’s safety to Malleus and his fairy godmother Queen Maleficia. Malleus has to tend to his lessons for the afternoon so the queen watches over the baby.

By the time Malleus finishes his lessons and Lilia returns she does not want to part from the baby she grew so fond of- so much so that she has gone full grandmother mode and tries to keep Silver with her.

(Please make this super fluffy and cute!! I need to be nuked with cuteness)

[✐] ficlet frenzy note: this was written before chapter 7 part 6!

“Malleus. Where is Silver?”

Footsteps echo in the empty hall as Lilia strides down it, heart thumping against his chest as though rattling against jail bars. Even now, so many years later, he cannot help the pinpricks of anxiety that spike his blood at the thought of approaching her Majesty for anything; even if the queen places a great deal of trust in Lilia, continuing to call upon his assistance in spite of his retirement, it is still daunting to stand under her sharp gaze, emerald-green eyes that seem to pierce his very soul.

He’d left Silver in Malleus’ care when leaving for this trip — and to a greater extent, the queen’s as well, for this was her castle, after all.

So how had things escalated to the extent where Malleus was no longer Silver’s primary caretaker?

Before he realises it, he’s reached the end of the hallway. Lilia stares up at the tall oak doors looming over him. For the first time in quite a while, he feels small again, as though he has shrunken to insignificance, his power diluted and severed.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Lilia raises a fist, and knocks three times.

And after a while, he hears it: “You may enter.”

“Your Majesty,” Lilia greets as he pushes open the doors to the old nursery. Once, it had been a space for Malleus, the young prince living in it for many decades until he outgrew his nest and moved into sprawling chambers of his own. But now, a new life has been breathed into it: a cradle takes up the centrepiece of the room, a hand-crafted mobile spinning lazily above it, with dangling charms of dragons circling round and round. The rest of the room is taken up by deceptively simple wooden furniture, minimalistic in their appearance, yet sporting elegant carvings — such as the open toy box Lilia’s eyes flick to, numerous toys spread out across the carpeted-covered floor.

And what a sight it is, to bear witness to the Queen Maleficia, great ruler of Briar Valley, sitting on the floor and cooing at a human infant stacking wooden blocks! She scarcely pays Lilia any mind as he lingers awkwardly in the doorway, instead clapping her hands together as Silver finishes stacking a block. “Oh, how smart you are, my little sunshine!” she praises, reaching to wrap her clawed hands under Silver’s arms — a sight that makes Lilia wince, mind flashing through worst-case scenarios of claws slicing flesh — before lifting him up in the air. “You learn so quickly for a human,” she coos as Silver babbles excitedly, chubby fingers reaching for her horns.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Queen Maleficia raises Silver a little away from her, clicking her tongue. “Naughty, naughty! What have I said about touching my horns, hm, my sweet potato?” It is nigh miraculous that her voice lacks any semblance of anger or irritation, instead flooded with a sickening fondness; to touch the horns of royalty is a blatant breach of boundaries at best, and a crime punishable by death at worst. “I understand that they are quite beautiful,” Maleficia says, voice slicked with pride, “but they are truly sensitive, dear Silver; why not play with this instead?”

He watches as she places Silver down onto the mat before pressing another toy — a wooden dragon littered with scorch marks, making it clear who it used to belong to — into his hands. It is only when Silver is giggling and moving the wooden beast back and forth in the air that Lilia clears his throat, making his presence clear.

The change is instantaneous. As soon as Maleficia lays her eyes on him, her face twists into cool, impassive neutrality, the regal expression of an experienced queen. “Vanrouge,” she greets, her reserved voice a stark contrast to the babbling baby beside her, and her earlier display of sickening sweetness. “So you’ve returned.”

“Your Majesty,” Lilia repeats again. Sweat beads along the back of his neck, but he will not back down; he has to bring his child home, after all. “I thank you and Prince Malleus for taking such good care of Silver in my absence. However, I best be bringing him home now—”

“No.”

He blinks. “I— pardon?”

“Why not stay a while longer, Vanrouge?” Maleficia asks, turning away from him, her face breaking into yet another smitten smile as she reaches for Silver, ruffling his hair as he babbles excitedly at her. Lilia squints; did Silver just call her Malfi?! “There is no rush for you both to return home, is there? Besides, a growing boy like you, my tiny snowball—” She reaches to tickle him, causing Silver to erupt into a giggling fit, tumbling back onto the floor as he squeals excitedly, “—needs excellent food to grow strong and healthy.” Her eyes flick back to Lilia, and he feels pinned to the spot. “Is that not right, Vanrouge?”

“...I could not possibly deny such a generous request, my queen,” Lilia eventually forces out, eyes flicking between Silver and Maleficia.

“Good, good.” With two claps of her hand, Maleficia smiles at him. “I shall see you at dinner then, hm? Do not be late, Vanrouge.”

“I shall not. But… Queen Maleficia—”

“Yes?”

“I would quite like to… spend some time with my child.”

Lilia stares at Silver, silently pleading with him to glance over at Lilia and call out for him, only to be silently betrayed when the infant calls again for “Malfi!” Curses, he thinks, as Maleficia answers the call with a joyful vigour. Silver, how could you…!

“We shall see you at dinner, Vanrouge,” Maleficia answers smoothly, not even looking at him anymore. “Do pardon me for wishing to spend some time with my godson before he leaves, would you?”

And Lilia has no room to reply.

[lullaebies]

Can I request when Daeron either claim Tessarion/ or she is hatched? It will also be amazing if it's slapstick funny at the expense of either Aegon or Aemond. Because we know that Helaena is too smart to be caught up in shenanigans.

This was very fun to write! Ended up as a whole sibling set moment, hehe. I went the hatching route as I generally believe in it! Hope you'll enjoy <3 (also forgive me for any mistakes, I ended up writing this till 1am lol) -

“I told you it will hatch,” Aegon says, the cobalt dragon fighting against the folds of the bedsheets squeaking. Aemond looks at the little hatchling intensely, but only Helaena dares to sit on Daeron’s bed, overwatching the dragon clawing the furs as if they were bears or stags.

“Is Tessie!” the four-year-old Daeron proclaims aloud, gathering the face of the beast into his hands. The dragons squeaks in his hands, but those squeaks turn to croons when Daeron nuzzles against its face.

“You can’t call it Tessie,” Aemond says, appalled. “That’s a tavern girl’s name, not a dragon’s.”

“What tavern girls do you know already?” Aegon snorts at him, poking at his side.

“There’s one in that song…” Helaena supplies, which only adds to make Aemond red. She briskly moves away from the topic, however, waving her hand. “But Daeron had a maid named Tessie,” she moves closer to her youngest brother, pinching him at the round of his cheeks. “Didn’t you?”

Daeron reddens and moves away from her grip. The little dragon releases a puff of smoke in discontent, and Helaena slides away carefully back to the edge of the bed, staring down at it.

“You are going to make the hatchling burn up, Hel,” Aegon says, and promptly brings his own hand to Daeron’s hair, if only to indicate further he does not mean the blue beast in their midst. Said blue beast tries to lunge at Aegon’s hand while Daern’s ears turn redder, too. He yelps and snatches it away quick enough, however. “Are baby dragons supposed to act like scaled rodents?”

Certainly, the whole of them wouldn’t know; little Tessie is a first hatching for their family.

Daeron, mildly offended on his bonded dragon’s behalf, hugs the dragons close and yells at him. “It’s Tessie, not rodent!”

The dragon even manages a little, blue flame that escapes from its mouth, to further drive the point in.

Aegon takes a step back defensively and puts his hands up in defeat, a goofy expression on his commonly sullen face. “Bah. Fine, it’s not mousy, that’s for sure. But Tessie is too normal of a name though, Mond’s right.”

Daeron pouts at that. “But…”

“It can still be Tessie,” Helaena says from the side of the bed. “But it might be nice to make it a part of a grander sounding name, for when it’s going to be big and mighty?”

“Part of…?”

“There’s a family of bush crickets named Tettigoniidea, we can change the spelling some—”

“No.” Aegon promptly halts her, and looks back at his youngest brother, trying to think. “Tessiefyre…? Like our dragons..? ugh, doesn’t sounds right,” he complains to himself, and turns to mutter. “Though it could hardly compare to Sunfyre, anyway…”

Aemond seems to give it the most thought, of the three. “Tessa… Tessarys? Tessaerra? Tessarion?”

“Tessarion,” Daeron seems to brighten up at that. He says it a couple more times to make it slide clearly off of his tongue, and looks down at the dragon in his arms. “Tessarion?” he asks. The dragon croons and presses its head against his finger.

“A good name,” Helaena says, and then dares come closer again, brushing a finger against the dragon’s wing. Aemond dares to come by closer as well, after standing stoically for quite a while. He has always wanted to get close to a dragon, but could never. The dragon he helped name lets him touch its back, for a moment brief, under Daeron’s approving gaze. There’s some calmness in Aemond, then.

Aegon then comes by himself, trying to reach for Tessarion too, last of the three. An inch from the dragon, and she tries to bite again. He shrieks away and escapes behind his baby brother on the bed. “That’s a goddamn snark, not a dragon!” he proclaims, to the rest of the sibling’s laughter.

“That’s a Tessie,” Daeron laughs as he pats the dragon again, smile positively vibrant.

“Tessie, schmessie,” Aegon says, bringing his hands to Daeron’s hair. “I still have you to pet, squirt.”

[chaoswarfare]

~Tim ‘drake’ Drake~

Tim is a drake. Well, not a ‘Drake', Drake, but a drake. Let’s try that again- Tim Drake is a dragon. A scaly shapeshifting menace of a creature that terrorizes humans and burns villages. Not that he knew that from the beginning.

It all started when Janet and Jack Drake found an interesting rock at an archeological site, that seemed to be some sort of massive fossilized egg based on the tough pitted shell. True to their habit of hoarding interesting finds to themselves, they brought it home with them.

And then it hatched.

And the large wingless lizard turned into a baby.

Now, admitting that the baby wasn’t theirs would be a problem in the sense that they would have to admit that they’ve been stealing from dig sites for over a decade. Getting rid of the child wouldn’t be an option either, Janet’s always been squeamish about these sorts of things, and Jack wouldn’t want to upset her like that. So the only option left to them was to keep it and claim the child was theirs.

And thus, Tim the drake became Tim Drake. Irony at it’s finest if you’d ask him.

—————————-

It wasn’t easy growing up in a household where any adults would be out for months at a time, but Tim made do. It was hard for him, always turning around expecting someone to be there, and it always just being him all alone. He dove into his hobbies to take his mind off of it, learning to play the violin and piano at a frightening rate and picking up knowledge as fast as he could get his claws on it.

He particularly loved the ancient folktales of the dragons, whatever part of the world they were from. Feeling the shivers of his scales rattling underneath his skin as the mythical beasts fought to defend what was theirs. Even if it was rather disappointing when they lost.

Starting school was probably the first time Tim had ever been able to compare himself to the humans of his age.

It was horrible. The children attending his classes didn’t see things the same way. On top of that they weren’t as… well developed you could say. They were soft and fragile, and had trouble comprehending the simplest of things, that Tim has been aware of for years.

It didn’t take them long to move him up a few grades to better learn at his current level, but that didn’t help anything. While the children of the higher grades were much more mature than his former classmates, they detested having someone so much younger than them thriving in the class they thought was difficult. Tim didn’t make any friends there either.

The only solace for Tim was going out at night. It felt better being awake under the stars rather than the sun’s harsh light, and hopping between the roofs of Gotham felt so right being that high off the earth. Everything from the wind in his hair to the smell of the sky so high from the general smog of the lower city levels. It felt more like home that the Drake Manor ever did.

He started taking his camera out with him to shoot photos of the skyline and trying to capture the joy of flying across the rooftops. That’s when he first saw the Bats. They were out very nearly every night, doing the exact same things he was doing, and fighting the dangers of their territory while they were at it! Tim knew he would learn a lot following them on their patrols.

So that’s exactly what he did.

He didn’t put the pieces together until he saw Robin do a quadruple somersault, and realized that he was Dick Greyson. It was easy enough to figure out who Batman was after that. All it really meant to Tim though was Bruce Wayne was a much better ‘prince’ of the city than he had thought previously. Every gala he went to where the two were at he watched them interact with the rest of the 1% who attended the galas. His parents even had him shake hands with them once!

It really upset him when the first Robin split from Batman when they started fighting, but then Jason became Robin afterwards. Tim was overjoyed. Dick may have been a wonderful Robin, but he was different than Jason. Jason was kind and witty in ways he wasn’t, and was clearly a born Gothamite. It made him feel that much more relatable.

——————

It hadn’t really set in before now how dangerous following them could be. Sure, before there would be an occasional bullet whizzing past his hiding spots, or a thug would get just a bit too close, but the thing that really cemented it was dangling by the scruff of his neck being held by Batman of all people.

He had raced after Robin too fast to try and get a better action shot of him swinging on his grapple, and just about flew off the edge of the building. It still didn’t feel scary to Tim, the falling that is, he’d fallen from higher up with only some bruising to show for his troubles, but Batman clearly thought differently.

The terror of being caught in someone else’s territory was causing Tim to panic just a little, and Bruce’s deep raspy growl wasn’t helping him at all. He wriggled and kicked at the arm holding him as he was lectured, and eventually got fed up and pulled himself up and sank his teeth into Batman’s gauntleted arm. The shock of his teeth going right through his armor caused him to drop tim(a measly three stories), and he was back on his feet and sprinting away before Batman could get his wits about him.

———————-

The nights after they kept looking for Tim. Tim kept hiding, only coming out for the best pictures. Who knew if Batman would be man at him after all.

Eventually the search died down though, and the usual routine fell into place. Tim chasing them with the camera, The Bats taking down criminals, and Then all of them returning to their homes, with none of them realizing Tim lived just down the street.

They kept going to the galas and Tim even became friends a bit with Jason, albeit in the way people just talk to each other out of a shared hatred for large events. Tim’s parents come home and leave barely a week later, and Tim fights the urge to ask to go with them. They won’t say yes.

Then the unthinkable happened. Robin disappeared.

At first Tim thought it was the same kind of spat that Bruce and Dick used to get into with the increasing level of violence Batman put on criminals. And then the news broke about Jason’s death. They were never truly friends or even met in any memorable capacity(for Jason), but Tim couldn’t imagine the boy not in his life patrolling the gotham skyline and grumpily sulking around the buffet tables at galas.

Batman continued to get worse and worse and Tim didn’t know what to do except try and get the Justice League to realize what was happening in Gotham. He called and called and left so many hundreds of messages and letters and emails, until they told him to stop trying to contact them. With them cut off, Tim turned to Bludhaven to try and convince Dick to take up being nightwing again. He didn’t want anything to do with it either.

That night tim lost control of his form with the extent of his emotions for the first time in years.

With no no other options left, he walked the mile-and-a-half trek to the Wayne Manor to talk to Bruce himself. It took a lot of convincing, but he finally allowed Tim to help him, even just as a temporary Robin. Tim could do that. Just until Bruce got back on his feet and no longer.

He didn’t treat Tim like either of the other Robins, but that was fine. He wasn’t part of the family after all, no matter how often he stayed over, or Alfred made food for the both of them instead of just Bruce. Dick was over a lot to see him, and Tim figured this was his way of missing Jason. Just like being Robin for Batman was Tim’s.

——————————

Tim didn’t know what set it off, and told him something was wrong.

Nothing seemed wrong in the tower, even if it was quiet since none of the rest of his team was in there, there was nothing out of place and no odd smells in the air, but something was setting off his instincts anyway.

His eyes flicked back to track a shadow for a moment before it disappeared back down the hallway. The lights flickered and went off right at that moment, and Tim realized something must be seriously wrong.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly as his daylight filters receded into his eyelids and he tried not to breathe too loudly in case he missed something vital. Tim finally gave up on whatever the threat was coming to him and set off down the pitch black hallway. Every single footstep echoed creepily and he would shudder if he wasn’t able to tell exactly where the sounds were coming from.

He wandered towards the stairs to get down to the zeta tubes, but froze when he heard a single breath that wasn’t his own. Before he had time to process it, Red Hood was already on him and had him in a headlock that was rapidly cutting off his air.

“You really think you’re tough shit, huh replacement?” The modulated voice ground out far too loud next to his ear. Tim struggled and kicked, but couldn’t wriggle his fingers between the Hood’s arm and his neck. He didn’t stop struggling even when he felt a blade rest against his neck, or when Hood kept talking about something or other. He could feel the burning in his core creeping its way up his throat and had to get free.

suddenly a line of pain opened up on his neck, and he hit the ground in a pile. Red Hood didn’t wait to make sure he wasn’t bleeding out before he started beating Tim up where he was lying on the floor. Tim watched in horror as he took off his helmet and revealed the face underneath it. That was Jason, the same Jason who Tim used to follow around obsessively, and idolized before he died. And now he was here, back, to oust Tim from the territory he stole and reclaim his spot.

Tim cried out as Jason stomped on his fingers and the scales under the bruised skin ground together with a sound like bones snapping.

And then Jason.

Kicked him.

Down.

The.

Stairs.

It bruised his outside skin terribly, and the false nerves still sent his brain the same pain signals. Tim groaned from his place on the floor, and shrieked as a gunshot went off and a bullet buried itself under the skin of his thigh as the wound bled sluggishly. The damned thing had ricocheted up underneath his scales and his brain was fuzzy with the agony of it. It was so much worse that any damage to his human skin.

Jason hovers around for just a few minutes, smearing something on the walls, and then takes his leave without another word to Tim. Maybe he thought he had passed out. Figures he would think Tim is that weak.

As soon as the sounds disappear, Tim digs into the bullet wound and allows two of his claws to slice through the skin of his fingers to use as tweezers. His vision keeps flashing with white throughout the whole process, and as soon as the bullet plinks onto the ground, Tim really does pass out.

And then he wakes up in the Batcave, with Leslie Thompkins hovering over him, Waiting to grill him for answers as to how he has smooth midnight blue scales underneath his skin.

—————————-

Tim stayed in Doc. Thompkin’s care for three more days, in which he had to explain his suspicions about his origins. She was a good listener and only noted down the important medical issues in his folder of nothing else. She kept Bruce mostly out of the medical wing past the report of what happened, and put away any of his medical records as soon as any of the family walked in.

Alfred worried as good as the best of them, offering Tim soup and drinks and obviously trying to take his mind off the fact that Jason was back. Tim appreciated the attention anyway, most of the time he just came over to patrol and then went back to the Drake Manor. He sobered quickly at the thought that Jason wanted his spot back.

He knows logically how he would feel if someone came out of nowhere and stole what was his, so he can’t even be truly mad about it since he understands where he’s coming from a bit. For some reason, though, Bruce and Dick don’t see it the same way. Tim just didn’t get why they were so upset about it, as soon as Jason got what he wanted or Bruce put an end to it, it would all be over. That’s how it’s supposed to work.

Maybe Tim was just the one confused. The dynamics of the Wayne family seem so different than what he’s used to after all. The Drakes would never treat him this kindly- especially if he was injured. This kind of coddling would be unheard of, and they would get frustrated and leave for another dig within a few days.

Bruce and Alfred and Dick and now Cass and Stephanie- they weren’t like that. They hovered and wouldn’t let him go on patrol until it was safe and Jason was caught, and they cared! they cared so much about Tim’s safety and health and he wasn’t even a part of their family, he was just placeholding until a new Robin could be chosen.

He can’t help but wonder how they would react if they knew.

—————————-

Red Hood ended up probationally re-joining the Batclan and Tim was suddenly almost murdered a lot less. He knew that would happen when he finally got told by Bruce that he wouldn’t be getting the Joker’s head on a stick or whatever it was he was so set on.

However now Bruce has brought home his blood son from where he’s been living with the League of Assassins.

Damian was loud and obnoxious about how ‘he is the only blood son’ and ‘the rest of you are only placeholders and not worthy of Father’s attention’ which may be true in Tim’s case, but it’s entirely unfair to say that to the others, who are in fact Waynes, whether Damian likes it or not.

And he seems to be leaning heavily towards ‘not’ based on how he’s begun to take it out on Tim. He sets traps and Outright attacks him during training, and if Tim’s senses weren’t as good as they were then he definitely would have succeeded in killing him in his sleep one night. He’s even been thrown off the dinosaur and the railing of the cave.

Damian will just. Not. Quit.

It was fine, everything was still fine until Bruce disappeared. He was gone. Everyone was convinced that he was gone for good. Red Hood disappeared back to Crime Alley, Cass left for Hong Kong, even Dick took up the mantle of Batman and gave Robin away from Tim to give to Damian to appease him.

But Tim could still smell him. Bruce’s scent floated around in odd places, seemingly from nowhere. And whenever Tim brought up Bruce being potentially alive it just upset everyone more and more, until Dick outright threatened to put him in Arkham.

And then Tim struck out on his own. Partially to find Bruce.

Partially because he knows where he’s not wanted.

————————

About two months three days and eleven hours into his journey, Tim starts to get an unbearable itch whenever he’s in his human form. Whenever he even thinks of staying in his false skin, even for a minute his scales itch like they’ve got termites underneath them.

And so he hunkers down in a cave and waits for it to pass.

Soon the itching comes back, on his shoulder blades and down his spine the itch settles into what feels like his bones, and he takes to rubbing on the stone walls of the cave to get rid of the godforsaken itch, even just for a moment.

After what could only have been days of unbearable suffering at the hands of the itching, the skin of his back splits upon, and gives his new wings the chance to open fully for the first time. He cranes his neck back as he fans them, catching the air and drying the skin of the clear slime that they had burst from. Tim’s surprised to be proud of his wings that he didn’t know he would have, the way the blues catch the sunlight from the opening of the cave when the scales are angled just so.

He wished he could show them to Bruce.

The thought surprised him as he crouched in the cold cave on the mountainside, and he couldn’t help but wince at the knowledge that Bruce would probably chase him out of the city.

He doesn’t like metas after all, so why would he want a dragon shifter meta anywhere near his city. Tim shook his head and test flapped his wings a couple times to gauge how they caught the air.

It’s time to find his Bruce.

——————————

Tim found flying to be his new favorite thing.

The night winds carried him farther and faster than any vehicle could before in the direction he caught Bruce’s scent, hiding as plain old Tim at dig sites and grabbing any evidence he could.

Because Bruce was alive, and he was trapped in time.

Tim had already found several clues in different eras and time periods that could only be Bruce letting him know where he was. Even after so long, on some of them he could still catch some of his scent.

Everything was going alright until he caught the attention of Ra’s Al Ghul, Damian’s grandfather. The old bastard has been hiding out in Nanda Parbat for decades, commanding assassinations all over the world. And now he’s noticed Tim, and potentially what he is as well. At least given the assassins he sent to retrieve him, to discuss information about Bruce.

And Tim can’t refuse for that.

———————————-

Ra’s is almost a good host, despite definitely having him drugged on the way there.

Tim woke up in what he presumed would be his room, complete with clothes in the closet and servants waiting on his needs. Ra’s called for him immediately after he woke up, and as he walked behind the assassin sent to fetch him, he couldn’t help but notice the growing unease he felt as he grew closer to Ra’s guest area. There was a strange heavy smell that lingered in his nostrils, and he fought the urge to growl as the warmth in his belly built up to be stiflingly hot.

Tim realized why as soon as he was deposited in what could only be a throne room. The decorations all sparkled and smelled of what Tim immediately recognized as gold, and the tapestries and carpets were of the highest quality he had ever seen. They were nothing to the huge deep forest green dragon lounging on the throne.

Tim hadn’t exactly spent much time looking at his true form in the mirror, but he knew for certain that Ra’s looked very different from him. He had a heavy crest over his eyes for one that Tim lacked, and he had two pairs of horns, one of which swooped out behind his head and the other curled behind his ears, and his head was much boxier of a shape, but had a regal curve to his snout regardless. disregarding all of that, he was almost four times Tim’s size.

He was incredibly dangerous.

Ra’s let his head drift from side to side like a snake getting ready to strike as he watched Tim, before lounging back on his throne as if Tim wasn’t truly worth his time.

“Well? It’s considered rude among our kind to address one another in disguise, little Robin.” Ra’s hissed and flicked his tail at Tim in disdain. “Did your dam never even teach you proper etiquette?”

Tim shuddered as he tried to make sense of what was going on, heaving breaths as he locked eyes with the massive beast across the room from him.

“Ah, she didn’t. I presume that you’ve never met her then. Don’t worry little Robin,” Ra’s rumbled “This will prove to be very educational.”

And then Tim fainted.

————————

The next months he spent learning from Ra’s what it meant to be a dragon, how all the weird impulses and oddities he’d had over the years was his instincts, and he was never truly human in the first place. It took tim a very long time to grow used to being in another dragon’s territory without any immediate risk of being chased out, but ra’s assured him that was normal.

With every month Tim spent out in Nanda Parbat learning about his true form and instincts and what all that means, he grew to miss the Wayne’s more and more. Bruce was still out there and he had to get him back to Gotham where he belongs.

One night tim sneaks out of the temple and is halfway back across the alps before Ras even notices.

Soon, with the evidence that hes collected on his quest he finally reaches gotham to deliver everything they need to get bruce back to the league. He doesn’t stop in gotham, but flies directly to the zeta tubes in the tower and summons his second skin just to zeta up to the watchtower and deliver his information.

But they already knew.

Throughout all the time he had been gone they had also been collecting the information and they were very nearly where tim himself was at when he brought his evidence back. Downcast, Tim returned to Gotham to see how the Wayne's were doing.

It felt odd after all this time to travel the human way. He’s gotten so used to flying everywhere that it seems ridiculously inconvenient now that he has to hide his form again.

He's suddenly drawn back to the fact that Bruce and the others have no idea that he’s a dragon. the imaginings of the looks of horror on their faces as he sheds his skin takes over his mind. He can’t do that to them. can’t let them cast him out like that. Tim makes up his mind about it one last time

He won’t tell them.

it’s for the best.

—————————

Tim makes it back to the manor at the same time that dick and Damian leave for patrol, just missing them. entirely purposely on his part, but he's not ready to face them before alfred. to his shock, Cass is back in the manor, her stuff is right where it used to be in her room, and there’s even evidence of Jason having been around lately.

Tim doesn’t know what to think about the fact that everyone seems to have moved on without him and Bruce there with them. It hurts because they’re his people and they don’t need or want time there.

Turning a corner to go back to the room he used to spend the night in, he realizes downcastedly that it seems to have been repurposed as an art studio of some kind. his scales itch under his skin at the idea that they wanted him gone so much that they would actively erase every trace of him from the house.

Tim decides it’s not worth it before anyone gets back from patrol, he sneaks back out the way he came in and sulks all the way back to drake manor, empty as always where he can brood and be himself.

A place that he could never do at the house he considers home.

A house that has very visibly stated that it wants him gone. Tim wouldn’t be surprised if they changed out all his gear and even changed the zeta in the cave to keep him out at this point either, tears starting to prick at the edges of his vision.

It’s not home.

It’s not home it's not home it's not home anymore.

They replaced him.

No that’s not right, he was the one that replaced someone else, and now that he’s back there’s no more need for Tim to hang around, he’s outlived his usefulness. He’s come to terms with the fact that his parents never wanted him either, so with a heavy heart he starts packing his bags to go back to nanda parbat to be either the manipulator that at least understands how it feels to be tim

It's time to go back to the demon's lair.

————————

Dick catches him on the way out of Drake Manor to tell him they’re getting Bruce back and he was vital to the mission.

He claims to have missed Tim a lot along with the rest of the family, but Tim struggles to believe in his words with Damian scowling like a little demon behind him. Tim tries to explain that he’s just getting out of their hair when Red Hood pulls up on his motorcycle asking if they’ve found Tim and then stops dead when he sees him. it’s like they actually missed him

Tim hesitates for just a moment before pushing his way out of the hug and turning away. He has unfinished business with rad and he can’t let this stop him no matter how much he wants to stay. At the very least he will be returning this time and he tells them that before he goes and boards the bus to take him to the airport for appearances sake.

On the plane he glances out the window and wonders if they’ll still miss him the same once Bruce is back or if they’ll just discard him again once there’s no longer a place missing in the family.

Tim still doesn’t know.

—————————-

After getting back to Nanda Parbat to face down Ra’s he’s greeted with a frantic swarm of servants dragging him down the hall away from where he can hear terrifying roars and snarls and crashes coming from.

It could only be Ra’s, and Tim realized he was right when he walks into the stone room containing the lazarus pits and Ra’s is thrashing and howling in rage. Rage at Tim for thinking he could leave without his permission, or that he would take his hospitality for granted like that.

Ra’s had gone completely mad once he realized Tim was gone and couldn’t be calmed down until they had found him again. Tim had had enough of this

Ra’s had treated him nothing but coldly and contemptuously since he had requested he come to nanda parbat, and tim was boiling with enough rage to raise the temperature around him.

Ra’s seemed to notice this and only got more angry at tim, and he lunged at the smaller dragon without warning to fling him by the neck into a nearby wall, tim staggered to his feet and threw himself at ras, using his small side to his advantage as he scrabbled over the larger dragon leaving deep bites and scratches as he went, and just as ras lunged towards him with open jaws as he was tossed from his back, tim finally opened his jaws and let loose the flame he had been holding back for the last 16 years. It stuck to the sides of Ra’s face and ate away at the scales and flesh like some sort of potent acid as he shrieked and writhed in agony as Tim watched.

Figured he didn’t know that Tim could do that.

Serves him right.

Tim watched until the bleached white bones showed through more than flesh and then left, the lazarus pits couldn’t repair that kind of damage and he knew it. Tim figured it was time to pack up and go home.

It was time to try and be with his family again.

———————

Two days after Bruce was returned they got the news of Ra’s death. Talia had been the one to step up to become Demon’s head instead of Damian, and she filled the role better than Ra’s ever had.

Damian wasn’t handling it nearly as well and Tim kept finding him listless about what to do now that he wouldn’t be the demon head, until he started really pursuing a life with the Waynes.

Nobody else knew what had happened at Nanda Parbat, nobody else was in the base at the point of Ra’s death, except Tim And Ra’s and Ra’s had killed most everyone that had known about tim and who he was.

Bruce was actually glad to have Tim back and thankful about how he had helped get him out of the time stream.

The others never got over being happy that Tim was back either, even Damian grew to actually seem to like his company after a while. alfred told him that it was because they all actually considered him part of the family, which only drew him deeper into the family circle the more often they would repeat it to him.

Everything was good, everyone was together, and Tim was happy.

They still didn’t know about him and Bruce was still adamant about not allowing metas in the city. Sometimes when a meta rogue would slip into the city Bruce would go out to take care of them personally just to reinforce the assumption that metas weren’t safe in Gotham. That meant Tim wasn’t safe in gotham either

But that was fine. He didn’t have to tell them and they didn’t have to know. everything would work out in the end, even if tim has to hide in his skin the remainder of their natural lives. He has forever after all.

And Tim is great at lying.

[pinkydevil16]

Sunshine Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader; part 5

"Whose my handsome baby." Y/n smiled as she scratched at Cannibal's chin, him huffing at her calling him a baby.

"You love it don't be so rude." She giggled at him, Cannibal closing his eyes resting his head gently down tilting as to indicate he wanted to be scratched more. No one could understand how the great beast let her claim him, he had slaughtered so many who tried in his long lifespan as well as killing and eating many dragons. And yet everyone watched far away as the princess of only 13 laid against the dragon, scratching the underside of his chin and speaking to him as though he were a house cat. She spent most her days with her dragon now Aemond was preoccupied with his duties, she had learnt her septa would not follow her down to the dragon pit so as long as she stayed there, she could do as she pleased. 

Aemond was learning everything he could to be the best suit for the throne, his brother too busy drowning himself in wine and whores. His older sister pushing out heirs two years after their marriage although everyone knew Aegon only visited when he was drunk and lonely. He sighed as he laid in bed, his mother had scolded him for always sleeping in Y/n's room, it was inappropriate for a young lady and could ruin her for marriage prospects. He did not care for the idea of her being married to some disgusting lord who would pump her full of children and demand more land in return for them. He despised how everyone watched his sister as she grew to be a young woman, she was his twin, they were made for each other not to be shared with those who did not appreciate her. As he began to fall asleep Aegon stumbled into his room.

"Get up brother i have something to show you." He slurred pulling Aemond from his bed. The two walked the streets, Aemond irritated as he was dragged by the older boy but curious as to what he wanted. Approaching a large building Aemond rolled his eyes as Aegon knocked. A lady in sheer clothing smiling at his brother before letting the two in. Aegon requesting their finest woman to attend to his brother, Aemond scowled at two women hung off his arms

"Time to get it wet brother." Aegon laughed as he hurried the three into a room and taking his leave to have his fill of whores. Aemond did not know what to do as the women taught him how to please a woman and himself, his thoughts full of Y/n.

When Aemond finally managed to drag Aegon from the whore house he threatened his brother to never speak of it, Y/n could not find out he did not want her to think of him as she did Aegon. She did not think of him badly, truly she did not see anyone as awful, but she was aware of his activities. Aegon would ask her to join him sometimes in his drunken stare but she would only smile and help him to bed. Whispering sweet things and showing him the love and affection he craved from his mother. The two were not close but she held a pure brotherly love towards him, seeing him much how she saw her dragon, lonely and wanting to be loved. Aemond never understood how she saw him for anything but a drunken fool who wanted her to warm his bed but Aegon had never touched her. 

Taglist:

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[honey-minded-hivemind]

Okay, what about a regular Dragon AU? Where the mutants are all dragons, and dragons are the AUs equivalent to mutants, and it's partially a fantasy/sci-fi Earth/Terra?

So, dragons can be born to humans, but they'll turn into a dragon when they're older, or if trauma forces them to change early. Signs of the change include odd scales popping up, slitted pupils, growing sharper teeth, maybe even the beginning nubs of horns or wings or a tail...

Dragons have been killed for their scales and teeth and blood and organs in the past, and while it is outlawed in most areas, it still happens, it's just kept hushed up by the greedy nobles and kingdoms and scientists. Dragons have been captured to be beasts of burden, used for weapons of war and destruction and fear, the younger ones would even be captured to be "pets".

The older platonic yans are the sort who don't like humans. At ALL. And would happily eat them, burn their villages and cities down, and/or use the survivors as servants and slaves, hypnotizing then or forcing them into a village or hidden kingdom where the original humans worshipped dragons. The older platonic yans would be different types of dragons, all with different powers and sizes and species, and the youngest age to he considered an adult would be about 2,000 years old. The older dragons (in regular X-Men media were about 200 or older) would be closer 20,000, if not even older...

So yeah. Reader, if they are a teen by human years, is a wee hatchling, a baby, by dragon standards. So... normal dragon ages are like this:

• Egg/Fetus: unhatched dragon; takes about 50 years to incubate an egg; if the dragon is born to humans, then they are born human, but have dragon blood, thus still being a dragon, just not being born as one

• Baby: newly hatched/born/birthed dragon, be they in dragon or human form; are considered a baby until about 500 years old, and go through the process of growing and losing three sets of baby teeth; shed their scales every five years to replace the worn baby ones; slowly develop the beginnings of their powers

• Teen: when a dragon is about 1,300 years old, they are considered a teen; they start to grow adult teeth; start to grow their permanent scales; start to develop their powers; start learning to fly (they still will shed scales and regrow teeth, but the adult ones start to come in at this time)

• Adult: the dragon is 2,000 years old, and their dragon form should be big enough to be near impossible for a human or a small group to capture; they will be able to fly without as many breaks or assistance; can hunt large prey from as big as moose to as big as small whales; are old enough to find their own territory; old enough to start "dealing" with humans without without fear

Different types of dragons include:

Wyverns: two wings, two legs

Dracous: two wings, four legs

Sauurous: four wings, four legs

Insectine: four wings or six, six legs, possibly more than two eyes

Serpentus: long body, no wings, two arms

Wyrm: long body, two wings, two arms

Different magics can be anything from mind control to venom to fire-breath to thunder-making to bioluminescense... Even such powers as rain-summoning to ice-breath to jewel-tracking...

Reader, be they an egg-born dragon or not, would have a lot to survive, and a lot of potential places to go and dragons to meet...

[writingsofwesteros]

Hey, loved your one-shot! Are you still taking requests? Might I suggest one where 'you' is Daemon's valyrian paramour and has 3 kids with him already, all sons, while he refuses to get it on with Rhea. Also, they're celebrating their third kid claiming a wild dragon against king's permission. Like they just hopped on a wild one and flew off. What can anybody do abt that? So the king's struggling to have even 1 son but you 2 out here popping dragonriders right and left! Maybe hints of a 4th?

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

“I thought I told you not to run off.” You called after your eldest son of 11 years as he raced into the opening for his dragon. His laughter echoed around and you could only smile as you watched him. His smaller dragon that still had a lot to grow just like your son moved over to greet him.

“But mama…dad’s coming home.” He babbled over to you, pointing at the sky. “I hope so. Your brother will be hungry.” You hummed even as you slightly worried about your second son riding with his father. Your 2 year old was dozing on your chest as you swayed in the beautiful silk dress Daemon had gifted you.

Your fingers moved through your sleepy baby’s bright blonde hair as you whispered a lullaby for him. “Just be careful.” You called out; you knew the dragons would never hurt their bonded but you couldn’t help but worry. He climbed onto his dragon and just sat there; gently stroking his scales. He really was such a gentle soul; you couldn’t be prouder but you knew your middle son had his father’s tendencies and temper. You moved towards his dragon and gently stroked his face. The dragon huffed and nudged into you. “Hmm, not as fierce as you’d have us believe, are you.” You hummed and the beast only gently nudged you some more. 

A soft cry caught your attention as your baby boy slowly began to wake up. “Shhh, you are okay.” You whispered and kept him close. You always had been so protective of your children; you knew the stares you got. The king was struggling to have a male heir and here you were with three boys. You always feared retribution and the stares seemed to be more now, especially after the dragon was claimed by your son. Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud screeching of an adult dragon. Your baby was fully awake now as you both looked up into the sky. Your heart warmed at the sight.

It really was heartbreaking when Daemon had to go to the vale. You hated it. You knew he never bedded her and there was no love but he had duties. Duties that kept him from his family for months at a time sometimes. You always feared he would find someone else but a decade into your relationship; and he always came home. You softly patted your son’s dragon before helping him off the creature in a skilled manoeuvre whilst you kept a hold of the youngest. “Dad!” Your son cried and raced over to him. Caraxes huffed in greeting before he settled down to rest. You wrapped your arms around your returning son and pressed a soft kiss to his head as he placed a kiss to his baby brother.

You watched the brother’s reunite as Daemon made his way over to you and pulled you into a soft, loving kiss that took your breath away. “I’ve missed you.” You softly whispered, brushing your noses together. He rested his head on yours for a moment as his eyes closed. “Missed you more.” Your baby boy moved and tugged on Daemon’s locks for some attention, which he was so happy to give. He picked him up from your arms and placed him above his head. “Aren’t you growing?” Daemon hummed before pressing a kiss to his temple. It had been a month since you last saw your husband.

“Is everything good?” You softly asked, moving into his side as the two boys played in the water. Daemon hummed; nodding his head as he rested it on your shoulder. You found yourself playing with his hair as your baby only burrowed into his neck and slept. “They’ve treated you well here?” Daemon asked, his tone hiding his temper.

“As best as they ever will.” You softly replied, looking up as the guards made their rounds. “Do you think we should leave and live somewhere else?” The question fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Why..what’s wrong?” Daemon lent from you now as he locked eyes with you. “Has something happened?” “No..no, nothing has happened.” You babbled out and called your sons over in hopes of distracting Daemon. It worked but you knew he would ask again. “Come on then, you must be hungry.” You ruffled their hair and took their hands but not before your oldest raced to say goodbye to his dragon.

Thankfully, your baby continued to distract Daemon as you walked through the halls but you knew he noticed the stares as well. Your hand moved over your stomach in a subtle manner. You hoped to leave before it would be known. The Queen had just given birth again to a stillborn; a daughter too. You thought you’d be able to get to your chambers but it seemed Viserys had other plans as he moved to welcome his brother. You could see the hunger in his eyes as he saw the baby boy in Daemon’s arms and the same hunger was there when he looked at you. “So good to see you back.” The king hugged his brother.

They whispered and you moved to distract your sons and softly moved them into your shared chambers. “Here you go.” You gave them bowls of fruits and a new book as you watched them run off to the window where they could see the dragons. You chewed on your bottom lip nervously. It seemed like hours went by before Daemon returned to the room. His body is more tense than before but his touch is still so soft on you. “What did he say?” You whispered and cuddled into him. “The court is talking; whispering as they always do.” Daemon gently stroked your back before placing the still sleeping baby in his bed.

“About what?” You only grew more concerned as your eyes looked at the two boys snacking away. “About me legally marrying you…our sons becoming the heirs to the throne.” He whispered into your ear. “What..” You snapped your head to him; surely you were hearing him wrong. Daemon only smiled; his eyes dancing in delight as you tried to make sense of it all. You reached for his hand and moved it to your stomach. “I’m pregnant again..” You softly admitted; blushing even more. It was Daemon’s turn to be shocked as his eyes widened. “Really?” He whispered and gently stroked your stomach. He leaned in and passionately captured your lips with a moan. He really was blessed and now he would have his throne and queen..what more could he want?

“You really deserve a reward.” He purred into your ear and left you wanting for more as he moved to see his sons off to their rooms.

TAGLIST

@janelongxox

@writerslove2403

@opheliax98

@ivanna6026

[pandemonium-kidz]

Ninjago AU - The Writings on The Wall

|| Incorrect Quotes || Character Profiles ||

Still working on it so y'all get my notes :3

Premise and everything under the cut.

Feel free to ask any questions about it.

Premise.

The Merge happened at least 100 years ago, back when Garmadon and Wu were still relatively young.

Garmadon left the monastery after some difficult time with his father, only writing every now and then to let everyone know he was still alive. Wu stayed at the monastery.

Garmadon is on a quest to find the Dragon Cores, Wu too tho he's still mainly stationed at the Monastery, they don't know what the other is doing. Here is where the merge happens.

Wu gets visions and scrolls about something similar happening 100 yrs later so he's on the move to find them again, he's also training a Ninja team to protect the Crossroads.

Garmadon has been traveling around still in search of the dragon cores, but on the trip he ends up adopting a bunch of kids he decides to raise (he also has Lloyd) so he moves to the Crossroad too.

And chaos ensues.

The Groups and Ages

Garmadon Kids aka Pandemonium Kids

Skylor Chen - 16yrs old Kai Jiang-Smith - 15yrs old Morro Wojira - 14yrs old Nya Jian-Smith 13yrs old Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon - 9yrs old Wyldfyre Wyrven - 5 yrs old Heatwave? - MIA

+1 - Harumi Jade- 10yrs old

Wu's Kids aka The Ninja

Zane Julien - 17yrs old? Cole Brookstone - 17yrs old Jay Walker - 16 yrs old Pixal Borg - 16yrs old Arin Spinjitzu - 6yrs old Sora Nekomata - 7yrs old Riyu - Baby dragon

Both Garmadon and Wu are over 150 yrs old. Misako is around 60.

World/Realms notes

Ninjago - Humans mainly

Wyldness/Chima - Beast-like/Weres body structure

Imperium - Cyberpunk

Departed - Ghosts keep the form of what they killed them (Stabbed will have the stab wound in the open for, decpaitated will have a floating head, etc)

Onis and Dragons - Dragons are western-like looking [Dragons, Wyverns, Drakes, Wyrms, etc], Onis (same as canon) hunters are dieselpunk based.

Cloud kingdom - Angel-like imagery

Never realm - Formlings behave like shapeshifters [Can shapeshit onto their animal fully or partially, also have a "beast" form"]

Underworld - Skeletons and "hell-like" image

Djinjago - Same as canon?… maybe

Realm of Madness - Think of it like evil Alice in wonderland [So like, American McGee's Alice or IB]

Realm of Lee - TBD, maybe Candy-based, no info has been given about this one

Realm of Mysteryum - TBA

Species notes

Serpentine are more like Lamias/Medusa/Naga looking

Geckle - Same as canon

Munce - Same as canon

Merlopians - Similar to canon, some folks look more like mermaids (Also take inspiration from Zoras/Zelda)

Sky Folks- Similar to canon, (some inspiration from Rito/Wind Waker-Zelda)

Craglings - Same as canon (Golems)

Djinns - Same as canon?

Formlings - Shapeshifter similar to canon (Human form, Anthro & Feral forms, Beast/Were form)

Characters notes

Jay & Skylor are "Half Serpentine" through magical transformation

Morro & Cole are half-ghost "Danny Phantom" Style

Zane & Pixal are androids (Similar to canon)

Lloyd, Kai & Nya are part dragon

Kai & Nya are 1/4 dragon (lyndwyrm); 1/8 Merlopians; 1/8 Keepers and 1/2 human

Lloyd is 1/4 Oni 1/4 dragon and 1/2 human

Wyldfyre is half-dragon (Wyvern)

Harumi and Arin are full humans

Sora is human w cyberware

Euphrasia is angel-like (Cloud kingdom resident)

Geo is half munce and half geckle like canon

Morro & Euphrasia are both wind elementals (Morro has an easy control over Sea and Land breezes, Euphrasia has a better control of Mountains breezes)

Garmadon- 1/2 Oni and 1/2 Dragon- More Oni-Like looking (Looks like a Gargoyle)

Wu-More Dragon Looking (Humanoid Anthro style)

Extra Notes

Dragon hunters have a noticeable hold on the Black Market, Imperium is one of their most regular clients (Beatrix and Ras specifically)

Imperium is hunting both dragons and elementals.

The Crossroads is situated around Ninjago city, with Ninjago city serving as the "heart" of the whole place, you could explore the whole crossroads if you just drive in circles. (Will take you some time tho)

[captainjacklyn]

Malleus Draconia x Dragon!Yuu Part 2 :

Context : Yuu wakes up to see a strange raccoon with a very much irritating voice. They are absolutely confused and unsure of what to do, looking around they need to figure out where they are. During the exploration they end up bumping into a masked individual.

Tag List : @candlewitch-cryptic

Warning(s) : none really, grim being a little bundle of annoyance, if I missed anything, please notify me.

Prologue [A new world ?!] - Episode 1 :

"AH- ! WHY ARE YOU AWAKE ?!" the moment Yuu opened their eyes, the weird tanuki-like-creature was startled, including them. "A room with...floating coffins ?!" yuu exclaimed, shocked to find themself in an environment completely different to their previous one, their eyes darted all around the room searching for signs of some sort of illusion. It took them a second to realize that their horns, scales and tail were missing as well, [I..I'm in human form ?! But- who could've done this..]

"HEY ! DON'T IGNORE ME !"

[!!] they instantly turned around, only to see nothing until they slowly looked down.

"The weird raccoon !" pointing at it in an accusing manner, it was possible for this thing to be responsible for the dragon's situation.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY ?! I'M NOT A RACCON !" the bizarre beast snapped back, it went against the statement, posing a prideful pose as they then threatened them again. "I'm the amazing grim-sama human ! Don't underestimate my power."

[....]

[Well that thing certainly is weird.]

"Anyways, I don't have much time now so give me that coat or else I'll roast ya !" it snapped back and with one big puff, grim was about to summon his infamous fireball but Yuu quickly countered it with one of their own before the fur ball could blow out any flame. "Crk- aah what was that~!"

"You couldn't fight a baby dragon without losing, I'm too big of an adversary for you." they walked over to his somewhat burned and dizzy form, crouching down to pat his head as a comforting gesture before getting up.

"Now...Where is the exit ?"

______________________________________________________________

It had been more than five minutes and Yuu was already starting to consider the option of burning down the establishment to get out. [If I were from the chaos faction, I would destroy this place in an instant..] they groaned as they opened yet another door which wasn't the way out but the toilet instead. Another loud sigh.

[However...I am not, so even if it takes me a hundred years, I will get out at some point...]

"Ah, I found you at last ! Are you the new student ?" another voice came out of nowhere just as yuu entered the library. [Oh in the name of Thor why-]

"You shouldn't do things like that ! Leaving the gates on your own." the bird masked man placed his hands on his hips like he was scolding a mere child. Yuu was about to explain their situation until they were cut off by the sight of the strange man holding Grim.

"Not only that, you have yet to tame your familiar which has broken a number of school rules." he held the feline by the neck and handed it to them. Grim, annoyed with every single person calling him anything but Grim-sama, talked back to this stranger as he tried to wiggle out of his grip, "Let me go ! I'm not their freakin' familiar !"

He wasn't having any of it, but so was the man, "Sure, sure. The rebellious ones always say things like that. Just quiet down for a moment." he placed a hand over its mouth and his attempts at snapping back were now muffled. It almost felt like Yuu was forgotten as they stood there looking at this random guy.

"My goodness..It's unprecedented for a new student to leave the Gates on their own." he whispered to himself in disbelief prior to turning around and facing Yuu. "Now..we're wasted enough time, let's get going to the entrance ceremony !" he grabbed them by the shoulder and began to drag them out of the area until : "Just a second ! Where exactly am I ?"

He stopped midway to look back at them, "What's this ? Are you still dazed ? Maybe the teleportation affected your brain in a certain way.." retracting his hand and placing it on their chin in a thinking manner he took a deep breath in and smiled, "Well then I will explain everything to you on the way there. For I am gracious !"

[...]

[Ok...]

Part 2 done, Part 3 on its way.

[eu-nicola]

vikings x fem!oc

It was going to be with reader but I needed to give it a name

my first language isn’t English and I didn't correct this

summary: vikings brothers have a sister who can control dragons and has powerful magic (anon request)

The baby Freyja had been born with an eye the same as that of a snake with a different color and pupil shape, it was thought that it was because of her ancestors and that it was a way of proving that in the future she was going to be a strong and powerful as her father was. And they weren’t wrong.

In one of Ragnar's trips he found a somewhat strange egg, larger than a normal one with scales and green in color, he took it and took it to his sweet daughter, this was going to be the compensation gift for being gone so long. The day her father returned home the little girl was playing away from everyone while they were looking for her, she didn't care and continued with her game because she thought it was funny how she could move the twigs in the air and throw them far away she even try to try with a big stone but it was too big for someone so tiny.

When they finally found her, her mother didn't realize what she was doing, she just told her it was time to stop playing and took her inside so she could see her father, he welcomed her with open arms and a kiss on the cheek. When the girl began to ask him a thousand questions about where he had been he immediately smiled and took out his gift, Freyja was surprised to see her new gift, it was beautiful for her.

Over time the girl realized that it was not a normal egg and saw a small dark green dragon come out of there, just like its shell, she loved this but she did not want to tell anyone because it was her secret, it was her dragon and if she said so maybe they would want to take it from her and she didn't want to, so she decided to hide it in a cave that she had seen once with her father and brothers not so far from the place but that no one ever went to.

Months passed and even in such a short time the dragon had grown immensely, Freyja, only 6 years old, escaped every day without anyone seeing her and brought the dragon something to eat, she always convinced a prisoner to follow her and she took them there for the dragon she had called "Arrax", certainly she was never afraid to take a prisoner because she knew that they couldn't do anything to her because she had her dragon taking care of her.

One morning Freyja was trying to get a prisoner and escape but for the first time her brothers saw her and instead of telling her something they just followed her to the cave with the prisoner being sure that the man was not going to do something before they killed but it was not necessary because they were surprised when they saw the dragon eat the man in one bite. Immediately the girl noticed the presence of her brothers and smiled at them as if what she had done was a little game. "brothers", the little girl yelled, she came to hug them and at that moment Freyja introduced Arrax to them and she tell them that he was a good pet and very pretty, when her half-brother Bjorn wanted to push her away, she immediately made him fly away the air raising it as she had once done with that twig but now she had been able to do it with it.

"Don't try to take me away from Arrax again." she told them.

At first everyone was so surprised at the beast that even they who are not afraid of anything for a moment were afraid of the dragon. For now no one was going to say anything but maybe in the future when his sister became a woman they would be able to use the dragon for their own purposes. Without speaking they all looked at each other and it seemed that they agreed even Freyja herself that she was already eager to ride the dragon and feed it with her enemies.

[pookacangetit]

So i recently re watched Raya and the last dragon and i was wondering if the ending song count as a Disney song ? Like Yuu randomly singing the song and the next thing people know Dragon (Southeast Asian kind) sightings are all over the news.

There has been sightings of strange creatures in Twst several times now- looks at the recent tsum tsum invasion- but a song to summon such creatures? If Yuu wasn't widely known for their endless patience and do-gooder attitude NRC would've assumed it was another invasion.

But Yuu is currently out of commission, so who is singing?

MASTERLIST

"We just dealt with the tsum tsums." Jack looked half-dead as he tiredly stared up at the gloomy skies, the grey clouds looking as though a downpour could occur at any minute now.

He had no problems with the rain, those flying snakes currently in the sky however...

Without looking, the first year harshly slapped Ace and Deuce on the back of their heads, "You idiots, weren't you suppose to help Yuu?"

"They don't need to be babied you stupid mutt!" Ace snarled, yet the concern in his eyes never dimmed as he stared at the eye of the storm- the Ramshackle dorms.

Jack merely looked unimpressed, "Yuu can take care of themselves, sure, but you two should've looked out for them as their closest friends."

"STOP ARGUING AND GET INTO YOUR DORMS!!" A senior shouted as he ran pass them, "IT'S A DARK MOUNTAIN ALERT!"

Deuce finally spoke, "Fuck."

Hypothetically speaking, what happens when you have a sick Ramshackle prefect with unimaginable powers mixed with the untold tiredness of being a 'beast tamer' and the effects of lost songs?

Unmitigated chaos.

Ẉ̶̛̺̙ě̴͇͆ ̸̧̧͎͠h̴̨̙̦̓a̷̞͚̔̏v̵̗̪̯̈́͝è̸̥̜ ̵͉̖̚͠a̷͎̿ ̶̧̢̤̒́c̸̝̞̭̽ḧ̷̨̦̕o̵̬͋̉ì̴̡̢̄͘c̸̲̒̌̏ẻ̷̢̘̳ ̷̈̂͜͠t̵͎͓̩̏o̶͙̣͜͝~

̸͎̲̂B̶̻͌u̴̧̇i̶̝̘͓̍́l̵̢̤̩͌̔̑d̶͚̪̱̄ ̷̳̓̈́̌o̸̥̔͆̈́ͅr̴̬̳͆̿ ̸͇͈͉̅̏̑d̴̖̒ĕ̵̢͓̹͝s̸͚̅́͋t̶̛͉̺̔̄r̵͉̞̙̓õ̵̖͉͐͠y̷̺͇̮͌̀͌ ̷̛̪̻̌t̶̨̙̔̈́͝ọ̵̓͂~

̵̱̭̂̌F̷̨̞͂͆̋ì̸̔͜g̶̨̜͐h̵͇͎̤͐̽͝t̷̨̛̼̤̃ ̸̳̣̀̒͛o̷͖̽̈̅͜r̶̙̱͛ ̶͓̮̯̐t̵̙̯̚o̵̟͊ ̵̠͓̓͒ć̵͉̈̄ö̸̧̡́̈́m̸̖̖͆e̶̛̝̒̚ ̶̭̊͠t̵̥̲̥͂͗̚o̶̱̊͝g̵͈̭͇̎̌ė̴̯͗t̶͇͋h̵̪͂̍̄e̸̜̙̋̉͊r̶̹̅̅͝~

"Just to be clear, that is not the prefect singing." Ace stated, just as the sky filled itself with booming roars and colourful snakes flying around a swirl of disorientingly bright light.

The singing got louder, discombulated as Jack strained himself to listen- "Don't pay attention to the singing!"- but the words sound wrong; the voices sound wrong; the disjointed whispers told him to listen and get closer to the door-

What door? He was standing outside of his dorm and there was no door in sight except for the strange beam of light and the creatures surrounding it.

Jack felt a weight on his back as pain erupted from his neck, "THAT IS NOT YUU SINGING!"

L̶͙̓o̷̢̓ṿ̶̏ë̸̜́ ̸̦̎ȉ̶̟s̴̟̀ ̶̪͝a̶̛̦ ̴͈̓b̴̛̖ȓ̷̤i̴̥͝d̵́ͅğ̵͔ě̴̤ ̶̬̆ǎ̸͜n̵͎̾d̴͈́~

̴̢̚T̴̝̚r̷̖̋u̶͍̾s̵̢͘t̷͖̾ ̶̱̕ï̷ͅs̷͙̄ ̸̭̎a̶̛̹ ̸͇̀g̵͚͊i̴̋ͅf̵̈́͜t̶͎͘,̷̣͗ ̶̼͝w̴͎̉ẻ̴̙~

̵͙̈́Ĝ̶̡ỉ̶͍v̶̬͌e̵͎̊ ̷̮͛ḯ̸̱t̶̢̛ ̵͍͋a̵̚ͅn̸͕̂d̴̗̓ ̶̫̋i̵̠̎t̸̫̽ ̶̝̀g̵̨͛è̶̺t̶̜͐s̴͙͐ ̵̥̓b̷̼̋é̸̡ţ̷̽t̸͙͆e̸̞̐r̴͂͜~

Dainty yet rough hands grabbed Jack's face, pulling him down to meet Epel's determined eyes, "- we gotta go now 'fore we get stuck here, now MOVE!"

The further Epel led him into the dorms, the less pressure Jack felt wrapped around his head- strange, there wasn't one before... before what?- yet the voices remained strong.

W̵͓̊h̵̝̓e̷̙̋n̵͖̉ ̴̳̈́ẉ̷̆e̷͚̊ ̵͑͜j̶͖͗ṳ̸͗s̵̼̐t̶̩̀ ̵̘̈́t̵̳͌r̶͚͋u̵͓̽ŝ̴͍t̶̮́~

̴̺̊T̷̘̎r̸̠̄u̶̮͋s̵̘̕t̵̪́ ̷̯́â̴̹n̷̼̆d̵͔̄ ̷̦͂b̸͍́e̷͉͑l̵̮̀î̴͕e̸̥̚v̸̞̔é̵̘ ̵̙̕i̷͍̋t̸̩̀~

̷̥̀Y̶̼͝ȏ̷̹u̷̖̎'̷͙̅l̷̫̀l̸̙̎ ̸̩͊ș̷̎ẽ̸̲e̸̡̾ ̸̙́t̶̻̽h̴̍͜a̸̮͠ṯ̴̂,̴͎̍ ̶̭́w̴̛̱e̴̡̾'̵̩̏l̷̜̒l̶̝̔ ̵̙͋l̴̛̪ê̶̹a̶̪̍d̸̦̒ ̷̞͒ț̴̕h̷̖̑ē̵͉ ̶͕͐w̵̨̃a̶̮̎ỵ̶̑~

Yuu: *gets sick and passes out*

The Voices: W̵͙̍é̸̝ ̷̗͐d̷̻̈o̷͇̅n̸̝̿'̸̞̊t̴̬̀ ̸̜́l̵̖̀ï̴̘k̷͙͝ẻ̶̹ ̸̰̑t̸̬̀ḫ̵̂ǐ̷̤ṣ̶̆ :/

The Voices: *eldritch abomination shennenigans ensures*

[genshrineimpact]

I honestly feel like at some point when zhongli and the god!reader where younger they both found a half baby dragon that looks like the two of them when they where both walking through a forest together ,and they probably also took care of the baby!?

awwww! i love this idea yes yes yes it gives me the found family trope!!! <3 <3

⬙⤠ masterlist ⤝⬙

personally i headcanon that the god of war!reader's mythical beast form is a white tiger instead of a dragon!

In Chinese art, the white tiger often appears with the dragon. The white tiger symbolizes power and army. Therefore, many things named after the white tiger in ancient times are related to military affairs, such as the white tiger flag in ancient army and the symbol that can command the army.

The White Tiger represents the Chinese element of metal. In Chinese culture, the tiger was seen as the king of the beasts. It was believed that a white tiger would only appear when there was true peace throughout the world.

Tiger symbolism is also frequently used in military settings. A brave and skillful general, for example, is known as a “虎将 (hǔjiàng, tiger general).” Those who walk with a majestic or imposing gait are described as “龙骧虎步 (lóngxiāng hǔbù, walk with dragon and tiger steps);” a term mostly used to describe military generals.

it just fits so well, and i can confirm while the dragon zodiac is the one that's most sought after by chinese parents, the tiger zodiac is just as popular!

but let's roll with the general idea - you both find a seemingly abandoned dragon hatchling, and morax is the first one who reacts because he himself was 'abandoned' by his parents in the past. and so you both agree to take the baby under your protection, especially since it could be that the baby was left there because of the archon war, in which case you feel a sense of responsibility to make sure they're taken care of.

you would be very awkward at first in handling the baby! you've never really taken care of such a young one before, and you fear that your bloodstained hands will taint something so pure. morax of course tries to persuade you, saying that his own hands have taken many lives before, yet the hatchling is happily clinging to him and trying to chew on his fingers. so you try holding it once and you're blown away by how small and soft and warm they are.

soon enough, you're completely smitten.

your adeptis and retainers and generals watch in awe as you start attending meetings with this small dragon perched on your head or sleeping on your arms. it's very adorable, don't get them wrong, but seeing you both together just... didn't click to them.

well, at first.

until one day, baby started teething and accidentally bit your finger a little too hard, and they drew blood. and the whole room freaks out, because your skin is supposed to be stronger than steel and the only time you would bleed is if you take serious damage from another god, or when you've completely let your guard down for some reason.

but you only look at the small dragon, sigh, and proceed to use the sleeve of your robe to wipe off the blood on their tiny fangs. morax stands up and pulls out a roll of bandage, skillfully wraps your finger, and places a kiss on it. everyone rolls their eyes.

so just like how everyone gets used to you smiling whenever morax is around, they also get used to you carrying this tiny little thing, sometimes in human form (they always pick a form that's a cross between you and morax's human forms) and sometimes in their dragon form (some days they're wrapped around your torso and other days they're a tiny dragon nestled on top of your head).

and yes, you both still carry the dragon around and call them "hatchling" even when they're like, hundreds of years old. lol

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