#but most of the time that man is Improv King

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Alina Starkov - the most inconsistent main character. A tragedy of not wanting to have an identity.

The main character in Shadow and Bone trilogy, a prime example of "she deserved better". A.k.a. soldier, Sun Summoner, Sun Saint. In reality, a false saint and a false hero, who has less personality, goals, spine and consistency than her three love interests. How did this happen? Short answer - bad writing. Long answer? Here we go.

Her character at the beginning - a blank slate.

Physically small and weak, sickly, fragile, with a sour face and sourer attitude. Grew up in an orphanage funded by a Duke, who they were taught to basically worship while looking down on religion and beliefs in saints. Children in the orphanage were beaten if they misbehaved or didn't do chores, but were given education and fine food, which means they were faring better than peasants and farmers. Alina had not many, but several options in her life. She could learn a trade that would not require physical labour, like sewing. Or, she could marry and hope her husband was gracious enough to buy a donkey instead of making her carry heavy sacks of salt on her back, as we see a random man do to his wife. But Alina had no hobbies, interests, aspirations or ambitions in her life. Except her childhood friend Mal. Mal gets a mandatory draft in the First Army, and of course Alina follows, and settles for being a mediocre cartographer. Mal thrives in the army, showing off muscles and hooking up with women, while Alina dutifully waits for him saints know why. She doesn't have other genuine friends, she doesn't like people, she doesn't like anything. This is not a bad start in a sense that there is much room for growth and improvement.

Refusing to belong

Alina discovers she's a long awaited sun summoner, who can vanquish the Fold and unite Ravka. She doesn't want to be special, but not for the reasons you might think. Instead of fearing the burden of such an important task or genuinely becoming paranoid of being assassinated (she gets over those in five minutes), she just...doesn't want the responsibility of actually being useful for something. She'd rather not have powers at all, and go back to being in a constantly sickly state. She'd rather be tailing Mal like a mouse. Which doesn't make any sense for following reasons:

Alina's insecurities in SaB:

Not being pretty and talented

2. Not being as pretty and talented as Grisha

3. Being an orphan, being unwanted.

Being a Grisha actually solves all those problems for her. She gets prettier and healthier once she stops repressing her powers, has a unique cool power, and a community that cares for her. Plus, the support from important figures in Ravka. In time, she could have a family.

Instead, she refuses to acknowledge she's one of them, doesn't train properly, preferring to cling to her prejudices and make digs at Grisha. She'd rather complain that they're prettier, confident and pampered than acknowledge they are serfs, nothing but glorified servants with no basic human rights. Instead of her superstitions and prejudices being shattered when she starts living with them and realizing what Grisha have to go through, becoming rightfully enraged that her people are being treated this way, she still doesn't feel any empathy. In fact, she still doesn't see the General as a HUMAN BEING WHO MIGHT HAVE FEELINGS, even though he makes time in his busy schedule of running an army to make sure she's comfortable, jokes along with her, listens to her fears and reassures her, etc. Why would he go through the trouble if he was heartless? He's the General of the Second Army, by the King's law, she's his soldier. She is obligated to obey him regardless.

The narrative supports her delusions.

I get missing her friend, I get struggling to adjust, but it's more than that. Alina is getting dragged along from a plot point to a plot point kicking and screaming, as if she has anything better to do. She doesn't have a life, why is she so against of getting one? Once she finally somewhat adjusts to her life in the Little Palace, it turns out Darkling has had malicious intents towards her powers all along! Aha, you were right to be prejudiced, Alina! Now abandon your people, your country, and run!

“He … he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created the Shadow Fold.”

Imagine telling a person who saved your life that he was a soulless abomination, even though you do not know him, and he is still kind to you and reveals as much about him as he can. There is no grooming and manipulation here, it's just called not being a bitch. Darkling tells Alina he's over 120 years old, Alina is an adult, and the damned kiss was consensual. Of course he didn't tell her everything. Even regular people don't reveal their life-long ambitions and deepest childhood trauma to their crush after several conversations. It took Alina months to stop being in denial about being a Grisha, still didn't like being one, you're telling me if Darkling set her down and explained the complex political situation and his plan to overthrow the corrupt monarchy and bring an end to the war, Alina wouldn't jump out of the window?

Alina running away, not confronting the problem, and straight up deciding Darkling was evil incarnate with no evidence snowballed into Darkling deciding she couldn't be trusted and taking more drastic measures. Liberation of his people was on the line and one pesky girl screwed up a carefully planned coup because she couldn't handle her feelings.

False badassery

Throughout the whole three books, every time Alina makes a decision, it's immediately followed by self-doubt, shame and scorn. But no actual objective criticism. We often see variations of "It was foolish, but I didn't care", "I knew it was reckless but I couldn't bring myself to care", but never her actually analyzing why, or deciding not to do something like that again. Her small victories are immediately followed by thoughts on how would others feel about it, even though the person in question isn't even there and couldn't give less of a shit: "Never is it to be said that Ana Kuya didn't teach us manners", "A cheap trick, but a good one. Nikolai would be proud". Ana Kuya was an abusive mother figure, Nikolai was using Alina's status to get the throne. Sure, it's good that Alina is capable of learning useful things from every kinds of people, but she doesn't think "That was smart of me. I learnt that. I'm proud of myself for an accomplishment". She thinks "Is it good? Would they like it? They like things like that, right?". She attaches herself to people that fit her view of "deserving" and helps them, even though it might not be for the best. Extreme lack of self-worth, combined with entitlement.

When Alina hears a rumour Darkling ordered his heartrenders to sew a traitor's mouth shut, she's horrified. Even though that's hardly the worst punishment for a traitor in an army. But when some pilgrims insult Genya, she orders to have their tongues cut out after they're given only one warning. When Alina commits violence at slightest provocation, it's baddass. But when Darkling commits a controlled necessary military act to stop enemies from overrunning the country, it's madness and is falsely labeled genocide. Look up the definition, genocide is what was happening to Grisha.

The Darkling never kidnapped children and put them in the war zone. He only lied to Alina that he did, a clever strategy with no bloodshed. Meanwhile, Alina let her cult fight for her, whose members were brainwashed children, some only twelve years old.

When Alina faces a dilemma or a tense military situation, her go-to strategy is suicide. That is not martyrdom, nor it is badass.

Darkling became a bad person out of good intentions and desperation, Alina is just a bad selfish person.

Desperate people are the ones capable of the worst acts. Darkling didn't go nearly as crazy as he could, and frankly had a right to on behalf of his people.

"Aleksander had marched south with the king’s soldiers, and when they’d faced the Shu in the field, he’d unleashed darkness upon their opponents, blinding them where they stood. Ravka’s forces had won the day. But when Yevgeni had offered Aleksander his reward, he had refused the king’s gold. “There are others like me, Grisha, living in hiding. Give me leave to offer them sanctuary here and I will build you an army the likes of which the world has never seen.”

It doesn't matter how much genocide, prejudice, abuse and dehumanization the Grisha suffered through for centuries all around the world, Alina never bothers to look at the big picture. Her help is only for those who she deems worthy of it.

She attaches herself to people who fit her narrow-minded view of "worthy". She immediately believes Baghra's rather flimsy expose of Darkling, even though the old woman has been nothing but unhelpful to her, only insulting her and beating her. But Alina associates her with her only mother figure, Ana Kuya, another old hag she had a toxic relationship with. And even though Baghra is an immensely powerful Grisha who refuses to help or even lift a finger, or just spit out vital information, Alina coddles her and provides protection. Instead of telling her to fess up the useful information and save her unhelpful comments, Alina looks up to her as a mentor.

When Genya tells her story, Alina feels bad for her, but not bad enough to see things her perspective. She only becomes protective of Genya once she gets mutilated, out of pity. If it was genuine compassion, she would've forgiven and understood her from the start.

Every Grisha has been hunted and shamed for merely existing, almost every Grisha has lost a loved one to war. But Alina pointedly ignores it, because she doesn't personally know and care for those people. Therefore, she doesn't feel empathetic. Because if she feels empathetic, she might start feeling guilty about how she runs away from her responsibilities at every given opportunity. Just look at this passage:

“You know what he plans to do, Ivan.” “He plans to bring us peace.” “At what price?” I asked desperately. “You know this is madness.” “Did you know I had two brothers?” Ivan asked abruptly. The familiar smirk was gone from his handsome face. “Of course not. They weren’t born Grisha. They were soldiers, and they both died fighting the King’s wars. So did my father. So did my uncle.” “I’m sorry.” “Yes, everyone is sorry. The King is sorry. The Queen is sorry. I’m sorry. But only the Darkling will do something about it.”

The Darkling never wanted power for selfish reasons. He didn't want to take over other countries or lift Grisha above regular people. He wanted his kind to have basic human rights. Centuries of diplomacy and servitude only gave him enough power to make a school for Grisha children and save adults from slavery and getting slaughtered by serving nobles. He wanted to use the Fold as a border, to stop enemies from invading whenever they pleased, so he would have the time to save Ravka from collapsing. What has Alina done? Started a civil war, destroyed the Second army and helped put a morally dubious man with no claim on the throne to continue an outdated absolute monarchy tradition.

Alina Starkov was meant to be the sun, but turned out to be a trick of the light.

Every time it felt like Alina was emerging from her cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, embracing her true self, she went back to the toxic situationship and the toxic mindset. The narrative also always struck her down. Every book begins and ends with her being sickly, fragile, missing an essential part of herself. It would be good if it was written differently and showed themes of being disabled or having a chronic illness accurately, but it's not. It started out well. Alina was removed from an abusive environment, found a purpose in life, started loving her newfound powers, outgrew the stupid crush who she was way too dependent on, but it all went downhill from there. And then some. This constant vicious cycle does not fit the theme of growth and improvement, and neither does the ending, where Alina loses her powers and goes back to the orphanage. Once again, she's frail and strange, servants (who she now employs) don't respect her, sneer and make fun of her, while her now husband Mal turns a blind eye. Everything is back to the way it was: Mal thrives, Alina is...there. The ending is supposed to be bittersweet, a couple who survived a war building a new life together, but I don't see the sweet part.

Trick of the light - definition: something appearing different from what actually is as a result of the quality of light.

Darkling wanted her to be a strong Grisha, his equal and balance. Grisha wanted her to be a capable leader, Bataar twins wanted a living saint they could worship, Nikolai wanted a wife interested in Ravka and politics. Alina tried to be all of that, but never really wanted to be any of those, so she half-assed it. Mal wanted the version of Alina who was small and insignificant, because anything more made him insecure, and he got his wish.

Illusion, mirage, spectre.

No matter how much the author tries to tell us that Alina's every problem is Darkling's fault, her thought process and actions paint a different picture. Alina was never mentally healthy and she never addressed or resolved her problems. Growing up in a controlled and abusive environment affected her more than anyone, including herself, wants to admit. I am not a licensed psychiatrist, so I will refrain from officially diagnosing Alina, even though she's a fictional character. I am NOT saying I know for certain that Alina has these, if any, mental problems, but she does have some alarming symptoms. It seems like depersonalization. While her symptoms don't fit into one particular mental disorder, I am reminded of psychiatric infantilism, but it is not a mental illness with symptoms. Psychiatric infantilism doesn't necessarily mean the person acts outwardly childishly. To explain very roughly and simply, it means the psych is not as developed as it should be (even if the person is very smart and clever). It shows in avoiding responsibility or not feeling it at all, problems with social connections, not seeing the big picture and taking it seriously, etc. When Harshaw tells the story of his brother getting brutally murdered by people who hate Grisha, even brash Zoya is appalled and expresses her condolences. While all Alina thinks about is that Harshaw might base his hope of having a better life on her now.

Alina also might have Dependent Personality Disorder, but it's hard to say, since we are never shown her being on her own long enough to see whether or not she can take actually care of herself. But her relationship with Mal, Darkling and Baghra (after she no longer objectively needs them) is weird, to say the least.

She never gains the sense of self or an identity, she refuses to become something, then delivers an inner monologue of accepting her fate and five minutes later goes back on her words. Her willingness to sacrifice her life is never out of thinking of the greater good and future, justice, or patriotism. She just doesn't want to live, especially without Mal, who has been doing nothing but shitting on her. Her titles are slapped on her, and she peels them off. Her personality never really changes. Everything she went through feels like a really bad exchange program she was in for a year, and from which she has learnt nothing.

P.S. I don't hate Alina's character, I just mourn her lost potential.

If you have made it to the end, I salute you, congratulations and thank you. 😊 🙏 ❤️

[ragnarssons]

“din used to be smart and careful idk why he went on mandalore just like that” you mean the din djarin who knocked himself unconcious against a force barrier because he tried to force it not once, not twice, but three times? the din djarin who went head on to save his son who was not yet his son, from the empire, and didn’t think his escape plan through? din djarin who jumped into a krayt dragon’s mouth hoping for the best, being like “take care of my kid” to the first dude he saw, literally 12 seconds before being swallowed? din djarin who walked straight up into a room full of empire officers, trying to avoid having to show his face from a machine requiring face recognition to work?? din djarin who abandoned his not-yet-son in a bar yoloing into the unknown to find an old rebel fighter, hoping that same rebel fighter wouldn’t kick his ass? din djarin who, all too often, leaves his infant son alone in a spaceship (yknow to the point of said son almost crashed the whole ship more than once)? and that’s just some examples.

[queenvhagar]

My perhaps controversial take on the HOTD characters, the GOT characters the writers are trying to mold them into, and the GOT characters they actually most resemble in the books (in my opinion - feel free to disagree).

Disclaimer: these are entirely disconnected series with unique characters, so it's impossible to do what the writers of HOTD seemed to be trying to do in season 1 i.e. mold the characters from Fire and Blood to fit the characters of GOT to try to recreate the success of the early seasons. Given this, I tried to choose one single character analogue from GOT that each HOTD/FB character is most like, but oftentimes the reality is that if any single character from Fire and Blood resembles a Game of Thrones character it is likely that they are a combination of more than one. All of this said, here is who I think the writers are trying to fit certain HOTD characters into vs the character they are actually most like (according to Fire and Blood):

Rhaenyra Targaryen: obviously the show wants her to be the new and improved Daenerys, a protagonist everyone can root for who wants to revolutionize the existing order. In reality, Rhaenyra is most like Cersei: a woman who seeks to use her three bastards to usurp thrones and gain even more power than she already has, all while committing incest with a family member and using her power to punish and silence her enemies. She uses the existing system to raise herself up and keep others below her. She does reach her goal of ultimate power but ultimately she is unable to hold it. In pursuit of holding onto power or gaining more of it, she watches as her children die early deaths. The smallfolk despise her for her methods of ruling. Eventually, she will cause her own downfall and die before her time.

Alicent Hightower: the show wants her to be Cersei, a mean-spirited, jealous woman protecting her problematic children and using her status as queen to put others in their place (they even used Cersei scenes as audition material for the role). In reality, I see Alicent as most like Catelyn - a flawed woman, mother to a king, seeking to further the rights of her son in the hopes of protecting her family from those who would harm them, guided by her own sense of justice, honor, and understanding of the laws of the land (and of course, hyper aware of the bastards in the room). All she wants is her and her children's safety, and she is willing to go to war for it. In the end, however, she watches as every last child is taken from her before she herself dies alone.

Viserys I Targaryen: the show wants us to see him as the ultimate father who loves his child unconditionally and always supports her, and that his view of right and wrong should be what guides the world. In reality, he is most like Robert Baratheon: a weak king unsuitable for rule whose mistakes and complacency lead to civil war after his death. His preoccupation with past events and people, and his role in a former love's demise, leads him to neglect his current wife and their children and make decisions that create long-term issues for his family and the realm.

Criston Cole: as soon as Criston turns away from Rhaenyra, the show wants you to view him as a Meryn Trant type of Kingsguard - a man unconcerned with honor and violently anti-women, more than willing to carry out terrible acts commanded of him. In reality, Criston is like more like Jaime: he seeks to make a name for himself as a knight, guided by his own sense of honor and justice, though he is judged by others as lacking such principles. His devotion to his position on the Kingsguard and his love for the royal family motivates him. Occasionally his self-confidence and delight in goading his enemies can make him appear callous and proud. Although he is not officially the royal children's "father," he has guided and protected them and their mother from early on in the absence of their official father.

Daemon Targaryen: the show wants you to both love and hate Daemon. It seems he should fill many roles that Jaime did - a sword fighter whose swagger and danger mix together, whose dishonorable acts follow him through the world. He acts primarily out of love or his pursuit of it, whether for his brother or his lover and her children. The viewer is supposed to see that deep down he is a good guy, no matter how many characters say that he's not. In reality, I see Daemon as a more capable Viserys III: a man adamant in his family's racial superiority, who believes he and his loved ones should have access to unchecked power because they're better than everyone else. A man who enjoys exercising his power over others and demanding obedience out of fear of his wrath. A man who uses his younger family member to further his own interests without much thought to her own wishes or agency and willing to hurt her if she doesn't act the way he wants her to.

Otto Hightower: the show wants you to view Otto as a new Littlefinger, someone sly about his intentions who uses spies, information, and unsavory methods to take advantage of the ruling family and further his own interests and increase his own power. I see him instead as more similar to Tywin: a Hand of the King seeking to put his family close to the throne in pursuit of legacy and advancing his family's station, a man who arranged for his daughter to marry the king so his blood would sit the Iron Throne and bring his family power for generations, a man acutely aware of the political world and how the game is played and willing to get his hands dirty to play it.

The Strong boys: the show wants you to root for Rhaenyra's perfect, good natured and pure intentioned sons as if they were the Stark boys (mixed with Jon Snow). Raised in a good family, these boys know right from wrong and love each other. Yet some people unfairly think less of them for their birth. In reality, the Strong boys are closest to Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella. Bastards set to inherit positions they have no claim to, they are coddled by their mother and protected from any consequences to their actions. When one attacks another child, their mother demands that the other child's family is punished for their actions (and doesn't even reprimand the child for his role in the conflict). The result is the child has no remorse for the harm done, and the other child's family festers resentment against the child. Some people uncover the truth of their birth and object to their place in the line of succession, and these people are killed for speaking the truth. Eventually, a war is fought to keep them and their mother away from the throne, resulting in all of them being killed.

Aegon II Targaryen: the show wants you to see him as Joffrey 2.0. A man interested in viewing sadistic acts for his own pleasure, who abuses women for his own enjoyment, and who is unfit to rule. In reality I see Aegon as closest to Robb: a first born son reluctant to rule as king once his father dies but who rises to the occasion to try to keep his remaining family safe. A king willing to fight his battles alongside his men, no matter the risk it might pose to him. A king who tries his best to rule but makes mistakes along the way that cost him dearly. In the end, he watches as he loses everything, and he dies young.

[llamagoddessofficial]

time works so strangely in the fae realms........... sometime during your relationship with Nightmare you step through a fairy circle and-- you're in the mortal realm. many centuries before you were ever born. and there's Nightmare... a younger, more volatile Nightmare. and he doesn't know who you are....

There's a legend, at the Winter court. One that's old to the oldest courtiers. A legend that once, a thousand years ago, the famously solitary Nightmare did have lovers. Just as many as his brother, in fact. Until... he just didn't anymore.

Nightmare wasn't always the collected, magnetic King he is today. Long ago, he was a monster, a tyrant drunk on rage and greed - the tales of the rivers of blood he spilled are found in scrolls and tapestries alike. Flickers of his capacity for cruelty can still be witnessed, but they are nothing compared to the bonfires of old. Nightmare was vile thing that would take as he saw fit.

... Then suddenly, one day, he had someone by his side. Someone who knew his true name. They spoke in a strange manner, wearing strange clothes, knowing things that should not have been known. They talked to him in a way others would be killed for. For a single month, they were Nightmare's everything. Then they disappeared without a trace.

Nightmare wasn't the same after they vanished. The hot-blooded stallion had quietened. He went from a vicious maniac to a calm, reasonable King, who focused himself on improving the Winter realm. But he also lost something... a certain vibrancy he had before was gone. He never again took a lover.

... Most courtiers write that story off as an overly romantic retelling of Nightmare simply getting more mature over time, losing his lust for violence and settling into his position. It seemed preposterous that the man famous for treating flirtation like a personal insult would ever be the kind to change himself so drastically for a partner.

... But... you really do match the description of the mysterious newcomer in those legends.

Perhaps you remind Nightmare of that lost sweetheart. How romantic. It's nice to see the King finally happy, at least.

[suempu]

THE EVENING TAX?!?! are you kidding that’s sooooo cuteeee💕 if you have any more Laios as a parter headcanons I’d love to hear them!!!

we first gotta find out “how do i bag this man?” cause he’s HARD to get. this man is oblivious as fuck (when it comes to romance or just interactions in general)

you really gotta put your pants on and tell him straightforwardly.

“laios, i would like to pursue an exclusive, monogamous, ROMANTIC, relationship with you.”

you got him, congrats.

let’s start this with the fact that he’s incredibly loyal. he loves so deeply and he adores with all his heart.

when he loves you, oh he LOVES loves you. laios is a gentle person, but being in a relationship with a person he genuinely cherishes and not some assigned fiancé? this man will give you his all (once he actually knows what to do)

being with him will be bumpy at first. it’s his first time having a partner after all, he doesn’t really know what to do.

in the beginning of your relationship, he might come off as neglectful since he won’t initiate anything with you. this usually results to the party (mainly marcille, with falin helping) lecturing him about romance.

“laios, i’m cold. i heard body temperature can help you keep warm.”

“wait, let me light a fire instead.”

he has no experience at all, so be patient with him. if you express your concerns with him properly, he’ll think of ways to improve and to love you better.

if you crave affection and physical touch, it won’t happen right away. you have to slowly build up your relationship with him.

but, when you’re at that point where you two are comfortable with each other then thats where he really shines as a lover.

he has your traits all observed and noted down. he has a small journal filled with doodles of you, your likes and dislikes. you’re probably the next most interesting thing compared to monsters for him.

laios is very casual and chill. so let’s assume you’ve been together for a while, he will randomly rest his head on your shoulder, or put his hand in yours. thats when you both realize that he actually likes physical touch

he is very caring about your safety whenever you go dungeon crawling, he often places your mats next to each other just to feel closer to you.

while others dislike laios for his density, ehem shuro, you’ve grown to love him for it. he is a very simple man and you can’t fault him for it. plus you think he’s adorable.

once he turns king, he becomes very stressed and busy. one thing he likes to do is to lay his head on you while you read a novel to him out loud. the novel is a monster story of course, he’s still a nerd through and through lmao.

[nebbyy]

Please write a fanfic about King Baldwin IV from KoH, where he fell in love with female reader. The plot is up to you. Please make it a serious love story with slight fluff 🤗🤭

Baldwin IV x reader - Life always comes down to a game of chess

A/N: You have no idea how much I love you anon, this was one of the prompts I already wanted to write omgggg!! For this fic I kinda got inspired by this painting (which, for everyone interested, it’s “La belle dame sans merci” by Frank Dicksee), and you’ll see how and why reading it;)

Summary: King Baldwin IV receives an offer from an Italian nobleman to marry his daughter; unsure of whether to accept or not this compelling offer, Baldwin decides to do what he does best…

Warning: there are some mentions of christianity and religious references along with some hints at the misogynistic ideologies of the time (about the woman being “owned” by the dominant male figure in her life) ((I don’t condone this ideology at all but I thought it’d be fitting to add it anyway to give some accuracy to it)).

Word count: 2637

King Baldwin couldn’t quite wrap his head around you. The day that he was informed of your engagement, he felt himself quite skeptical of the idea of marrying someone. After all, ever since his leprosy had been diagnosed he had to get used to the idea of living a life of solitude, forced into a lifelong chastity, for no sane man would ever marry off their daughter to a leper. With time, he had found solace in nurturing his own knowledge and virtue, elevating himself to a level of wisdom that very few could boast at his young age.

During the following days, the young king's mind was plagued with thoughts, considerations he was making to weigh the choice. The benefits of marrying Lady Y/N were many, first and foremost securing a connection to the land of Italian speakers, allowing for easier trafficking of crusaders arriving in the Holy Land, not to mention the abundance that would be the young lady's dowry. And not only did marrying her mean strengthening the economical side of his reign, but it also meant giving the impression to the public that the king's health condition was improving to such an extent that he considered that to be an ideal time to marry. His most trusted men and all of his advisors kept repeating to him, marrying Lady Y/N would’ve been  comparable to a blessing.

But despite all the benefits this union seemed like it would bring, Baldwin continued to hesitate to make a decision. What left him so undecided was the possibility that this was some kind of deception, a conspiracy orchestrated against him, hidden in the form of the most convenient of marriages. It was up to him to decide whether it was worth taking these risks in favor of the benefits that would come if his concerns turned out to be unfounded. 

Like everything else in his life, this choice came down to a game of chess…

It was this idea that prompted him to make a decision. Baldwin had a messenger called, to be sent to Pisa to give the news to Lord Y/F/N that the king wished to report his decision to him live, at his court. For the lord to arrive it would have to wait, but Baldwin has always been a man of exceptional patience.

Four months passed, when at the dawn of Lent it was announced by a Pisan messenger that Lord Y/F/N and his daughter had come to Acre, and would soon be coming to Jerusalem. Another week passed before father and daughter, riding two white horses and accompanied by an escort of knights arrived at the royal palace.

When he first saw you, Baldwin could have sworn he saw Mary himself. You walked with such grace that you almost seemed to float. Your face looked serene, despite the anxiety that had been devouring you from within ever since the day the invitation from the king of Jerusalem reached you; a blue veil covered your hair, framing your face and falling over your shoulders. You bowed to Baldwin as was proper to do before a king, yet he felt so tempted to interrupt you, prevent you from bowing to him, perhaps even bowing to you himself.

At that moment he felt like Lancelot before Guinevere, completely mesmerized by your beauty, one who seemed more fit to an angel than a woman. But, he gave no sign of his true emotional state; after all, a gorgeous woman does not mean she can be fit to serve as queen. Her answer will be decided when she has had a chance to hear you speak, away from the judgmental stares of the court, free from any influence that might change what you really think.

As the sun shone bright in the sky, the banquet took place inside of the palace. The king excused himself before going to eat by himself in his chambers as usual, leaving his guests in the company of his sisters and his court. Loud chatter filled the room, goblets were raised to get more wine poured, courses flowed onto the set table, a tribute to thank Lord Y/F/N for making such a journey to fulfill the king's request. All this noise, yet in your ears all became quiet when a servant approached your chair, whispering a few simple words, "The king has requested your presence at dinner."

Your blood froze in your veins in surprise, and you could almost feel your father's thrill as you rose from your seat, having the servant guide you toward the king's study. Walking through the halls of the palace, you could do nothing but feel so small in comparison, you almost seemed to disappear, enveloped by the magnificence of everything around you that, if all went well, you would have called your own.

You were brought back to reality when the heavy doors of the king's room were opened by the two guards who stood at his sides. An enveloping fragrance, a mixture of myrrh and frankincense filled your senses with a feeling of serenity, an almost familiar feeling. In the center of the room, a hooded figure, dressed in silk as white as snow. "Come forward, my lady. I apologize for my absence at the table but," she interjected for a moment, rising from her seat and revealing her face-or at least, what was not covered by the veil-"many might find my appearance somewhat...disturbing during a meal." He chuckled a little at that last part. You wondered if irony had become a kind of means for him to soften his own hellish condition. 

As soon as he turned around you could not help but study the appearance of what will hopefully be your future husband. Rumors about his condition had been swirling since the day he was crowned, so you had been prepared to be confronted with a horrifically disfigured man. Instead, although part of his face was covered by the thin veil, it was like an instinct for you to try to study his features. You could vaguely make out the golden hair that adorned his face, although it was covered by the veil. His voice had intrigued you; it sounded so jovial and yet so deep. A melody that sang of the young monarch's endeavors. It intrigued you, you wondered what his lips looked like, whether they matched the sound of his voice.

But what really caught your interest were his eyes. They were blue, but of a color so deep, so intense, it reminded you of tales you had heard about the northern seas, of the waters that dark and deep seemed to beckon sailors, to lead them to drown within them. Likewise you felt mesmerized by such intensity. And you wondered, how much of this would remain the same as his illness progressed.

You recovered from that momentary trance, wasting no time to bow, but this time Baldwin stopped you before you were able to bow more than your head: "Don't bow, please. Such reverences are not necessary here." You looked at him a little dumbfounded, but despite the king's unusual attitude you did not object. He stepped to the side, revealing a finely decorated chessboard, with all the pawns already set in place. "Do you play?" he asked softly, and you finally mustered up the courage to speak "It's been some time since I last did," as you approached the table, taking your seat opposite Baldwin. He took his seat again, and for the first time in your life you found yourself face to face with a king. 

You quickly realised that he had assigned you the white pawns, the small courtesy of moving you first. You took a moment to think of an initial strategy, and moved your first pawn. A horse. Baldwin raised his eyebrows, surprised by your decision. "Aren't you going to move the pawns first?" You kept your gaze on the chessboard, partly out of respect and partly out of fear, still unsure why the king would call you to his chambers, if indeed it was all just to have a playmate. "I always prefer to start with the horse. I like to think that the pawns would be frightened to charge against the enemy without a knight to guide them." You looked up, meeting his eyes that studied you intrigued. Chuckling at what you had just said, you continued, shaking your head slightly, "Forgive me, it was just a silly thought."

"Not at all, my lady," he replied, studying your every detail, "I find it fascinating." It was his turn to move, and as per rule, he moved one of the pawns, the one in front of the queen. "So you think good leadership is better than letting the individual decide for himself?" There was a spark that had lit up in his eyes, something playful. It was clear that you were intriguing him, surprisingly in your eyes, since you had been instructed to stay behind your father's shadow, not to express your thoughts or externalize your ideologies.

Everything had to be perfect, one could not risk the futile mind of a young woman ruining the marriage that would have been so beneficial to her dukedom, but above all to her family. Yet at that moment she felt that expressing what resided in her own mind was exactly what Baldwin wanted from her. Something lit up in her too, and he in turn caught the same spark in her eyes. Could it be that she had figured out the trick...? 

Another pawn moved, it was Baldwin's turn to move again. Your eyes seldom parted from each other, just for that moment necessary to make your own move. "Independence is not always what benefits a man. Certainly, it is tempting, but in moments of indecision it risks leading to oblivion. An infantryman needs a leader, a young man who is lost in the woods needs a hunter to guide him out..." Another move, the white bishop points directly at the black king "...an indecisive man needs an outside opinion to make his decision."

You smiled, and like the sweetest of plagues you infected him too. You had deciphered his little deception. An innocent deception, with the purpose of seeing with your own eyes how you, in a condition so similar to what is the duty of a sovereign, would have acted. 

After all, his life always came down to a game of chess....

"So you understood..." Baldwin whispered, again sitting in his place. For the first time in his memory, someone had managed to leave him speechless. His witty mind seemed to have died out all of a sudden, the knight in him unarmed by the woman sitting in front of him. Maybe the deception wasn’t as occult as he had planned, or maybe this young lady was really able to stand up to him.

You smiled at him proudly, be proud of your intuition but also relieved that your thought had not turned out to be foolish. Your pride had removed from your mind every rule, every admonition that had been given to you from the moment you set foot in the Holy Land; your mind was now like a river in flood, finally free to flow out according to its natural course. "I do not blame you, my lord. I realize that this is a difficult choice for you, and that the factors at stake go far beyond your individual will."

"And what do you think about that?" Your smile acquired a bittersweet scent, and you answered without almost hesitation: "I am only a woman, my will is that of my father and it will be of my husband. My family prays that this role will be filled by you, and for this to happen I have been instructed to be fit to reign at your side."

“That I can clearly see, but what truly urges me is to know what your own will says. If we were to marry, you would be the bride to a wretched man, one whose fate has already been announced by God. My demise won't be far off, you’ll be left a widow in a foreign land. And before this… curse gets the better of me, there is no saying that it won’t get to you too. If it did, you would suffer the same fate I had been given.”

It took you a moment to let his words sink into your mind. He spoke the truth, a future with him would be filled with sickness and uncertainty; you would have to live in a court far from your home, where everyone was waiting for the king’s death like a flock of crows flying above a dying man. You took a deep breath, feeling as everything came down to this very moment. “I won’t lie to you, my lord, the future that awaits me while standing by your side is not an easy one by any means, and I’m very much aware of that. I do not expect my future to be easy, for it would be an excess of greed. So if I can have a saying in my own future, I’d like to say that I would much rather all the time that is given to me by the Lord standing by the side of a man filled with virtue, than by the side of a man too full of himself to see anything just an inch away from his reflection. There would be no greater honor for me than to stand by your side, for as long as you still have to live, my lord. And if I ever was to catch this disease as well, then I would have no other words to say other than God wills it.“

At your words, the young king had to shake himself up, now more than ever necessary for him to say something, anything really. “For you, my lady, I shall always be just Baldwin.” His tone was softer than ever, a soft breeze that reached to you and whispered I am but yours now. It was unsaid, but decided. Once this meeting would be over, the king would come to your father, and confirm his decision to accept the proposal. Only problem was, this meeting seemed to have become endless. What was supposed to be a quick meal, accompanied by a game of chess, turned into a lively exchange of political views, then silly childhood anecdotes, then again into a walk in the inner courtyard of the palace. Baldwin tried hard to keep you in his presence for as long as was deemed decent for an unmarried man and woman. He kept you with him as long as he could, and when that was no longer possible, he led you back into the great hall, gently holding your hand over his. Soon after the announcement of your engagement, the wedding was set to happen during the following Easter, and the banquet made in honor of his guests was prolonged until the sun had been long set, this time in honor of his betrothed.

You think back to that day fondly, as you lay on your bed, in the comfort of silky sheets and soft pillows. One of your hands holds your head while the others traces the patterns of the scars in your husband’s face that have considerably worsened during the years. Aside from the bed, sitting on a table, forgotten as long as the night reigned over Jerusalem, were two crowns, along with two chess pawns. A white queen and a black king. Both came from the set that had been used the day the two of you met, a reminder for Baldwin of the day God had merged your destinies in one.

A/N: wowww that came out longer than I though oopss. ANYWAY, this was my interpretation of your request, anon, hope you like it!! Also, for everyone who’s gonna read this, feel free to leave any constructive criticism since this is my first fic and I would like to improve a looot more in my writing skills. That’s it now have a nice day y’all <3<3

[camlovesjace]

HATE ME; 01 , THE PINK DREAD ! (Jacaerys Velaryon)

Summary (there) Warning: Enemies to lovers, you may hate or dislike some characters, not hate allowed, I AM TEAM BLACK my oc is not so...her ideas/opinions are not mine. Someone asked me to translate my wattpad fanfic Hate Me, (there is the link of the original fic, written by me on spanish, available until chapter 40th on wattpad) so here it is, i hope you enjoy it, i´ll try to post a few more chapters soon xoxo

The birth of Princess Deianira Targaryen was one of the worst days of Queen Alicent Hightower, the birth had lasted hours and had been one of the most complicated for the young redhead. And when the girl gave herself into her mother’s arms, the news reached her that Princess Rhaenyra had given birth to a prince… The two babies were born minutes apart, with Jacaerys Velaryon being the eldest of the two. A boy with brown hair and brown eyes, a bastard in the eyes of the green queen. Instead Alicent’s newborn daughter was an embodiment of Valyrian traits in person, her scarce hair was as pale as snow, and the first glow the queen saw in Deianira’s eyes was amethyst.

King Viserys took the news of the Parthians as a divine sign sent by the gods, and perhaps it was… The man Targaryen went to his firstborn’s quarters, to meet the future heir…leaving his wife and daughter alone for most of the day. When King Viserys finally approached his queen he found a sleeping Alicent, hugging the baby. But he dared not do anything to wake them up. The next day the man ordered the newborn children to share a wet nurse, in order to strengthen their bond and try to repair the growing rift that separated their family. He also offered a deal to the princes' mothers, a betrothal between the two children…so Deianira would be the queen consort and Jacaerys the king, when his time came to rule.

Princess Rhaenyra was more than delighted with the idea, but Alicent refused the offer, unable to even imagine her little daughter in the hands of a bastard. And so the years passed in the red keep… The Green Queen’s hatred for her stepdaughter and ex best friend became as ardent as the flames of a dragon, and whenever her youngest daughter was belittled by the presence of Prince Jacaerys, her tolerance for the bastards diminished. Rhaenyra’s dishonorable continuation of childbearing did not improve the situation. Alicent spent her afternoons talking to her children, warning them about her half-sister and her bastard children, especially to her eldest child, Aegon.

In this way, Deianira cultivated a resentment towards her nephew, Jacaerys. Who stole all the attention of her father, there were even several onomastics where the king forgot his youngest daughter… Without remembering, many times, that both children were born the same day. But the worst of all those days was the morning when Jace and Nira turned six onomastics old. King Viserys, as every year, had made a feast for the future king…but on that occasion, he had not even noticed to congratulate his daughter as well. Deianira watched as her father spent the afternoon playing with the boy and, sitting on the throne, put Jacaerys on his legs. Proclaiming that that would be his seat when he grew up, and that that day was cause for celebration because he was with them.

After that, the relationship between father and daughter only deteriorated, Nira was fed by anger towards her father for months and months, which led her to develop rebellious and violent attitudes. The last straw for the king was when, during an argument at dinner, Deianira threw a fork into Jacaerys' face. Stabbing the tips of the utensil in the forehead and leaving a small scar on his skin. Viserys tried to talk to his youngest daughter, but Princess Rhaenyra told him that she should be severely punished for her behavior towards the future king, which caused a dispute between both mothers…each trying to defend their respective children.

The fight did not stop until Ser Criston interfered, suggesting to the king that the princess could improve her behavior and calm her anger through disciplined training, practicing alongside her older brothers Aegon and Aemond. A proposal that the king thought carefully and ended up accepting. In this way the life of the white haired princess changed completely, she spent every morning training with her nephews and brothers, her afternoons doing recreational activities with her sister Helaena, and her nights reading or learning High Valyrian next to Aemond. Both children were very close, so much so that Alicent thought about brethroting them…but she never did it.

That specific morning the youngest girl was with her older brother, trying to speak in their father’s language with the dragon keepers, the men nodding or denying the questions the princess asked them. It was not until Aegon arrived with their two brown nephews that Deianira’s mood changed.

"Why do these two had to come?" The girl whispered to Aemond, who pinched her upon hearing her.

"Be kinder, they are our family" he told her, and she headed towards Aegon. Nira frowned and approached barely, unwilling to do so.

"Good morning, Deianira" the youngest child said, seeing her aunt walking by her feet, the princess nodded.

"Good morning too, Lucerys" she says and tries to smile, but her grimace gives her away. Then she looks at her eldest brother "Aegon." she says, in the form of a greeting, but ignores Jacaerys.

The brown haired boy rolls his eyes when he sees her attitude.

"Jacaerys is also here, Nira" murmurs Aemond.

"I know…" she says. And then she does not speak again. Jace is angry to see her behaving so childishly, but he does not pay attention.

The princess get into the pit next to the elders, and from the bottom of the huge cave comes the dragon Vermax…a green animal with golden almost orange horns. Apparently it was a male dragon, because every year it grew abruptly, as if it stretched and enlarged when no one was looking. Deianira and Aemond were the only ones without a dragon of their own, the prince’s egg had not hatched and the princess’s dragon had perished a few days after birth, as it was very weak and small…even it´s wings were thin, so thin that if it had survived it would never have been able to fly.

The dragon keepers incited the eldest Velaryon boy to approach their dragon, and he went towards the beast, somewhat fearful. The animal was unleashed and headed for its future rider.

"Call Vermax, Prince Jacaerys" one of the man's indicated , speaking High Valyrian.

"Attention!" Jace exclaimed, but he stepped back as the dragon approached him quickly, as if to attack him "Stop, Vermax!" Jace said, and Vermax obeyed, the man beside him smiled faintly.

"Well done" the elder murmured, then some caretakers brought a small lamb, Deianira opened his eyes as they approached him towards the round.

"Aren’t you going to…?" the girl’s words were interrupted by her older nephew, who ordered his beast to stop because the dragon had turned to the innocent animal. Vermax growled, but he did as it´s rider told him. "You must keep control over your dragon, my young prince" a young dragon keeper translated the words of an elder, because the prince´s were not yet so advanced in the language, except Aemond and Deianira, who understood each word "As Prince Aegon had it with Sunfyre. Once Vermax is attached to you, it will refuse to take orders from anyone else" he said. The dragon let out a desperate grunt, seeing the pale animal, Jace turned to the leader the excitement on his childish face evident from afar.

"May I?" he questioned, and received a nod from the brown, the brown haired prince turned around to face his uncles and aunt. Aegon had bored, looking everywhere but not there, Aemond looked with a touch of interest and Deianira had a grimace of disgust. That expression was almost characteristic of the princess. Or at least, something Jacaerys always noticed when he was around. And always, no matter what, the boy wanted to impress her. He still didn’t know why, but he wanted her to respect him.

Which always ended up going wrong.

"Dracarys, Vermax!" Jace shouted and the dragon spewed fire through it´s mouth, burning the lamb alive, Nira uttered an almost inaudible exclamation and clung to Aemond’s arm. Not out of fear, but out of indignation. Was it difficult to sacrifice the animal before giving it to a dragon? Could they not spare him the suffering of a painful death? Deianira hated cruelty to the innocent, especially to animals.

The lamb shrieked in pain as the embers clung to it´s body and the princess forced herself not to look away. Vermax went to the corpse of the animal that was once white and devoured it with a few bites, then the dragon keepers took the dragon back to it´s pit, leaving the princes alone. Nira tightened the grip she had on her older brother’s arm.

"Aemond, Deianira" Aegon called them "We have a surprise for you two" he said and Nira rolled her eyes, knowing that nothing good could come from her mother’s firstborn. But she said nothing because she noticed the glow of emotion in Aemond’s eyes.

"What is?" the white haired boy asked. Lucerys said it was something very special with a mocking tone, and the girl looked at the boy with annoyance. Thinking how far he’d fly if she kicked him at that precise moment, but at seeing him run away she preferred to suppress her desires.

"You two are the only ones who do not have a dragon" Aegon spoke.

"It is your fault, you chose the worst eggs for us" Deianira murmurs, feeling how her brother took her back and began to move with them at his side.

"True, it is your fault" Aemond agrees, remembering that their eggs had been chosen by Aegon before their births.

"Well, just…shut up" the eldest prince interrupts them, feeling attacked "I feel bad about my bad choices, okay? Well…we all felt a little bad, so we found something for you two" the younger white haired boy frown frowned, unable to believe him.

"You…find a dragon, seriously?" he asks, his tone full of uncertainty.

"You can’t even find your high Valyrian notes, how will you find a dragon?" Deianira asks, half mocking him and half skeptical.

"The gods provide, little sister" Aegon whispers "The gods provide"

Aemond and Deianira watched as Luke approached…next to a pig, with a harness made of brown strings and false feathers that pretended to mimic two wings.

"Admire the Pink Dread!" Aegon exclaims bursting with laughter, the laughter of the two bastards boys fills the ears of the princes. Aemond feels humiliated, his heart sink in his chest, while Deianira feels only anger. It’s like a hurricane is about to break loose in her stomach "It has room for two mounts, but be careful… the first fly can be difficult"

Nira clenches her fists, but does nothing yet. Aegon and Jacaerys begin to make sounds mimicking a pig and the princess feels an immense urge to throw herself on her brother and tear apart the hairs from his head one by one, and with the disgusting bastard of her sister…the words could not describe how much she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to see him bleed.

A few minutes later Aemond was still petrified beside Deianira, the children were gone and the girl was looking at her brother.

"Now they will know who I am" the princess declares, her cheeks red of anger and her jaw clenching, she sighs before coming out of the pit as soul being chased by the seven devils, Aemond sighs too as she leaves…it was as if a black cloud settled on her head.

"This will end up badly" he whispers, giving up, then he turns around and makes up his mind, starting to creep into the depths of the dragon pit.

Aegon held his nose while it bled in droves. Beside him sat Deianira, who had her shoulders down, awaiting for her punishment. Jacaerys covered his eye with his hand, feeling it begin to swell. Lucerys was the only one who was intact, Nira had not been able to jump on him as her hands and feet were busy beating the two elders.

The first to arrive the room was Rhaenyra, she looked at Jace stunned and worried.

"Who did this?!" she asked, desperately, kneeling to see her son’s face, his right eye was bruised. Deianira smiled at him.

"It is a gift of mine, dear sister" she says, looking at her half-sister, who hardened her gaze when she saw the delicate features of the girl intact.

The crown princess shouldered Nira tightly and at that moment Alicent entered the room, and at the sight of the scene ran to separate her daughter from the hands of Rhaenyra.

"Enough, stop!" the green queen shouted, and held her child in her arms. Then her gaze landed on Aegon "What happened, Aegon?"

The teenager rolled his eyes.

"It was your precious daughter, mother" he says, blood dripping from his nose, some parts were drying up on his skin, leaving crimson spots "Deianira attacked us for no reason!" The girl tried to get out of Alicent’s arms, wishing to throw herself on Aegon again.

"You’re a liar, Aegon, I swear I’ll…-!"she shouted, but a voice rose over hers.

"Enough!" the king exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention towards him, an Aemond all covered with what seemed to be dust was by his side. The boy walked into Alicent’s arms, taking refuge on his mother warmth.

"These disputes must end, we are family!" the king yelled.

"Father" Rhaenyra spoke, and Alicent took her younger child under her grip as she intuited what the white haired woman next words would be 2Princess Deianira has come too far, attacked two princes this time, she is…uncontrollable2

Alicent sighed, smiling powerless and shaking her head softly.

"I know my daughter has had impulsive reactions before, but I don’t think this was for no reason" the redhead says looking at her lord husband.

"Aemond was locked in the dragon pit… " Ser Criston Cole whispered. "The princes were found fighting outside the place" he ended. Viserys looks at Aegon, then at Jacaerys, asking for explanations with his gaze.

"We were quietly coming out of the pit, father, and Deianira rushed over us" Aegon explained, faking a face to try to get his father pit "She had that mad expression she has everytime she lose her mind"

The silence seized the room, and Aemond broke it. His eyes burning with locked tears.

"They gave us a pig!" he shouted, his voice weak and shaky, the adults present in the room looked at the child and Deianira placed her gaze on the ground, feeling the sadness of her older brother "They said they had a dragon for us, they mocked and left us there."

Rhaenyra looked at her younger half-sister, and then at Jacaerys, disappointed to learn the things her son was doing in her absence.

"A blow, over a joke?" the crowned princess asked, but her voice sank into the depths of her throat. No one had words for what happened.

Viserys was the first to speak after a while.

"Apologize, and forget the situation" the King proposed, but Deianira shaked softly her head

"How many situations can we forget, father?" she murmured "Are you going to keep pretending that this family hasn’t been broken for years?"

Aemond took his younger sister’s hand, trying to shut her up.

"What did you said?" Viserys asks, approaching his daughter, who does not look down or flinch.

"What you heard" Deianira says, her amethyst eyes on her father, piercing deeply on his soul "One day there will come a situation that no member of this family will ever forget, and there’s nothing you will can do about it."

The man could not say anything at the words of his offspring, yet hardened his expression.

"Go to your quarters, Deianira, I have no desire to see your face today" he speaks, his cold and heartless tone of voice makes Alicent feel as her chest sinks into her bones.

"Viserys…she´s is your daughter" the queens whispers, but her voice breaks, the king looks at his wife and understands that his words were too harsh. But he wasn’t going to back down.

"Don’t worry about me, Mother" Nira tries to reassure her "I stopped seeing the king like my father long ago…"

After this, the young princess crosses the doorway and leaves, letting the tension in the room rise. Rhaenyra looks at Alicent and then at Aemond, but not a word comes out of her mouth. And so, the gap continues to open, further separating the house of the dragon.

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leased Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 12 ✿:+ War and Atonement 

Chapter Index | next chapter

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, threats of non-con, major character death, minor character death, mention of animal death, misogyny, angst, the boltons, mentions of being drugged, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: SEASON FINALEEEE (week long break) all I am gonna say is… yeesh. It’s a little long and it's really sad. K BYE!! SEE Y'ALL LAATERR

Word Count: 8.9K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ 

Sandor gripped his ax in his hand tightly as he stalked through the woods. Finding the men who killed Ray and the rest of the Sept was not hard. 

The lot of them were in the woods loudly shouting about something Sandor couldn’t care less about. As he marched up behind them, a few of the four men noticed him. They startled easily looking at the giant lumbering man charging towards them with an ax in hand. 

With a furious rage fueled growl he cut and slashed through three of them men with ease. Chopping through their neck, or their heads. 

Finally he approached the last man, a bald older man. He took his ax and with one blow he buried the ax into the man's cock. 

The man cried out in pain, dropping to his knees. Sandor took hold of the man's head, forcing him to look at him, 

“Where are the other ones? The one with the yellow cloak.” He questioned, unaffected by the violence he’d just afflicted on the other men.

“Fuck you!” The bald man screamed, 

“Those are your last words? Fuck you? Come on, you can do better.” Sandor mocked,

The man stammered for a moment unsure of how to reply, “Cunt!” he screamed.

“You’re shit at dying, you know that?” He said as though he had grown tired of his attempts. 

He raised the ax high above his head and threw it down. The man screamed but his screams silenced as the Hounds ax buried deep into his skull.

He pulled his ax out and continued on, starved for the only satisfaction he’d left. Violent revenge.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the Eyrie, Baelish was restraining your men from returning to your aid. He closed the Bloody Gates and forced his men loyal to him and his claim to prevent any of yours from leaving. You were left in Winterfell with only nine men.

In Winterfell, you’d spend most of your time training. 

You and Ser Varys’s swords clash against one another again and again. You were able to knock Varys off his own balance and land him on the ground. You pointed your sword at him,

“I didn’t ask for you to go easy on me, Varys.” You said with a huff, out of breath.

He shook his head, “I am not, my lady. It seems as though you’ve improved remarkably, and quite quickly.” He smiled at you as he stood, “You’re a natural.” He nodded, 

You smiled and looked down, you sheathed your sword, proud of yourself. It was the first time you’d felt that feeling… Pride in your accomplishments. Before you could allow yourself to soak in that feeling, a low and gruff voice from behind you spoke. 

“Aye, I’d say so. A real killer. You can see it in her eyes.” You turned with a furrowed brow around to see a tall wild looking man. He wore furs of different origin, and his hair was the brightest red you’d ever seen. He looked at you with wide and excited eyes, “Pretty murderous eyes-“ You let out a dry chuckle, 

Varys Cole however found nothing amusing in it, he stepped forward and in front of you holding onto the hilt of his sword. “If you wish to speak to the Lady Arryn, you’ll learn to do it in a more respectful manner.” He spoke sternly.

“Who are you?” You asked, 

His eyes went from Varys to you quickly, he smiled at you, “Tormund.” He flashed his eyebrows at you.

“From beyond the wall?” You’d never met a Wildling but you’d imagine this is what they’d look like.

“Aye, you don’t like Wildlings?” His gaze narrowed at you slightly, 

You shook your head, “I am of no opinion.” 

“No opinion?” He asked with a raised eyebrow,

“I’ve never met one before.” You held in a laugh at this man's obvious attraction towards you.

“Aye well, now ye’ have.” He took one step closer, He looked over towards Varys pointing at him “I don’t think he likes wildlings much.” 

Varys took another step closer to him, you raised your hand to signal for him to step down, “It’s alright. I apologize for Ser Cole, he is quite protective of me.” You said softly,

“I’d be too if you were my woman-“ He said with his head lowered but his eyes still on you.

“She is the Lady of the Vale. I am her sword-“ Ser Varys Cole interjected. 

“You’re a sword?” he asked confused, never hearing the expression.

“Her protector.” Varys said sternly.

“The way she holds that sword I don’t think the pretty crow needs one. But a woman should have a man.” His voice was lustful, not seductive but lustful.

“You have a gift for subtlety.” You scoffed, holding in laughter.

“Aye, and gifted at many other things-” He took another step closer to you but Varys blocked him. 

The two men stared at one another attempting to intimidate the other. Before you could interject, Jon did. 

“Enough, come on, we've got things to do.” Jon said, pulling Tormund away. 

As the both of them walked away and into the Lord Commander's quarters, Varys looked at you with annoyance and you held in a laugh.

“He won’t relent if you encourage it.” He said walking towards you, 

“I found it amusing.” You shrugged. He’d no power, and you knew you’d never be with another man so long as you were without Sandor. Besides, waiting for your armies was getting dull.

“You shouldn’t allow people to speak to you like that.” He lectures, sounding like your father.

“Are you my advisor now?” You asked with a furrowed brow.

“I have been, it would seem.” He said, you couldn’t really argue because he was right.

“Perhaps.” You looked down, then back to him, “You are right. But I don’t wish to earn respect through men in armor flashing steel. That is not respect, it’s fear.” 

“Some may say they are one in the same.” 

“Some. Not I. I know the difference.” You said sternly, “Respect forged on the soil of fear will grow anger and contempt. Respect forged on the soil of kindness and compassion grows loyalty and trust.” You removed your belt that held your sword and handed it to Varys, “Soon the rest of the Knights left in the west will remember that.” 

Varys softly smiled and nodded at you, surprised but pleased with your wisdom. You smiled back.

Suddenly you could hear the guards shouting, “Open the gates!” the men shouted, 

You watched as the gates to Castle Black opened. Three people on horseback made their way in. Two of them were a mystery to you but one you recognized immediately. A tall and beautiful girl with red hair, your cousin.

As she dismounted you stepped closer towards her, unable to believe your eyes that it was her. You thought for so long that you’d never see her again.

“Sansa?” You asked softly, she looked at you, you could see a dark and tired pain in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around you, and you wrapped your arms around her in return. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked you, still wrapped around you. 

“I could ask you the same.” You said. 

You felt her arms loosen around you. As you pulled away to look at her you noticed she was looking behind you. As you turned to see what she saw, you saw Jon standing there. He was in as much disbelief as you were, maybe even more. You let go of her, and she ran into Jon’s arms. 

As they embraced, the man who rode in with Sansa walked up to you. 

“Lady Arryn?” He asked in a hush voice, 

You turned to better face him, “Do I know you, Ser?” you asked.

He shook his head, looking at you with curiosity and the same disbelief Jon looked at Sansa with. “Not very well. I was in the service of Lord Tyrion Lannister during your time in KingsLanding.” You then recognized him, you looked down and swallowed hard. “He thought you were dead, it took him some time to admit it but he did. Thought Stannis’s soldiers during the blackwater killed you, then he thought the hound took you. But when I saw him he didn’t have you, so I knew that couldn’t have been right.” He rambled mindlessly as he stared at you still examining you in disbelief.

Your eyes widened when you heard he’d seen Sandor, “You saw him?” You asked quickly.

“Before we saved Lady Sansa from the Bolton’s-” 

“The Boltons?” You interrupted him.

Petyr had threatened you with the prospect of giving Sansa away in your place. But she was in King's Landing, married to Lord Tyrion. You thought surely she was safe. You felt your stomach drop as you realized he’d done it, and it was your fault.

“Lady Brienne fought him while we were looking for Lady Arya.” He continued without answering your question.

“Fought him?” Your eyes went even wider, you felt your pulse quicken.

“And won, he fell down the mountain in the Vale.” You felt as if a wave of cold ocean water had crashed against your body. You felt your heart sink and your stomach turn.  “We were there looking for Arya, thought she might have been hiding within it.” You didn’t even pay attention to the last bit he said, your ears rang and “How did you get out?” He asked, you did not look at him. Couldn’t bring yourself to. You looked down, and you muttered, 

“Another time.” As you walked with hast back to your chambers, 

Your eyes began to well with tears and your face was hot, your breathing picked up and you couldn’t help but feel yourself begin to crumble.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・  

You slammed the door to your chamber closed, you collapsed onto your bed. 

You felt every part of your body ache, your heart felt hallowed out. Your breathing labored from your sobs. You couldn’t bear the pain, it was new. When the others you loved died, your body went numb but now, now you felt entirely too much. You felt far far far too much. You’d never felt your heart break, felt your heart truly cry, until now.

You sobbed into the furs of your bed, silencing your cries as best you could. But soon you heard your door open and close quickly as you looked up. It was Varys.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, he approached your side by your bed. “Are you alright?” He kneeled by your side, placing a hand on the side of your head as you laid there in agony.

“He warned me. He warned me and I did not listen to him.” You whimpered as you sobbed gently. 

Varys rubbed his thumb against your temple, “It was your life or hers, you couldn’t be made such a choice-” 

“But I could have. I didn’t give it because I thought she’d be safe… I thought he’d come back for me.” You angrily wiped your tears.

“He did-” 

“And he died for it. This whole time I waited and wished” You snapped angrily before your sorrow overtook you again, you threw your head back against the bed as you said,  “Gods, know I have been selfish and I have been spiteful. I wished to see the downfall of Littlefinger enough to overlook it willingly.” You shook your head, “It should have been me there. She is good, and I am nothing but nausea, nothing but a longing, nothing but disgrace, nothing but a piece to be moved about the board, nothing but a daughter who was meant to be a son.” Your numbness finally set in, you laid there, your tears falling from your eyes and your lips swollen, nose red but at least you didn’t need to feel it anymore. 

Varys took in your words, “Child. You are discerning, wise, and well reasoned. Those are traits of your father. You are also strong-willed, audacious, and above all loyal. Those are traits of your mother.” He shook his head, “When you were born, your mother and father could not have held greater contentedness. Since that day I have watched you create (Y/N) Arryn in wonder.” He smiled at you softly. 

“What of your family, Varys?” You felt silly for never, during this whole time, asking him such a simple question.

“I had a daughter once, for just a moment. When I was much younger.” He smiled at the memory, “My wife, Helena. A beauty she was, and as sharp as a dagger. She died, attempting to give life to our daughter. She was far too small for life to not slip from her. They both perished in her efforts.” His eyes welled up in tears but his smile persisted, “She would have been your age now.” He held your face in his hand “Since that day, I have only looked after one child my whole life.” He swallowed back emotion, he looked at you understandingly, “You’re in a dark period in your life,” 

“It seems as though my whole life has been a dark period, aside from a few days of either boredom or even fewer of happiness.” You spoke softly as you sniffed your runny nose. 

He shook his head, “You’ve lived a life within the rules of others. Soon you will live by your own. I am as old as your mother would be, I know these things well enough. You will be remembered, beloved, and respected. Soon the light and wisdom will come to you. You’ll be happy, child.” He smiled at you, he knew what he was saying and meant every word of it. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As Sandor stalked the woods, tracking down the rest of the men who’d slaughtered the sept. He found them, only they were standing on logs of wood with their heads in nooses. 

The men surrounding them were the members of the Brotherhood. The very men who’d abducted Sandor and who’d separated he and you.

Thoros looked over at Sandor marching over, bloody ax in hand, “Clegane, the fuck you doing here?” He asked, 

“Chasing them. You?” Sandor asked confused,

“Hanging them.”

“Any particular reason?” He questioned

“They’re our men. Or they were. They attacked a nearby Sept and murdered the villagers. Why do you want them?”

“Same reason. I was helping build it. They killed a friend of mine.” He said as he walked closer to them three men in nooses, with a cold look in his eyes.

“You’ve got friends?” Thoros asked mockingly, 

Sandor shook his head, “Not anymore. They’re mine.” He said, still walking closer.

Beric stopped him, “It’s the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.”

“Fuck your name, they’re mine.” Sandor tried to step forward again but Beric’s hand stopped him, Sandor looked at him with dark eyes “I killed you once before, Dondarrion. Happy to do it again.” He narrowed his eyes, “Drop that arrow you bloody girl. Tougher girls than you have tried to kill me.” He threatened without looking away from Beric. Once the archer didn’t relent he turned to him and began to walk towards him, ax ready in hand. 

Beric interjected, “You can have one of them.”

Sandor turned around, “Two.” He haggled. 

Beric considered it, then finally nodded in approval. 

Sandor walked towards the first man, drew back his ax behind his head and as he was about to swing, Thoros grabbed it, stopping the swing. 

“No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.” Thoros said,

Sandor pulled his ax away from his grasp, “Hanging? All over in an instant. Where's the punishment in that?” He sighed, “I’ll only gut one of them.” trying to haggle again. 

“No,” Beric said firmly, 

“Chop off one hand?” Sandor asked

“We gave you two out of three out of respect for your loss. That’s generous.” Beric reaffirmed,

Sandor huffed, “Bunch of nancies.” He dropped his ax, “There was a time I would have killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” 

“Getting old, Clegane.” Thoros teased

“He’s not.” Sandor said before kicking out the wood logs from underneath the two men he was granted to kill. 

As they thrashed around, he stole the boots from one of the men. As he tried on the stolen boots he turned to the Brotherhood who were staring at him, “Got anything to eat?”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you sat at a dining table with Jon, Edd, Tormund, Brienne, Podrick, and sat beside you was Sansa and to your otherside, Varys. 

You all sat together eating some sort of meat. It was awful but it was no worse than the food you and Sandor were forced to endure while you were on your own. 

It was awkwardly silent. The unspoken trauma that you and Sansa had experienced separately that lingered in the air was certainly to blame. Nor did your disdain for Brienne. You had to keep it hidden though you couldn’t help but scowl at her from time to time. You knew she most likely had no choice but to kill him. Your man did not relent, it wasn’t his nature to stop. When he fought he fought to kill. Still, it was hard not to feel resentment. But the hungry looks Tormund flashed your way certainly did not help ease tensions either.

A member of the Night's watch walked into the room, “A letter for you, Lord Commander.” breaking the tension for a moment.

“I’m not Lord Commander anymore.” Jon said, bringing back that same tension. However he conceded and took the scroll from the man.  He opened it breaking the Bolton’s wax seal, he did so nodding at him allowing him to go. 

You felt ill once you noticed the wax seal. 

Jon read a little of it, then began to read it aloud. “To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the wall. You have betrayed your own kind, you have betrayed the north. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon, his direwolves skin is on my floor, come and see. I want my bride back or the traitor to the east as was betrothed to me. Send one to me, Bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep them from me and I will ride North and slaughter every Wildling, man, and babe living under your protection.” You knew very little of the Boltons, but now you understood just how cruel they were, how much pleasure they took in it. And you knew just how much of a dangerous and sadistic environment Sansa was forced into, it made you feel a red hot rage. “You will watch as I skin them living. You–” Jon stopped, looking at both you and Sansa.

“Go on.” Sansa said, full of conviction. She had grown so much since you’d last seen her. Forced to anyway. 

“It’s just more of the same.” Jon said, looking away.

Sansa grabbed ahold of the letter when he wasn’t looking. She continued on reading, “You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister and cousin. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” 

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Jon said cautiously,

“His father’s dead. Ramsay killed him.” She looked down, worried. “And now he has Rickon.” 

“We don’t know that.” Jon shook his head in denial.

“Yes we do.” Sansa said sternly, 

“How many men does he have in his army?” Tormund asked Sansa,

Sansa thought about it for a moment, “I heard him say 5000 once when he was talking about Stannis’s attack.”

“How many do you have?” Jon asked Tormund, 

“That can march and fight? 2000.” Tormund estimated.

“And you?” Jon turned his attention towards you.

You looked over to Varys next to you, wanting him to break the news rather than you. “Ser Cole?”

“Half the knights are divided evenly. 3000 so far on our causes side.” Varys said, confidently.

“That's an even fight, but where are they?” Jon questioned,

“Lord Baelish has denied them leave from the Eyrie. The other 3000 keep them at bay within the confines behind the Bloody Gate. Only 50 have escaped, and should, if all goes well, be here within a week's time.” Varys finished. Jon looked at him, then you could tell he was incredibly disappointed and for good. 

“I’ve only nine men with me, another 50 coming, hopefully.” You looked at Jon with lowered eyes, knowing it was hardly anything at all. 

Sansa remained unmoved, “You are the last son of the last trueborn Lord of Winterfell. Northern families are loyal they’ll fight if you ask.” Sansa gripped onto Jons hand as if she was begging him to see reason. “A monster has taken our home, and our little brother. We have to go back to winterfell.” 

Jon nodded, knowing there was no other option than war.

As you sat there you contemplated your options, contemplated what move you could make next.

You turned to Varys, “Ser Cole send a raven, I will attempt contact with Lord Baelish. I will set our… differences aside… momentarily.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor ripped into a piece of pork while he sat around a fire with the rest of the Brotherhood.

Beric stared at him, as it ate it, “You ought to join us. We could use you.”

Sandor wasn’t too pleased with the prospect of joining a new group. He was only with the Sept to heal, and repay his debt to Ray. He wanted to get on with it and find you already. “Last time I went with you lot, it didn’t work out for me.” He faked a smile for a moment and dropped it swiftly as he dug further into their food. 

“Clegane, we're here for a reason.” Thoros said, trying to convince him, he clearly knew something he didn’t. “The Lord of Light is keeping Beric alive for a reason. We are part of something larger than ourselves.” 

“Lots of horrible shit in this world gets done for something larger than ourselves.” Sandor shook his head, not allowing himself to believe it. He was skeptical, and even if it were real what he said, if it meant he had to leave his plans to find you behind… he wouldn’t do it.

“Cold winds are rising in the North.” 

“And you’re going go to stop them?” Sandor asked mockingly. 

“We need good men to help us.” 

“Last time you saw me you wanted to execute me. Got me separated from my woman, she could be dead now. Why would I help you?” His eyes narrowed. 

“You can find another woman along the way.” Beric said, trying to comfort him in a way.

If he had said that to Sandor even a fortnight ago he would have beaten him for even suggesting it. But he flashed furious eyes at him, then looked down, “Don’t want another.” he said, sulking in his own misery.

Beric nodded, “True enough. But the Lord of Light gave you the power to defeat me. Why?” 

“I beat you, because I’m better than you, Beric. I was better than you before you started yammering about the Lord. And I’m better than you now.” Sandor said with confidence. And he was right, there were very few who could best him.

Beric chuckled, “Aye, you’re probably right. You’re a fighter, born a fighter. You walked away from that fight. How did that go? Good and bad young and old. The thing we’re fighting will destroy them all alike. And if that lady love of yours is still out there, that just will happen to her too. You can help a lot more than you’ve harmed, Clegane.” Beric finished, finally convincing him. 

Whatever threat was coming, if it meant you would be in danger, he would do everything he could to stop it. Even if it meant he would be apart from you longer, as long as you were alive, that would be enough.

He nodded, agreeing to whatever journey they had planned for them. 

As he did, a large and beautiful Falcon came and landed in a tree nearby, it loudly cawed at him. It was the very same Falcon that stayed with him while he was dying in the mountains of the Vale, the one that had gone missing since. 

“Fucking hells…” Sandor grumplied looking at the bird.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You, and Varys rode up to meet with Lord Baelish just outside of Mole Town. 

You sat on your horse about twenty feet in front of Baelish on his own horse. He had with him two other Knights of the Vale. 

“My beloved Niece.” Baelsih said, smirking, “I hear you have come to a change in heart.” 

You showed no emotion, stoic in your response, “No, a momentary delay. I have to request the aid of your army.” 

“It is certainly unusual. We are meant to be at war are we not?”

“We are, though I need numbers in another fight.” 

“Another?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

You didn’t indulge him in an argument, ��I know what you did to Sansa.” You said, darkness growing in your eyes.

He attempted to rationalize his actions quickly, “She wished to return to Winterfell, and I aided her in her effort.”

“She escaped, Baelish.” You interjected quickly, “You should have seen her.” You held back emotion, swallowing it down, “They have threatened war, and we don’t have the numbers. They are going to kill her, kill her brothers, and they will take me in her place. You might believe that to be a good thing, for me to be gone from you. But with his power he will want the Eyrie just as badly, and we both know his cruelty.” 

He considered your words carefully, “How do I know you tell the truth? How do I know I am not sending men into a trap where you plan to slaughter them?”

“Because I am the Lady of the Vale. I would not lie to these men.” You looked at the traitors who accompanied Baelish. You could see shame in their eyes as they avoided your gaze. You turned your gaze back to Baelish, much harsher and cold, “Do one good thing. You’ll want Lady Sansa on your side, you’ll want her favor, you’ll want the north’s favor, and you’ll want my mercy.” 

“Lady Sansa knows I would never wish ill will onto her. She knows I did not kn-” 

“Ask her yourself.” You interrupted before riding off and away from him.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・ ꒱꒱

Once you returned to Winterfell, you received a raven from Baelish. The message read that Baelish would meet with Sansa and offer his aid to her, and her alone. You were determined to convince him. Determined to not let the world take another loved one away from you. You couldn’t take another loss. It would crush any bit of warmth within you that was left, leave you cruel and hateful.

When you entered Sansa’s chambers, you noticed her sewing something. 

“What are you working on?” You asked as you walked closer towards her.

“A cape for Jon. The same as our Father wore.” She said as she sewed. 

You sat beside her, “He was a good man.” you said, smiling softly at her. 

“He was.” She said with a sorrowful smile. As she raised her hand up, pulling a needle through the leather and fur of the cape. Her sleeve fell slightly, allowing you to see bruising. 

You held her wrist in your hands gently, stopping her from sewing. You swallowed hard, observing the bruise, feeling both guilt and rage serge through your blood. “I must know what you endured.” You said, sweetly and softly. Like a mother.

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.” She shook her head, and removed her hand. “Besides, I still don’t know what happened to you.” She said looking down shamefully.

You positioned yourself to face her better, “Littlefinger might have taken a child from me. I don’t even know if I have the right to cry over it, because I don't even know if I was, or was not. He took the only man I loved away from me, he took your sister from me. He killed my aunt. He might have killed my father.” You shook your head. “I don't even know that for certain either. The uncertain is worse than the certain, it was almost part of the torment. Kept me in a castle, fed me isolation until I never left my chambers, only thought of the uncertainties. Until he drugged me and sold me to the Boltons. But Varys Cole saved me and brought me here.” Her eyes fell on you, soft and warm. Sympathetic, not pitiful. You smiled through a growing emotion, “See, you’ve not looked at me differently at all.” 

Sansa, put down her needle. She looked at you, and with courage she told you all of what she’d endured. Since the moment you had left King’s Landing she had experienced every tragedy you had narrowly escaped. The things the Bolton’s had done was the worst of it. Your blood boiled with hatred. But soon the rage subsided with the overwhelming feeling of guilt, and sorrow.

“I seem to have left you my fate, inadvertently, twice now I am sorry.” You tried to hold back tears, though your voice wavered “Very, very sorry.” You held her hand, “I’d not look at you differently. You are my blood. I’m going to help you kill those men.” You took a breath, “Though there is one thing that you can do.” You said handing her the message Littlefinger had sent for you.

She took the letter and read it, “Littlefinger…” She whispered, “How far is Mole Town?” She asked you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The dreaded moment came, a war consultation with Ramsay Bolton the morning before the battle. 

Smalljon Umber, and Harald Karstark were there to accompany Ramsay. You and Varys were there alongside Jon, Sansa, Tormund, Davos, and Lyanna Mormont. All of you on horseback on an open field. 

Ramsay smiled and spoke confidently, “My beloved wife. Thank you for returning Lady Bolton home safely. Now dismount and kneel before me. Surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will Pardon you for deserting the Night's Watch. I will pardon these treasonous Lords for betraying my house. And I shall give Lady Arryn the men to fight for the Vale.” You remained stone faced, and stone hearted. As did your companions. Ramsay then continued, “Come Bastard. You don’t have the men, you don’t have the horses, and you don’t have Winterfell. And she doesn’t even have the Eyrie.” He smiled at you, you only scowled.  “Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There’s no need for a battle. Get off your horse, and kneel. I am a man of mercy.” He said, it made you feel ill.

You said nothing, only holding back your desire to stab him in the eye.

“You’re right. There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die. Only one of us. Let's do this the old way. You against me.” Jon said, you held back a smirk, knowing Bolton would never agree.

Ramsay “I keep hearing stories about you. The way the North tells it you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good. Maybe not. I don’t know if I can beat you. But I know my army will beat yours.” His eyes were wild and wide. 

“Aye, you’ve the numbers. Would your men want to fight for you, when they hear you wouldn’t want to fight for them?” Jon said, it made you smirk.

Ramsay smiled, angrily “He’s good, very good. But are you going to let your little brother die because you are too proud to surrender?” 

“How do we know you have him?” Sansa said, without fear. 

Ramsay smirked, then nodded to one of his men. The man threw towards Sansa the decapitated head of Rickon’s direwolves head. Sansa looked upon it with cold and emotionless eyes. 

Ramsey continued, “Now if you want to save–” 

“You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton.” Sansa interrupted coldy, “Sleep well.” She said riding away. You watched as she left, you understood the feeling she had all too well. 

Ramsay smiled, “She’s a fine woman, your sister. Just as fine as your cousin.” You looked back at Ramsay, your gaze was hateful and cold, “I look forward to having one of them back in my bed. In the morning then. Bastard.” Ramsay said as he rode away.

You watched them ride off, “If it comes to it… I’ll take her place.” you said to Jon beside you.

Jon shook his head, “No, you won’t. We need every man we can get. Send some ravens.” He said pulling on the reins of his horse, riding away. 

You sat there for a moment, thinking of how furious Sandor would be. Furious that someone would have even threatened such actions towards you. Furious that you would even suggest taking such punishment if it meant someone else didn’t. Furious that you’d even gotten in this war. He would have killed Ramsay then and there. But Sandor wasn’t here anymore, only you. So you’d have to kill Ramsay yourself. 

You then followed after Jon. You’d a war to plan for.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor and the rest of the Brotherhood rode through the Riverlands. It was snowing and cold. And Sandor was irritable for good reason. They were going to the Wall, and in Sandor’s mind that was the last place you would be. Of course he would be wrong in that, but you never thought you’d be there either.

“Bad night to be outdoors,” Thoros said, observing the obvious weather.

“You got real powerful to figure that out. Did the Lord of Light whisper that in your ear?” Sandor said mockingly, “‘It’s snowing, Thoros. It’s windy. It's gonna be a cold night.’” He said in a deeper voice mimicking the Lord Thoros served.

Thoros scoffed, “You’re a grouchy old bear, aren’t you, Clegane?” He held out a bottle towards Sandor as a peace offering “You want some rum?”

“Don’t like that shit, It’s too sweet.” Sandor said with a disgusted expression.

“Why are you always in such a foul mood?” Thoros teased,

“Experience.” Sandor replied

Above them a Falcon flew, Sandor saw it and huffed to himself. He thought he’d seen the last of it but the bird continued to stalk him. 

“There goes that bird again. Maybe cook it for supper…” Thoros said thinking out loud.

“No.” Sandor snapped quickly before regaining composure, “No one's eating that bird.” He grumbled.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You laid in your bed. You watched as the sun began to rise over the wall. In solitude you could be weak, devastated, and useless. You could let yourself sink and drown peacefully in your grief and sorrow. Allowing it to wrap you in its cold embrace. Until you heard the horn of war blow. Now you had to hold your head high, you had to be strong, you needed to be relentless. 

You pushed yourself out of bed and sat beside the fire in your room. 

Varys walked into your chambers, “The war horn has been blown, My Lady.” He said as he closed the door and approached you.

“I know it.” You said staring into the fire.

“I have something for you.” He said softly, you looked over towards him, “I had it made for you here.” You took the metal from his hands. It was black armor, fearsome looking. “Now I do not wish for you to fight. However, this is the first fight you shall lead into Battle.” 

“I lead only nine men.” 

“59, my lady. The men arrived late last night.” You felt a wave of relief but also a great weight of responsibility and duty, “Even if it were nine men, It is your first fight. You should lead in armor. Your father always wore armor, not in silver and blue but black.” You looked at the armor in your hand, it was a deep and dark black color, like a night sky. “He wore black to show the enemy that his presence, his army's presence, meant death.” You ran your hand over the falcon that was imprinted on the breast plate, “And of course there's a falcon, because there has to be a falcon.” He smiled, 

You smiled softly in return, “Thank you.” 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Are you frightened?” He asked ready to offer reassurance in your ability.

“No.” You said with strong conviction. You had no room to be frightened. You knew you would succeed because failure was not an option. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

The Battle Began. Your men alongside the Stark forces were stationed at a treeline, to be sure you couldn’t be taken from behind. It was made known prior to the battle that the Stark army would not charge first. You had the least men, so you needed patience on your side. 

Across the field is the much larger Bolton army, who have placed archery distance markers with burning, flayed corpses attached to them. You had never seen such a grotesque scene. Though it only made your rage grow bigger. 

Ramsay rode out on his horse to the front of his own army, bringing a tied up Rickon Stark. You saw Ramsay dismount and walk towards Rickon with a dagger, you worried for a moment that Ramsay would slit Rickon's throat, but instead he cut bonds. Ramsay pointed at Jon. Rickon starts running in a straight line toward Jon. 

Jon, confused, watched as Ramsay pulled out a bow and arrow as Ramsay pointed it at Rickon. 

Jon, terrified for his brother, rode out alone onto the battlefield charging towards his brother. All the while Ramsay shoots and misses again. Your heart raced, watching it. Just when Rickon is about to reach Jon, however, Ramsay's final shot hits Rickon in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

“Gods.” You whispered to yourself, 

“Prepare to charge!” Davos announced, 

You looked over to your men and Ser Varys Cole, you nodded to them to prepare.

Jon you could see across the field. Your heart ached for him, you’d seen your own brother die with only the Gods to blame. And now Jon had one man to blame. So it did not surprise you when Jon charged full tilt at the Bolton army alone, who immediately lost their arrows on him. Alarmed, Davos ordered the Stark forces to charge after their commander. 

You commanded the same of your men, Varys gave you one last nod before riding into battle. 

Jon was thrown from his horse when it was shot out from under him, Jon prepares for his last stand by drawing his sword and facing the Bolton army alone. However he was saved by the Stark army, and the battle became a chaotic mess of blood, arrows, horses, and swords. Men were killed so quickly that they began to form small hills of the dead.

“It’s a slaughter. Where is Lady Sansa?” You asked Davos, he shook his head at you not knowing. You huffed and looked back to the battle in front of you. 

Ramsay ordered his own archers to shoot at the battle. Killing both the Stark forces and his own army. Instead of doing the same, Davos led his archers to join Jon Snow and the others into battle. 

You being left alone at the treeline where your armies first deployed you fled to a high hill to get a better view of the battle. 

Once you did you could see that the arrows Ramsay ordered out had killed both Stark and Bolton men, and soon the small hills of bodies had become a wall of the dead. It was then clear what they were planning. It was a sadistic way to prevent his enemy from retreating. The remaining Bolton army manage to surround the remaining Stark army and close them in with a shield phalanx. 

You watched horrified as the phalanx acted as a noose, tightening around the Stark forces, who by now are dying in droves. Any of them that attempt to retreat toward the wall of dead men, they trample the wounded and squeeze so tightly in the confined space that they are unable to properly move. Smalljon leads a small force over the wall of the dead to ensure that none are able to escape.

Finally you heard the sounds of Horse hooves behind you. You saw a sea of silver Knights being led by both Sansa and Petyr. As they approached you, Petyr looked at you with contempt and explained, “Knights of the Vale shall ride for Lady Sansa.” Making it clear they were not there for you.

You couldn’t argue, there was no time for that. You pulled the reins of your horse Lika. “They will follow me into battle then.” You said with strong conviction, Petyr nodded to them. 

The knights looked at you, “There is no time for motivation, no time for a speech. Your men are down there already dying. These men will kill you. So we will kill them first. Now circle them, take them from behind! Blow the horns, and Charge!” You shouted as you rode into battle. 

In the battle, Jon was suffocating, just when all hope seemed lost, he heard a war horn sound off in the distance. Around the bend appears a large mounted army of the Knights of the Vale, led by you. The newly arrived Arryn reinforcements quickly circle the phalanx. The Vale knights are able to attack on the Boltons' undefended side, wiping away Ramsay's phalanx and freeing the Stark soldiers. As you led them around, an arrow shot into Lika’s heart, she dropped to the ground and tossed you off and onto the ground. 

Disorientation from the fall, you looked up and saw a man in silver armor, laying against the wall of the dead men. As your eyes steadied you saw he was breathing labored, and coughing blood. As they steadied more you saw an arrow in his throat, and as they steadied even more you noticed the man was Varys Cole. You grunted as you crawled towards him on your elbows. 

“No,” You whimpered, you pulled yourself onto him, you held his neck, bleeding profusely, “NO!” You cried, 

Varys coughed up more blood, “(Y/N), you must leave here” he wheezed, 

“No, no, no,” You sobbed gently like a little girl as you held onto his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

He took your wrist in hand “Leave me-” 

You interrupted him, continuing to sob, “Don’t leave me-”

“I am dying.” His eyes were low, and he spoke tiredly. 

“You cannot!” You shook your head and shouted as you cried

“All men can.” He removed his belt and sword along with it, handing it to you. “My sword is yours, child.” 

You continued to sob, “Varys-”  

He whipped your tears with his bloody hand, “It’s been yours long enough.” You held the hand he caressed your cheek with until it went limp and fell to his side.  

“Varys-V-V” You stammered as you sobbed, “Varys!” Clinging to his armor, as his eyes faded. Your numbness didn’t come as it often did. But sadness did not either. A rage fueled blood lust unlike anything you'd ever felt overtook your body.

Enraged and maddened with grief you took Varys’s sword in hand, you stood and charged into battle, eyes puffy and red swelled from the tears that fell from them, your nose and cheeks red and slashed with heat from emotion, you breathed deeply but your sobs made you choke on your own breathing. 

You managed to strike two men down with your sword. Grunting and screaming out in grief as you fought. All in which you endured to this moment flashed before your eyes. It only fueled your rage. 

After you striked down your third man an arrow flew and struck you in your thigh. You overpowered your body’s instrict to hunch over in pain. As your hands reached the arrow in your leg, a man came up behind you and grabbed you.

He placed his hand over your mouth pressing you against his body. His other hand held a dagger, he swung his arm around to stab you in the belly but you grabbed ahold of his forearm before he could make contact. 

You bit his hand as hard as you could, nearly taking off his finger completely. The man dropped the dagger and shouted out in pain.

Within an instant you broke the end of the arrow in your thigh off and pulled it through your leg. You then turned around and used the arrow to stab through the man's eye. Killing him.

You looked over to see Tormund staring at you, in awe, “Fuck you doing here?” Tormund asked,

“Fighting.” You responded, eyes still puffy and red. Mouth still stained with the blood of the man you’d just killed. You took back your sword and looked over to see Ramsay, now without a fighting force, decides to retreat to Winterfell to hold out in a siege. Your eyes found Jon nearby, “Jon, He’s fleeing!” You shouted. You and Jon ran following behind Ramsay alongside Tormund and the giant Wun Wun. You ran despite the horrid pain in your leg. 

Before you could reach the main gate. Ramsay closed them. However it didn’t last very long when Wun Wun was able to break down the main gate, allowing the Starks and Arryns to pour through. 

Your army along with the remaining Starks and Freefolks kill all remaining Bolton men in the castle. Wun Wun collapses to his knees after being hit by arrows, bolts, and javelins. Before Jon can comfort his friend, however, Ramsay kills the giant with an arrow through the eye. 

Ramsay, refusing to surrender, “You suggested one on one combat, I’ve reconsidered, I think that's a wonderful Idea.” He taunted Jon,

Ramsay then began shooting arrows at Jon unarmed. You threw a shield from a fallen Mormont soldier. Jon grabs it while boldly advancing, blocking all of Ramsay's shots. When he reached Ramsay, he smacks the bow out of his hands and knocks him to the ground. With Ramsay down, Jon pins him and proceeds to beat him savagely. 

You smiled as you watched it, tears falling from your eyes. You feared you may laugh.

Though it seems as if he will kill Ramsay, Jon stops. Jon then ordered for Ramsay to be locked in the kennels. The Bolton banners drop to the ground in a cluttered heap while the Starks banner is raised above Winterfell for the first time in three years.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

You entered the Kennels. Looking upon the bloodied and beaten Ramsay, tied in a chair. 

He looked at you, “Are you waiting for me to speak first? Man does not normally introduce himself to his former betrothed.” He said mockingly

“Ramsay.” You stated quietly and coldly.

“You do remember, how lovely.” He laughed to himself, “You look wonderful. The crimson of violence suits you well. I knew it would.” He said, attempting to goad you.

“I understand who you are now. A broken little boy who cannot bear the pain of the world, so he becomes it. But cruelty is easy and you are not special for choosing it.” You took out your sword, you placed the tip of the blade against his chest, “I’ve wanted to bury my blade in you for a long time.” You said, fighting the urge to push it in,  “Only, it’s not my blade to hold.” You said, looking behind you, seeing Sansa standing here. She nodded to you and you nodded in return as you opened the kennel doors and stood with her on the outside of the kennel’s cage.

“Oh, Sansa.” Ramsay smiled, “Our time together is about to come to an end. That’s alright, you can’t kill me. I’m part of you now.” He said trying to torment her one last time.

Sansa however remained unfazed by his attempt, “Your words will disappear, your house will disappear, your name will disappear, all memories of you will disappear.” She said coldly as Ramsay’s starved dogs fled their cages and circled him.

“My Hounds will never harm me.” Ramsay said, with a growing fear in his voice.

“You haven’t fed them in seven days. You said it yourself.” Sansa said emotionlessly as she watched them circle.

“They’re loyal beasts.” Ramsay said, uncertainty present in his voice.

“They were. Now they’re starving.” 

“Down!” He shouted at the dog, instead of listening the dog began hungrily sniffing and licking his bloody face. “Down! Down! Down!” He shouted and shouted until his shouts became screams. Overcome by hunger, the hound proceeds to savagely maul his face and the others follow suit. As Ramsay is devoured alive by his own dogs, Sansa turns to you and you both lock arms as you and she walk away. Though you limped mostly. You both savor the sounds of his screams. You turn to look at one another, you both softly smile at one another.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In Winterfell, A day had passed since the battle. You laid in your bed recovering from your physical injuries. Though you spent most of your time laying there sulking in your own misery.

That night Sansa entered your chambers with a cup of tea, “How’re you feeling?” She asked, handing you the cup as you sat up.

“Like I’ve had an arrow through my leg.” You said stoically as you took the cup.

She smiled, though her smile faded, “I am… sorry for your loss.” she said earnestly. 

“And I yours.” You said, just as earnest as she was. 

“I’ve come with good news.” She said trying to brighten your spirits, “Once they were left unattended at the gate, your armies fled the Vale, they are coming here, to Winterfell. And I hear some of Baelish’s Knights have left his side to join your ranks. You have shown great bravery, and great loyalty to your men. No one shall forget it.” She smiled at you.

“It wouldn’t have happened without you. They rode for you.” You smiled back, 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

During your recovery Jon continued his mission in defeating the White Walkers. He had traveled to Dragonstone to persuade The Dragon Queen to allow him to mine for Dragonglass. While there, Jon received a letter regarding the army of the dead approaching Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Tyrion who was acting as Daenerys hand, proposed a plan to capture a wight to prove to Cersei, the existence of the White Walkers. Jon agrees and departs with Davos, Jorah, and Gendry.

Once at the Wall, they met with Tormund with whom they shared their plan.

“Isn’t it your job to talk him out of stupid fucking ideas like this?” Tormund asked Davos, unconvinced that their plan was wise.

“I've been failing at that job as of late.” Davos teased, making Jon smirk.

“How many queens are there now?” Tormund asked Jon,

“Two.” He responded, 

“And you need to convince the one with dragons or the one who fucks her brother?” Tormund asked crudely but accurately. 

“Both.” Jon held back a laugh,

“How many men did you bring?” Tormund asked again, attempting to understand how bad of an idea this was.

“Not enough.” Jon said, this had become a recurring issue. 

“Not the armored woman?” Tormund asked like a whiny puppy, hoping you’d be joining.

Jon smiled and shook his head, as you were still back in Winterfell.

“You really want to go out there again?” Gentry said, “You’re not the only ones.”

The men at the table looked at him confused,

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Upon reaching Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, Sandor and the Brotherhood were taken by wildlings serving alongside the Night's Watch, and were held in the ice cells below the castle.

“My scouts found them a mile south of the Wall. Said they were on their way here.” The man said, 

Jon looked at Sandor in the cell, “You’re the Hound, I saw you once at Winterfell.” Recognizing him instantly. Sandor sat up in his cell, not responding.

“They want to go beyond the wall too.” Gentry said angrily, untrusting of the Brotherhood.

“We don’t want to go beyond the Wall, we have to. Our Lord told us that the Great War is coming. It doesn’t matter what our reasons are, there is a greater purpose at work. And we serve it together, whether we know it or not.” Beric said standing, ready to give a speech, “We may take the steps but the Lord of Light–”

Sandor couldn’t take it anymore and interrupted, “For fuck’s sake will you shut your hole? Are we coming with you or not?” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE: Hmmm seems like our pookie bear might just be approaching…. I hope you like this. I am treating it as a season finale bc there won't be an update until maybe 6/30.

K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags: 

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky  @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06  @symonedoesart 

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter

@drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare 

[kupidachillea]

Hello! Could you do hcs of Telemachus?? Thankyouu

Telemachus x Reader Hcs (Romantic)

Author note: Thank you so much for requesting, this was honestly a big help to snap me out off my writers block 🙏

TW: None. This is fluff.

🕯️ - Having Telemachus as a partner was not something you out right expected, but it wasn’t something you were opposed to. After all, you should be happy that the Prince of Ithaca had chosen you of all people to be his lover.

🏵️- Even so, it still came as a surprise to you. Especially when he came up to you with a sheepish, yet charming look on his face asking if you were free to come walk with him. How could you say no? But that’s the thing,.you didn’t.

🕯️- It happened late in the afternoon..the Greek sun high in the sky as you stood in front of your home sweeping dust away to make the place looks somewhat presentable and out of nowhere he showed up. Looking as awkward as a young teenaged boy asking his crush to prom.

🏵️- Introducing himself and asking for your name which you happily gave him before he told you why he was here. He looked a little nervous at first but when you agreed to his offer he couldn’t have been happier. And that’s just about how your meeting went with the young prince and from that day forward, he’d come by whenever you were free and asked to go for a walk.

🕯️-And for the first few months you enjoyed his company. You’d often find yourself over at the palace watching him train or listening to him ramble about his future plans.

🏵️-If you’re the type to ramble as well, he’ll gladly be quiet and listen to you rant on about anything and everything. And even if you don’t, he still loves to listen to you. Your voice being a source of comfort. 🕯️-He’ll often confide in you about how he misses his father and how he hopes that he comes home soon..

🏵️- It’s been years! And of course you haven’t seen the king too- you were both nothing but babies at the times most of the men and Odysseus were called into war.

🕯️- Of course you’d comfort the prince, telling that it’d be okay and that his father would come sooner than later, which Telemachus appreciated.

🏵️-Soon enough though, Telemachus found himself staring to fall for you and he wasted no time in showing up at your home and asking if it would be alright for him to court you.

🕯️-The look of surprise on your face made him worried at first, thinking you’d say no to him. But you didn’t- you actually said yes.

🏵️- And he couldn’t have been happier, of course he immediately took you into his arms and spun you around, nuzzling his face into your neck before putting you down and taking your hand to go and spend time with you.

🕯️- His love language is acts of service and physical touch. He loves to just hold your hand or do things for you, anything at all. You need help cleaning? He’s over at your house immediately. You want someone to come with you to the market? He’ll be your personal chaperone.

🏵️- He’s not much of a cook but he tries he’s best, often asking his mother, Penelope or some servants for advice on how to improve.

🕯️- Telemachus just can’t wait for the day his dad comes home, wanting to introduce you to him and hopefully getting his approval.

🏵️- And when you finally do meet the king himself, he accepts you with open arms. Even if he was a bit apprehensive at first, but anything for his son.

🕯️- Telemachus isn’t too possessive, but he is protective to an extent. Like his father with the suitors, he’s willing to swing a sword if he has to, he can’t stand the idea of someone trying to, or rather attempt at wooing you.

🏵️- He loves to call you his ‘Little sparrow..’, to him, it just fits. Of course he’ll call you the usual nicknames, like ‘my love’ , ‘darling’, ‘sweetheart’.. but his main one it sweet song bird nicknames.

🕯️- He’s definitely the type of man to fuss over you if you get injured. Making sure you’re alright first, asking what caused it then ranting about how you need to be more careful, even just a little. After he patches you up he gives you a kiss before pulling you into his arms.

🏵️- Finally, Telemachus is the type of man to value those sweet little moments you both have. When you finally share a bed, he treasures the small moments before you go to sleep..rubbing your back softly and cooing or early in the morning..10 minutes before you both decide to get up.. whispering sweet nothings to you and massaging your arm lightly..peppering your cheeks with kisses.

Eeeeee! This was fun to right other than my usual boys. Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy this. I’m sorry it’s a bit shorter Tyana I wanted, I tried my best- but if I get more Telemachus requests I’ll improve on the hcs and probably X readers too.💕

[manofbeskar]

i always think about how interesting it is for mihawk to keep saying he wants to live a peaceful life, but he has never once passed up an opportunity to run into danger. like his past of hunting marines, and then getting excited when he was getting hunted by marines again after marineford. he moved to a war-torn island inhabited by violent humandrills. he sought out shanks daily for at least a decade for duels. sure he has calming hobbies like gardening, but his actions show him as a man who lives for exciting places and people

i also think sometimes about the possibility that mihawk thought of (and still thinks) of shanks as the only real option for the pirate king. mihawk doesn't care to have the title himself despite being one of the leading pirates at the time (since the golden pirate age had barely started) and standing quite a good chance. compared to shanks, mihawk has more experience leading a grand line voyage. shanks then would have no experience leading a crew or successfully charting a voyage to the grand line himself. mihawk saw shanks's potential for greatness and believed in it, duelled him every day and watched his power grow stronger—to the point of shanks even developing a haki that directly opposes his own (and being the only known user of it so far, so there's a possibility he invented it from how much time he was spending with mihawk?) as roger's son, maybe mihawk expected that, while shanks wasn't ready at the time to find the one piece, that he will be in the future. he's helped shanks grow a reputation (since shanks got famous from how often he was fighting mihawk), grow in power (anti-observation haki and improved swordsmanship over the years). he's watched shanks's crew grow over the years (since there's a chance he might've known shanks before he even recruited his first crewmate)

the big betrayal comes when shanks gave up his arm because of his belief in luffy being able to be pirate king someday. because to mihawk, the title has always belonged to shanks. he's bet everything on him. he's the one who sought him out daily for a decade. he's the one who's helped him hone his skills. he's the one who believed in him when most of the world didn't even know who he was. and now shanks threw away all of that for a little boy? so mihawk stopped duelling him because there's no point if shanks isn't as invested in this as he is. but shanks still had hope mihawk would eventually return, possibly because he may not be aware of how much mihawk believed in his potential >> when mihawk came back with luffy's poster, shanks for some reason still thinks mihawk wants to fight him, even though mihawk just says he lost interest many years ago

mihawk also refuses to fight shanks on other people's orders. and even when he was fighting shanks regularly, despite their duels being so wracked with power that whitebeard said the grand line would shake, somehow shanks never leaves with so much as a scratch on his person. didn't whitebeard even say he thought his scars were given by mihawk? and yet as far as we know, mihawk and shanks have never had any real intention to hurt each other, and have never done so. mihawk left marineford after being ordered to attack shanks, and then questioned buggy for thinking he would attack shanks (and the other emperors) for him >> if even a little part of him still believes in shanks's potential to be pirate king, there's really no reason for him to hinder his progress. adding on that, as shanks doesn't seem to have any interest in competing for mihawk's title of greatest swordsman, mihawk also has no interest in competing for his as the pirate king. they've avoided each other's goals the whole time

mihawk also tells zoro "when a man like you throws away his pride, it is always for someone else" (when he begs mihawk to train him so he can protect luffy). maybe i'm reading too much into this one, but i always thought it was an interesting detail to throw in that mihawk apologises to shanks when he decides to attack luffy. he apologises even though shanks is not there yet, and specifically apologises because he is not going to hold back. it almost implies he has promised shanks to hold back on luffy and his crew—more likely that shanks might've requested this of mihawk when they celebrated his bounty than mihawk volunteering to do so lol. mihawk cares a lot about pride. when he first fights zoro, he humiliates him by not going all out and using kogatana. he apologises to mock zoro. he's cocky and prideful. mihawk doesn't apologise for doing anything because he feels he has nothing to be sorry for. he does whatever he wants, and everyone lets him because he's strong. yet his apology to shanks at marineford could imply he agreed to stand back. and his sincere apology to a man who isn't there, about being unable to continue holding back his power... idk to me that reads as something mihawk would consider shameful. mihawk enjoys being powerful and unstoppable, yet here he is apologising for that because of shanks —who again isn't even there to hear it!

this even ties into my "theory" (i say theory in quotation marks bc honestly it's more of a hope than something i seriously believe in) that mihawk may eventually leave the cross guild and join up with the red hair pirates—either because he's secretly been their swordsman the whole time, and why the RHP has never had a swordsman on the crew (in terms of rank like zoro, not just people who wield swords) or he feels this is his best option—to find the one piece. because if he stays with the cross guild, he'll have to find the OP for buggy who he thinks is a fucking idiot. if he has to find the OP no matter what, mihawk might prefer to spend his efforts on the same man he's believed in from the very start. also just think about how everything we know about mishanks's rivalry is all hearsay from other characters and behind-the-scenes stuff, and we haven't seen either of them go all out yet. just imagine when we finally get that, it's them teaming up. the world's most legendary rivalry teaming up to find the most coveted treasure. i think that'd scare everyone, pirate and marine alike (and not to throw in non-canon stuff here but i mean... mishanks vs the straw hats is already a battle that exists in one of the games 👀 )

and to tie it back to the first paragraph here. because mihawk can't run in the opposite direction of what excites him. and he has spent the past decade trying to find someone who excites him more than shanks. and he has very clearly failed. marineford ended with mihawk being excited to return to his past of when marines used to chase him, and maybe he could be excited too at the prospect of returning to the only man who ever made him feel alive

idk idk i have a lot of thoughts about them!!!! you can tell i'm very brainrotful about them!!!

[hyukascampfire]

To: Someone From a Warm Climate

wc: 17.5k (whew…)

genre: smut, angst, fantasy violence

pairings: faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader

synopsis: a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

a/n: y'all. Y'ALL. I have so much in store for you. I was hunched over my desk writing this like a crazed scientist mixing their chemicals.

! warnings: violence (stabbing... twice..), a dead animal appears in a scene, fem reader, mentions of past family trauma, cunnilingus, overstimulation, unprotected sex

playlists: taehyun | yeonjun | series

prev | next

It’s more difficult than you had anticipated to keep your mouth shut about what had happened, but Taehyun stays quiet, so you do too. You make yourself useful, packing up with him, hoping to ease the palpable tension.  

Insecurities whisper in your ears that the kiss was just… disappointing to him. It was your first kiss, anyway. The feel of his lips on yours is brutally seared into your mind. You hope your mouth harasses his mind as much as his does yours. You can’t let that fester for too long, though. You have a lot to do to become a useful spy. Your inadequacy is why you’re even here, traveling in silence next to Taehyun, heading north. You’re not sure why they decided to throw you to the wolves for your first assignment, but there has to be a reason. You can only throw yourself more fully into improving your skillset. 

You decide on trying to cut the nagging tension with words. You’ve walked for hours with it looming in the air. But, it isn’t easy. You open your mouth to speak, closing it to rethink your words, and repeat a few times, before finally just saying, “What are we going to even be doing, when we reach the north?” You readjust your bag on your shoulders, its thick straps digging into the bone of your shoulder. The bag is heavier than it was yesterday. Everything is heavier today. Maybe it’s the realization that you’re progressing toward your dream, but it’s all hazier than you imagined it would be. Or, maybe, it’s the awful cold shoulder Taehyun is throwing at you.

“Do you know much about the Unseelie queen?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You know that her kingdom is revered as the most fearsome in Faerie, and you know that they hold a special brew of distaste for humans. But, you do not know much more. Your school lessons had, for reasons you could infer, brushed over the ice kingdom only very briefly. The folk prefer that humans don’t see those sides of this world. Not for your peace of mind—but, because it keeps you complacent. It’s not like you don’t see it, anyway. You know the evils of this world well.

“You need to be careful when we get there. Things get rough for humans up there. You need to remember that you can’t trust the words that come from their mouths.” 

How long until snow powders the ground? The scenery around you has already grown wintry—trees are sparse, and foliage is hardier. It all is so much more muted. Probably not too long. 

“We’re going to be infiltrating The Queen’s Court. She’s always pledged allegiance to him, but The King wants eyes and ears in the north.”

The King thinks that she’s going behind his back? There’s more in this world that you are oblivious to than you imagined. You’ve been under the impression that the Northern Queen was starkly allegiant to The High King. It makes sense, though. There isn’t much incentive to keep humans in the know on faerie politics when you’re just here to be working bodies. “Does he have any reason to believe that?” you ask. It would be nice to have some more information. 

Taehyun explains, “The Northern Court and High Court have had a history of tension. It’s why it became a tradition to send their children to intermingle with each other’s courts. However, the Queen hasn’t upheld that tradition for at least the past hundred years.” An extra chilly breeze licks at your cheeks, and you shiver. You are definitely making progress northward. 

“So, he risks the lives of his heirs?” you ask, pursing your lips. If the northern court is supposed to be so vicious, you cannot imagine why The King would even consider it, especially if relations are supposed to be so strained.

“The Queen would not outright harm them. She values the power that his alliance gives her too much, and she would lose the war that would follow. She is the scheming type.” Taehyun tugs up the hood of his cloak to keep the wind from chapping his skin, and you do so with yours as well. “Which is why we’re going up there in the first place.” 

You acknowledge his answer with a nod. The wind whips past you, and you have to fight it to keep your eyes open. You would appreciate the accompanying snowfall if it was not blowing wildly down on you and stinging your cheeks. With a flex of your fingers, you confirm that they’re still mobile, but they’re lethargic and locked up in the cold. A powdery layer of snow builds on the ground, and you curse it for the way it has your toes freezing through even your leather boots. 

“Can,”—Your teeth chatter—“Can we get a fire going, or something?” 

You catch a glimpse of his face under his hood as he turns to you. His nose and cheeks are rosy, but it seems that the cold affects him less than it does you. The snow is high enough now that you have to drag your feet through with each forward step. Is the rest of the way going to be like this? You might freeze to death, then. 

“We’ve got a bit of time. Let’s get as far as we can, before stopping.” 

You roll your eyes. Maybe he wants you to freeze to death, and then he could be freed from any trace of what had happened last night. You bring your hands to your mouth and let out warm puffs of air as if it would thaw out your poor hands and nose. 

Your mouth struggles to even form words.“I would appreciate living to see tomorrow,” you say slowly. You still lace it with plenty of attitude.

Taehyun doesn’t respond. 

❈

Taehyun curses as visibility wanes to only a few feet. All that lays in your path is whipping snow and haze. 

Your boot catches on something beneath the snow, and you tumble. Frigid snow and ice shards greet you on the ground, biting your skin. Looking up, you find Taehyun gone. He has to be at least somewhere in the gray haze around you; it’s only been a few seconds. If you can’t find him, you’ll die here. That isn’t up for debate.

 “Taehyun?” you shout, your voice muffled and carried away by the howling wind. 

You stay where you are, but lift yourself from the ground. You can’t start wandering blindly, you’ll end up separating further from him.

He calls your name, but it’s distant. 

“Here,” you say, “I’m over here!” 

There are many ways that you do not want to die, but you especially do not want to die like this. Your throat tightens the longer he doesn’t respond. 

“Taehyun?” 

He appears through the veil of snow and haze. A cry erupts from your throat, your voice breaking with relief. He takes you by the arm and tugs you behind him wordlessly, searching for something.

“I thought I was dead,” you say to the air, but it mostly drowns you out. 

“I know.” His voice is thick. “I did too.” 

He finds whatever it is that he seems to be searching for, and you might cry as you recognize the rocky opening to be a cavemouth. You won’t be dying today, at least. 

“I’m going to start a fire,” Taehyun announces only moments after you both duck under the low cavemouth and step into the refuge of the cave walls.

“You’ll get lost.” It’s true, but you also just cannot stand the idea of sitting in this cave alone for any extended amount of time. Your hand is barely visible in front of you, and it’s only getting darker as the blizzard grows thicker outside. 

“I’ll be fine. You’re going to freeze to death without it,” he says, before he dips out, leaving you alone and shivering. He could’ve at least given you a second to protest.

You’re not usually too scared of the dark, but you do press your back to the wall, decorated with liverwort, and sit. Getting separated earlier nags at your mind. You have to remember that you aren’t safe. A line of work like this guarantees it. You could easily have become a body losing heat out in that flurry of wind and snow. You would’ve died before ever seeing the fruits of what you could make of yourself; would’ve died living an insignificant life. Some jaded part of you wonders what Taehyun might’ve felt if you had. Would he move on with this assignment without delay?

At least the wind is no longer circulating about the cave and producing the howl that has been haunting you. There are no such wintry winds to freeze up your extremities in here, but it’s still cold enough to have you shuddering and tucking your hands underneath your knees to ration your warmth. 

Will you even be able to make it all the way to the Northern Court? You imagine telling Taehyun that you can’t handle it, or that you’re going back, and you imagine the look that would fall over his face. No. You’d become a statue of ice, frozen forever at a crossroads between a meaningless life and new beginnings, before that. 

The cold beckons you to sleep, and the aching in your tired back and limbs say that sleep is a splendid idea, but you resist. You need to see him return so that you know that a fire will warm your aching bones to sleep. But you are so cold, and sleeping it away sounds so nice… 

Your eyelids are heavy, and it’s harder to keep them open than it is to just let them fall. Your veins are sluggish with the cold.

When your head drops, you’re brought back to consciousness, but it’s so, so cold when you’re awake. It’s so cold that it burns. Even your lungs are slow and weary. 

You are so cold that you can no longer shiver. 

Something is muffled and shuffling beyond your shivering huddle, but you can’t rally the energy to worry about it. You hang suspended between dream and consciousness. You want both so badly.

Taehyun curses. “I need you to stay awake,” He says. You can only muster a nod for him. Your eyes protest as you hold them open, watching Taehyun hastily sparking up a fire. He strikes rocks against each other, growing more frustrated each time a spark doesn’t catch. When one does, the flame starts slowly on the snow-wetted wood. Your skin tingles under the warmth radiating from it. The roiling flame is intense, having been cold for so long. 

You bask in the fire’s flickering light. Movement comes easier to your limbs as you defrost. Taehyun produces a few hardy roots and skins them with a dagger that glints in the low light, then sets them to roast over the flame. 

“How did you find those?” you say. It was hard to even walk out there, and you’re sure it had gotten worse while he was out. How would he even find them under the snowpiles, unless he knew where to look?

He gives you a long look, as if considering something. “Just got lucky digging through the snow while I was looking for the wood.” 

That explanation doesn’t make sense; finding three subsurface roots underneath thick snow is different from finding hunks of wood protruding from it. It might be the truth, but you decide to ask, “Under the snow?” 

Fire crackling is the only sound to fill the silent moment as he doesn’t answer. Well, if you weren't already iffy, you are now. He watches the flames prance around for a charged moment, the reflection of it shimmering in his dark eyes. 

“I’m from the north,” he finally says. You frown. Why hadn’t he just said that in the first place? 

“Is that why your ears aren’t pointed?” you ask, sitting up a bit. He pulls the roots, lightly toasted, off the fire. 

His gaze rips away from the flame, landing on you. His eyes are a little too intense for such a simple question. “No,” he says.  His behavior tickles a curious part of you; if you’re going to be on this assignment together for so many weeks, then it’s best to get to know each other. You also have been intensely curious about his ears from the moment you noticed their curvature. It’s odd to see fundamentally human features on a faerie. 

You don’t mean to be overly invasive, though, and you feel bad for prodding so much as his face hardens. You hadn’t thought too much about why it might be a sensitive subject for him; you just wanted to satisfy your curiosity. You’re seconds from telling him that you like his ears, but he speaks before you can. 

“My mother was human,” he says, his eyes trained on the cave floor in front of him. He’s half human? That’s why he’s so averse to mentioning his ears—he’s embarrassed by his human mother. You stew over that. If he dislikes his mother for her humanity, it explains how he has acted concerning you. You pity him, though. It would be difficult to belong anywhere with that specific mix of blood: humanity fears him, and Faerie does not treat half-blooded faeries as truly its own.

“She hid herself away when she found she was pregnant, and gave birth to me where she thought she would be safest. She knew what my father would do. He found her eventually. He killed her because she was dirt on his name. He couldn’t kill me, though.” Your stomach does a sickened flip. You know that, by faerie honor, he would have to raise Taehyun.

“I’m so sorry, Taehyun,” you say. He just presses his lips thin and hands you a roasted root to eat. 

“I hated him for it more each day, so one day I took a blade to my ears and made sure I never resembled him again. At least, in that way.” Your heart lurches. The thought of him carving off the points of his ears to spite his dad… He had maimed himself, and you’ve been poking and prodding him about it. You wince.

You want to apologize again, but you have a feeling that he doesn’t want any more apologies, and you don’t know him well enough to comfort him in any meaningful way. Instead of saying something that you’re sure will ring hollow, you say, “The faerie that stole me from my parents was a seamstress. She wanted a human girl to work her shop for her, without having to pay wages like she would for a faerie. It was taxing work, even when I was this tall,”—you denote the height of a child six or seven years old with your hand—“Maybe she just didn’t know what it means to raise a human child, but she wasn’t the best replacement for parents. She knew that I needed to be fed at least regularly, and provided everything I needed for hygiene, but she didn’t know that I needed a mother. She gave me an education, and I know that humans here don’t usually get that. I’m grateful for it—I really, really am, but it’s just… The fact that it was more for her own benefit than out of the goodness of her heart…” 

Taehyun listens, his eyes reflecting the oranges and yellows of the fire. You know that you’re rambling. “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is… I guess…” You hope the yellow glow of the flames is enough to disguise your embarrassment, and also that he doesn’t think you’re trying to upstage him. You just feel wretched for putting him in a position where he had to surrender such dark memories to you.

He doesn’t say anything, taking a root from the fire for himself and biting into it. 

You bite into the fat, tuber-like root too, appreciating its nutty flavor, and you embrace the silence that grips the cave. Only the garbling of the fire speaks, but it is a comfortable quiet. 

❈

The snowstorm must’ve died down while you slept, because the snow isn’t too much higher when you and Taehyun set back out the next day. It’s a bit of a drag to fight the mountains of snow it left with each step, but you don’t complain. 

Sunlight shimmers off ice crystals and sends droplets down from snow-dusted branches and to your cheeks. Every breath into your lungs is crisp, but you have bundled yourself in the thermal clothing from the bag Taehyun had packed for you, so you’re mostly comfortable. At least your fingers and toes are mobile now. 

Taehyun says that you have less than a day until you’re there. You repeat that like a mantra in your head as your feet ache with the strain of traveling so far by foot. He hasn’t said much else since, though, and you wonder if it has anything to do with last night’s topics of choice. His shoulders are as tense as his demeanor. 

It’s getting boring walking for hours on end, and Taehyun isn’t the most talkative. The most you get for entertainment is your thoughts and watching the scenery change. So, you decide to put this time to use. You apply the silent walking technique that he had taught you despite how awfully your feet ache. It’s harder in the snow, but you’re better off knowing how to do it even in extraneous circumstances. You don’t know all that you’ll be facing in the north. Sliding your sword off your back, you realize how much it had been dragging your back down. No wonder your spine aches…. You practice swings and jabs, still sloppy with inexperience. 

Taehyun hears you, and says over his shoulder, “Don’t push yourself today. You were close to freezing to death last night, just recharge your energy.” 

Was it so bad? You know you had gotten pretty cold, but you feel fine now. “I was just exhausted, not freezing. We walked forever yesterday.” 

You continue trying to get used to the weight of a sword in your hands. 

Trees start coming fewer and farther between, and though the snow on the ground grows lower, it is crusted over in an icy layer that you have to break through with each step. Everything is sharper and more icy, less fluffy and light. Icicles drip from trees so sharp they could substitute for a weapon. You put away your sword; the ground is slick, and you’ll fall if you don’t think your steps through. You’ve got to be in the Northern Kingdom, now. 

You walk like this for a while longer, only sparse trees and shrubbery, until an estate standing tall on the snowy flat peeks through the midday haze. An ancient and gnarled blackthorn tree sits proud on the estate’s grounds. Its spiny branches, bare of any fruit or leaf, twist among themselves. They remind you of impish claws.

Taehyun is heading straight for the estate. 

“Are we about to meet somebody?” you ask, closing the distance between you with a little jog. 

He shakes his head. “It’s my father’s residence.” 

You stop, and he makes it a few steps ahead of you before he realizes. “We’re meeting your father?” you say. The thought turns your mouth to cotton. He had killed Taehyun’s human mother. Faerie hospitality doesn’t seem to mean much to him, and you don’t think he’ll like you much.

Taehyun’s brow creases. “What? No,” he says, looking back at the estate. “He’s been dead for a while.” 

You reign in the relief that you feel, but that tidbit of information renders you curious again. Faeries don’t die of old age. How had he died? Is Taehyun pleased that he’s gone?

“Oh,” you say, not pushing it. You learned that lesson yesterday. “Good, ‘cause I’m not in any shape to be meeting anybody right now.” You drag your fingers through your knotty and tousled hair to make a statement. It’s wet in some places, where snowflakes found their way to your head and melted there. You’re sure it looks even worse than it feels. “Are we staying here, then?” You could use someplace to make yourself look less like you’ve just traveled three straight days, and it’s relatively optimistic that the sizable estate ahead of you has what you might need. 

Taehyun hums in confirmation. 

You approach the heavy ironwood front doors, and you gape at the wood interior and high ceilings. Nut-hatch’s humble cottage was more than the roaming life the wilder fae prefer, but it pales next to this. Charcoal-black banners hang down from the mezzanine and are embroidered with silver into a family crest that resembles the blackthorn tree that sits on the grounds outside.  

“Who, exactly, was your father?” you ask, running fingers along the top of the dusty dining table that sits center of the estate. The sight of the empty chairs that encircle it is almost mournful.

Taehyun doesn’t answer, and when you look for him to see why, he is planted to the floor. A muscle feathers in his jaw as takes in the estate.

“He was general of The Queen’s guard. And, I guess, also a lord in her court.” There’s icy distance in his voice.

This is absolutely the estate of an esteemed general and lord if you’ve ever seen one. 

“Anywhere for me to clean up?” you ask. You don’t want to intrude on whatever he’s dealing with returning here.

He nods, pointing up to the mezzanine floor where the walls are lined with doors. “There should be some stuff left over. You can use whatever you find.” 

You follow him as he leads to a room. As you draw yourself a bath with water warmed over a fire stove, you cannot help but wonder what awful memories this place might hold for him in its ornate, wooden walls.

❉

Waking up in the warm sheets of a plush bed was a soothing balm for your aching joints and bones. Your hair is fresh and perfumed with the soaps and powdery-scented oils left over in the bathing room. You delighted in brushing out the tangles. The estate is full of pleasures that only the gentry could find mundane; you, on the other hand, are only left scheming how you might make this life your own. 

You don’t see much of Taehyun all day, until he pokes into the bedroom you’re staying in and informs you that you’re attending Court tonight, and though you’ve known for a while now, a thick ball of nerves coils up in your stomach. 

You unstring your travel bag, worrying that you’ll have to wear what you arrived here in, but Taehyun had packed accordingly. You tug out a mute dress, beige in color, and embroidered in the bodice and skirt of it with bronze threads. The short, puffed sleeves are pretty. There isn’t much to decorate yourself with, no pretty pins or silk shoes in the dressing tables or wardrobes, so you just wear your hair as it is and lace up your traveling boots for footwear. You find yourself in the mirror to be prettier than you’ve ever looked. Any dresses you’ve had access to in your life have been largely unspecial, and they marked you as a human servant. Even nakedness, in the land of Faerie, is more ornate than those kinds of dresses.

You hold the skirts of your dress up and above your feet so that it does not tread on wet snow and dirt as you and Taehyun leave the estate for Court. The knots in your stomach don’t let up any. You know you’ll stick out as a human, that’s a given, but you are deeply terrified you’re going to make a fool out of yourself by forgoing some unspoken faerie revel rule. You can’t compromise your assignment. Does Taehyun know you’ve never partied alongside the fae? Humans often attend faerie revels in the High King’s court, but are they even allowed to do so here?

Taehyun is dressed lavishly, clad in black from head to foot, and he wears a sleeved doublet encrusted with shimmering black beads and threads that glitter in the moon’s light. He wears the black fur pelt of some beast around the collar of his neck. He resembles entirely the son of a general. You feel plain, next to him. 

“What do I do when we get there?” you ask, stepping around a puddle encased in a thin layer of cracked ice.

“The King wants to know if anything is going on, so you need to just listen. Look around a little, talk to people you think are interesting, and go from there.” 

Sounds simple enough. 

A thick forest surrounds the snowy flat that Taehyun’s estate sits on, and as you approach it, Taehyun says, “When we’re there, you can’t dance, no matter how badly you’ll want to.” 

“I won’t.” You reassure him, but you’ll just run on the hope that Taehyun sticks near you. Faerie celebration is untamed, and if a human happens to dance among them, they will not be able to regain control over themselves until a faerie takes pity and pulls them out. That isn’t usually the case, though. The folk delight in seeing humans lose themselves to the abundance of faerie delights. 

Taehyun accepts your answer, but he stops at one of the many wax-leaved holly trees and plucks a few jewel-red berries from their branches. Holly berries are faerie wards, and humans often carry a handful of them in their pockets to protect themselves from simple faerie glamours. 

“I don’t have anywhere to keep them,” you say, taking the berries he drops into your hands. You feel around your dress to reaffirm that it doesn’t have any hidden pockets or pouches. None. 

He produces a needle and some twine thread, offering it to you. 

“What?” you say, a little lost. Obviously, he wants you to do something with it, because the berry’s juices would burn him, but you’re not exactly sure what. 

“String the berries on it, and then I’ll show you.” 

You purse your lips and do so as you continue on your way to the revel. Some squish as you do, but you tug them down the thread anyway. The thread seems long enough to wear as a necklace. 

When you’re done stringing the berries, you look up to find that you’ve arrived. You admire how The Queen’s hall of revelries is not even a true hall, and is instead formed with tree trunks for walls and their branches for ceilings. Off-kilter faerie music twists and turns and floats alive in the air; the lilting flutes urge your limbs to move. Maybe it’ll be more difficult to stay off the dancing floor than you had initially anticipated. 

Taking the strung berries from your hands, Taehyun gives you a look that you yet again cannot decipher before walking around you. He takes the top section of your hair into his hands. 

“What are you doing?” you say. 

He sections the hair into two and spins the pieces before pinning them in place. He continues fiddling with it for a bit, tugging something around and in between the hair, and then steps away. You feel your hair. He had pinned the hair into a half-updo with an ornamental hair comb and braided the berry string through it as a ward that doubles as a pretty hairstyle. It’s a fairly intricate hairstyle.

“How’d you learn to do hair?” you ask, spinning to face him. 

He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s intuitive.” 

You laugh a nose-crinkling laugh for the first time in a while and take him by the elbow to drag him toward the reverie ahead of you. 

❉

You stand eating fruity delicacies and glazed meats off banquet tables, to curb your anxieties. There is plenty to enjoy—throngs of faeries dancing like nobody's watching to the rich song of the fiddle, long tables surrounded by chatting folk and rendered full with the plumpest of fruits and blocks of various cheeses. You had worried that you would stick out as a human attending Court in the north, but you have quickly realized that most are more worried about sinking in the debauchery than ogling you. There are so many conversations to listen to, but you don’t have the slightest clue which to even begin with. The Queen does not make an appearance today, but you don’t know if she ever even does. 

You stand here, though, because Taehyun suggested it was best you split off and try to cover the most you can. You’ve been trying your best to strain your ear, but it all blurs into Court jargon to you. You inspect each of your snacks for the poisons Taehyun had taught you. It’s not like anybody cared enough to poison you, but Faerie courts are fickle. 

A tap on your shoulders has you turning around to face the most beautiful faerie man you have ever seen. His brown eyes twinkle under the chandeliers hanging from branches overhead as he regards you, as do the plethora of crystals sewn into his extravagant white get-up. You gulp down the last of the cheese block in your hand.

He smiles, the corners of his lips turned up in a cheeky tilt. “Are the snacks any good?” he says. 

It feels a bit odd that he’d be worrying what a human thinks of the food, but you reply anyway, “The cheese is fantastic.” 

He laughs, having just watched you gulp down the last bit of it. His honeyed laugh compels laughter from you, too. And, so quickly that you don’t notice it, the rest of the revelry fades around you. 

“Do you want to dance?” he says, gesturing over at the whirling sea of faeries. He holds himself with grace, down to his posture.

Your lips tug down into a disappointed frown. There are quite a few things you’re better off not doing here, but that is what you should do the least. “I don’t think I should.”

His eyes flicker with understanding, but his smile doesn’t falter any. “I’ll pull you out if it becomes too much,” he says. “I promise you that.” He presses a pristine hand over his chest, right at his heart, in testament to his sincerity. 

Well, his words are plain enough to know that he isn’t lying. But you’re not here to dance; you’re here to perform your duties. 

He can tell that you’re not convinced as he studies your face. “We can always stay here and enjoy these,”—he pops a cube of cheese in his mouth, so his next words are muffled—“No problem.”

His quickness to compromise is unfamiliar to you.“Let’s have some cheese.” You try to emulate his smile with your mouth, but you’re sure it looks better on him because he throws his head back and laughs. 

The more you study his features, the more you realize how reminiscent of a fox they are. “Can I ask your name, pretty?” he says. The sugary-sweet words taste good in your mouth, and they rot your inhibitions. You shouldn’t be sitting here twirling your hair. Where is Taehyun under this canopy of branches? You wonder if he’s catching any useful stuff. Guilt digs its claws at your skin. 

You flounder and try to catch your name as it seems to slip away from your mind and into the air. You’re not always this ditzy, it’s just that his sharp eyes and mouth confuse you. You tell him your name. 

“Are all human names as pretty as yours?” he says. He thinks your name is beautiful? Human names are unspirited and prone to repetition, not singular like a faerie name. 

You’re not sure how to respond, so you deflect. “What’s your’s?”

His black hair slides over his eyes as he tilts his head, eyes alight. He wears so much on his face. You’re wary, though. Maybe he is cunning like the fox, maybe his face tells you a different story than his mind. You worry again why he is sitting here making conversation with you.

“Yeonjun,” he says, and you try to remember when he had gotten so close.

“Well, Yeonjun,” you say, trying his name in your mouth. “I’m not the most interesting, so if you’re looking for entertainment, I don’t think you’ll find too much here.”

His eyes roam your face for a few heartbeats. “I think you’re plenty interesting. Maybe the most interesting lady this court has had the pleasure of keeping.” His use of the word lady, addressing you, feels good in a bittersweet way. You’re a far cry from a lady, but the sound of it settles deep in your bones and warms you. 

The way he sees your burning cheeks, and seems to delight in it, should alarm you. You know his words are saccharine. But, his attention is delicious. You find yourself hoping he’ll stay here and keep you company until the night is over. 

“Okay, now I know you’ve got to be up to something,” you say. 

He grins and, stepping back, says, “I’m going to go get something for you. Don’t move.” He slips through the gaps of chatting revelers before you can tell him that you won’t move; that you’ll be right here all night because you should be. Taehyun trusts that you’re doing your job. You sigh a breath, trying to force down the guilt that gnaws hungrily at you again. 

You make an effort to tune your ears into the conversations around you. There was so much you could’ve missed in the time you spent talking to Yeonjun. 

As you do, pair of frilly and silk-draped faerie girls, one with skin like white snow and crystalline wings at her back, and the other with hair inlaid with glittering strands of gold, approach the banquet table arm-in-arm. You hate the way their eyes land on you, and then on your awful dress. You hate the look they share, and the way one hoots at something the other says. Your skin burns with how you become something to laugh at. 

You don’t notice Yeonjun’s return until he steps in front of you, his hands full with a bounty of bonbons and indulgences from various tables throughout the hall. 

“I want you to try these,” he says. You shoot him a skeptical eye, raising a brow, to which he scoffs and says, “I just wanna know what you think. They’re my favorites.” 

You take a sweetmeat and place it in your mouth. Your brows shoot up at its full, mallow flavor. 

“You have a sweet tooth?” you ask, chomping on another. 

“You could say that,” he says. The flip of his words and the facetious raise of his brows make you feel that he isn’t just talking about confectionaries. You squirm a bit under his heavy gaze. 

You continue taste-testing the sweets he brought, but your mind keeps cruelly spinning the jeering of those faerie girls. You scorn your inadequacies; your inability to be a worthy spy, and your inability to ever fit in. It would be easier to act as one with the court and to coax out meaningful secrets if you look at least like you belong. However, Yeonjun seems like the only place you have to start. 

“You meant what you said about pulling me out if it becomes too much?” you say. 

Yeonjun doesn’t look at all taken aback by your words. He must’ve seen the way your eyes flickered over to the rambunctious dancefloor. “Of course. I won’t let you lose yourself, and nobody will touch a hair on your head.” 

“Let’s dance,” you say, and giddiness blooms wide in your chest. Is dancing among the faeries as enchanting as it's said to be? 

Here’s to finding out.

Yeonjun brings you to the dance floor, and he smiles down at you as you begin moving. Your limbs are heavy with hesitance. His hands find your waist, and the touch soaks up the stiffness right from you. Suddenly, you are alive in ways that you hadn’t known you could be before. Your boots slide over the packed earth, and he guides you to a rhythm that you can feel thrumming in your bloodstream. Yeonjun’s eyes are on your face. You can feel the other dancers all around you, and you brush up against some here and there, but you don’t mind much. You feel the music in your heartbeat. His fingertips dig divots into your skin, and it’s the only thing you can really feel. 

He leans in over your shoulder. “I heard what they said. Do you want dresses? I can give you dresses more beautiful than those girls could dream of wearing.” 

It takes the words a bit to cut through the fog in your head, but you narrow your eyes at him. “Is this one really so bad?”

He squeezes his eyes shut in a laugh, as if that were ridiculous, and then opens them to look you in your eyes. “Pretty, you’d look delightful even in your bare skin.” He tugs your bodies impossibly closer, melding them together into one spinning thing. “But, if what they said hurt you, I will give you whatever it is you ask for.”

Even in your hazy state, you know that doesn’t sound right. But, you don’t ask why he would bother with that, you only lose yourself further into his eyes. They devour you.

The music grows faster, and faster, and faster, coiling itself up and around your legs, willing them to dance for you. Yeonjun’s hands grab here and smoothe over there, exploring. Mapping. 

“Do you love it?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your head is swimming, crashing through the throes of waves, and the undercurrent of panic only thrills you into dancing more. 

His eyes rove over you in a languid pass, before he kisses you like your lips are the sweet delicacies he so loves. You are as lost in his lips as you are the spirit of the dancefloor. His hot tongue explores and licks at your lips. The world swirls behind your eyes even as they are squeezed shut, but you welcome the dizzying nature of it. Your heart jumps from its cage in your chest as he brushes a hand along your collarbone, sliding it up the side of your neck, and then places it at the back of your head, pushing you further into his kiss. A vignette blurs your vision, lungs burning for air, but you can’t find it in you to care. 

You’re abruptly pulled from the messy tangle of galavanting bodies. Like if someone were to just halt the Earth’s spinning on its axis, your body reels. Your mind comes back to you, but it’s scattered, and your heart pounds like drumbeat in your head. 

Someone speaks. It’s Yeonjun’s voice. He situates you in between two of the pillar trees that make the walls of the hall, and you drag in the night air. It’s so fresh it burns your lungs a bit to breathe. 

“I feel like shit,” you say. Your heart is still running amok in your chest. 

He snorts. “Yeah, I bet. I’m sorry I didn’t notice that you were slipping earlier.”

You’re unsure how long you two danced, but the sky is breaking into day, so it had to have been for way longer than you remember. You groan. Taehyun has to be looking for you. Or, perhaps he left without you.

“Something wrong?” he asks, watching you recover.  

“No, no, I’m fine,” you say. “Thank you for that. I’ve never done anything like it.”  

His eyes crinkle. He really, really, is beautiful, down to the points of his ears. “You don’t need to thank me. Seeing you enjoy yourself like that was a sight for sore eyes.” 

You laugh a little, looking out at the way the sun crests over the horizon from your little hiding spot. The breeze does wonders in brushing up on your blazing skin and placating it. The thrill still lingering in you makes you wonder if you could claim such a life for yourself.

The sound of Taehyun’s voice saying your name rips out that seedling of hope, and stomps it down into the ground. It was a useless hope, anyway. As he approaches you, Yeonjun nods his head in greeting. Taehyun’s face is drawn, but he bows low at the waist. It’s quite a formal greeting. 

“It’s time to go,” Taehyun says, addressing you. His eyes are searching yours like he’s trying to find some answer in them. It seems he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. 

A crooked smile tugs at Yeonjun’s lips. “Is she under your care?” he asks. It’s a less direct way of asking: does she belong to you? 

Taehyun’s face morphs into something hard, but his words remain cordial. “Yes, she is.” You know he says it because it’s the best way to explain why a human would be attending Court, but for some reason, you had expected Taehyun to answer that a little differently. 

Taehyun gives you a meaningful look and tilts his head to the side in a silent way to say let’s go. You curtsy a farewell to Yeonjun, letting a soft smile onto your lips before you depart with Taehyun. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything at all, but you feel his eyes following you. 

You walk without words until you clear the hall and reach the forest, where the thicket can muffle your sensitive words and keep them just for you. “Did you find anything?” he says. His attention stays ahead, and his jaw is a bit strained. Here it comes; he saw you wasting time. 

“Nobody around me was talking about anything other than gossip until I ran into him. His name is—”

“I know who he is.” Taehyun snaps. “Please, enlighten me. What did you learn of him?” 

His words feel a bit like he’s spinning you a web. A trap. You don’t even have anything to offer him, because you hadn’t learned anything about Yeonjun.

“You made a promise to me. You promised you wouldn’t dance at all, and I find you dancing with The King’s son.” The world trembles underneath you at his words. You were flirting with a prince all night. You kissed a prince.

The dam of guilt and embarrassment and shame that has been filling you throughout the night crumbles and washes over you. “I didn’t mean to waste time, Taehyun. He just seemed like the most interesting person to talk to. I thought that maybe I could hear something interesting from him.” Your legs protest as you lift them to step over a tall bush. Dancing had exhausted you down to your marrow. “A prince seems like a pretty good place to find information, though.” 

“Does kissing him entail hearing something interesting from him?” His words are spat, and when he looks at you, his eyes hold distaste. So he saw that, too. 

You sigh. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, either.” 

“You didn’t mean for it to happen,” he echoes, scoffing the words. “You are nowhere near serious about this. Why are you even here? Well, let me tell you this; you did not come here to suck the faces of pretty princes. This life is not yours.” 

His words are everything you don’t want to hear, and they antagonize the anger in your chest where shame had previously sat. “It’s a little hard to do what you’re asking of me when you send me in looking like this,” you say, gesturing down at your get-up. 

“This is about a dress?” Taehyun says. “You don’t need all that. They’re just putting on a show.” He doesn’t say them, but he dances delicately around the words: You’re human.

You get up in front of him so that he has no choice but to look at you. “You know that I’m going in there at a disadvantage! You know that I can’t just blend in, and it’s so much harder when I look like this.” You point your finger at him accusatorily. “And, did you even get anything? You’re sitting here, picking me apart, but really, what did you do?” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” you say, tone mocking. 

“The difference,”—he says his words slow—“Is that I didn’t use the night to enjoy myself in snacks and courting ladies.” 

“That’s because you spent your night watching me,” you snap. If he was even trying to pick up information, he wouldn’t have had his eyes on you the whole time. “You just wanted to catch something to give me shit about. Can you not see any value in following this thread? If Yeonjun is the king’s son, and he’s taken interest in me, imagine what I can catch hanging around him.” The estate appears on the snow flat as you two clear the forest. The sun hangs well in the sky, now. Ugly hurt twists in your chest. Yeah, you could’ve been more alert, but you can easily turn whatever you’ve got going on into something. 

Taehyun shakes his head at you. “I want you to remember this one thing, if you’re going to remember anything I tell you at all. The folk will never fail to make you into a spectacle. Your duties lie in The King, and only that.”

You walk the rest of the way to the estate, and then split off to your rooms, in an awful silence that sits itchy under your skin. It’s always silence, with Taehyun.

❈

Taehyun’s accusatory voice wakes you up from a hard slumber. You don’t have time to even blink out the sleep from your eyes as he roars, and you listen.

“You had him send you dresses?” There is a scorching flame blazing in his eyes, and they blister you.

“Huh?” 

His face is pulled into a sneer. “You had the prince send you dresses because you decided you wanted pretty things? What are you doing?” He holds a silvery, glittering gown in one arm.

His words remind you of what Yeonjun had said to you last night, and you curse. How would he even know where to send them? 

“I didn’t ask him to do anything,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m telling you that I didn’t, and I mean it! I didn’t ask him to send me dresses.” You slink out of the mess of a bed, the wood flooring cold under your feet.

“So a royal errand runner shows up at the door, with a pile of dresses directly addressed to you, and I’m supposed to believe that it’s random?” 

“Why don’t you just believe me?” you ask, and the words sound pathetic even to you as they leave your mouth. “We’re supposed to be partners. You’re supposed to believe me.”

Rage dissolves from his face, but his features don’t soften. No, instead, they harden into stone. You almost wish they would twist back into fury. You can work with anger. But, whatever this thing that he does is, it leaves you unable to crack through his hardened exterior. 

“Take your shit,” he growls, tossing the dress in his arm at you, and then spinning around without care of where it lands. 

“I don’t want this, send it back to him,” you say. You go to throw the dress back at him, but his words stop you. 

“I already sent them back.”

You watch him storm out. That means that the dress in your hands is not from Yeonjun; it is from Taehyun.

❉

You hold up the gown in front of you. Looking at the sheer material of it, embellished with beads and crystals that remind you of snowflakes in the sky, feels bitter. It only reminds you of the nasty terms you and Taehyun are on. 

You haven’t seen him once today, and you assume you’re going to be heading to Court alone, too. All you can feel is resentment. 

You go about getting ready with a ten-pound weight in your mind, and Taehyun is as absent as you had imagined he’d be when you leave the estate for Court. The walk feels a bit longer this time. Though you didn’t talk much last night, the presence of Taehyun just being there was enough to ground your nerves.

All is the same as last night in the hall. The tittering of folk and the lovely aroma of burning incense spices the air, and the music is just as inviting. You find that secluded spot Yeonjun had taken you last night when he pulled you out of the crowd and lean into the tree. Tonight, you’re going to just watch which faeries interact. The more you know about who associates with who, the more you’ll be able to dissect your priorities. 

Your eyes fall over the throngs, and a majority you remember from last night, but some are new. These folk all have to be important in some capacity; they wouldn’t have a place in Court otherwise. If you look hard enough, maybe you can find who is the most important. It doesn’t help, though, that you’re not familiar with important figures in the Northern Court. Taehyun forgets that he was born into this Court, and you are a foreign human girl. You may be better off playing into your ability to lie; maybe you should spin up a good falsity and ask around with it. 

You’re halfway to the crowd with the intent to poke around when Yeonjun steps into your line of vision. His wry smile is inviting, but you can’t do this again. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. “But, I don’t recognize that dress.” He looks you over. 

“You didn’t tell me who you were, last night,” you say, crossing your arms. 

Yeonjun’s suave falters. “Ah. He told you. Did he also not like me sending you those dresses? You sent them back.” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Please, I don’t appreciate being toyed with.” 

His lips tug into the first frown you’ve seen worn on his ethereal face. “You wound me. I don’t just send gifts like that to anybody. I’m not toying with you. Not even a little bit.”

You’re not sure what to make of his words. He seems like the type that, even when his lips can not form the shape of lies, he would hide them in between the gaps of truths. But you do see sincerity shining in his eyes. 

“I didn’t even get to see the dresses,” you say, relenting to the conversation. If he insists on making your company, you’ll entertain him. You wouldn’t dare shoo a prince away, anyway, and his words are a soothing balm to every thought that tugs at your mind. 

“Did he give you this one?” he asks, looking down at the glittering thing. 

You hum, nodding your head. You wonder if Taehyun has made it here tonight, or if he is even here at all. You’re going to put all your eggs in this basket. If it leads you nowhere, you’ll deal with that when you get there. You don’t know where else to start. 

“They’re all yours, whenever you decide you want them. Just come and ask me, sweet thing. I’ll even send you more if you want.” 

His words shoot a thrill through you, for whatever reason. It’s hard for you to imagine a life where those kinds of things can be given away so easily. 

“Do you want to dance tonight?” He says. His fingers are warm against your skin as he takes your upper arm into his hand. Each time he rubs his thumb over the skin there, it makes you shiver more than it soothes you. You don’t remember much of the time you had spent dancing last night, but you do remember his kiss.

You really can’t do that. You need to do something that keeps you present so that you can pick up on stuff. 

You tilt your head to one side and offer, “How about you show me around? I wanna see your hiding places. I know you’ve got some.” You smile a heart-felt smile; running around the hall and discovering the nooks and crannies Yeonjun hides away in actually sounds like fun. It’ll familiarize you with the layout of Court, as well.

Yeonjun agrees, his face lighting up. He brings you around to alcoves and hollows that you wouldn’t imagine even existed unless he was showing you. Leave it to a faerie to find little places to hide.

“How often do you come to the north?” you say. Taehyun had said that The King sends his heirs here for foreign relations. It must be why he’s here. 

Yeonjun pauses his touring. “Most of the year. My father prefers me here, so he sends me out often.” You’re a bit taken aback by how generous he is with the information. You had expected to sly-foot it from him. 

The King sounds like a paranoid, centuries-old man. Maybe you and Taehyun will find something in your time here that proves his fears right, though. It’s just as probable that tensions run deeper than you think.

“Why doesn’t he have The Queen send one of her children to his domain if it’s for diplomacy? It’s a bit strange that she swears fealty to him, but he’s the one sending his heirs out.” Also, why does he have you and Taehyun here, undercover, when his son is here already?

Yeonjun shushes you with a finger over his lips, and it reminds you that you can’t just say all that comes to your mind here. He doesn’t seem to take any offense, though. 

“The Queen doesn’t send her children out as emissaries.” His words take on a rueful, bitter note. The look plastered on his face says what his words don’t: The King does, though.

Yeonjun is good company, and you don’t notice how night bleeds into day. 

“I should probably go now,” you say. Your dress itches and your feet ache in a way that calls for the lush bed waiting for you back at the estate. The revelry is still very much alive and kicking, and the crowds haven’t even begun thinning, but they’re so drunk on pinot wines and faerie spirits that you doubt they even feel the toll the night is taking on their bodies.

He nods. “Let me walk you home?” He offers you an arm, his smile so very sweet. You would like nothing more than to have someone to accompany you on the trek home. The walk here had been dreadful in your loneliness.

You pretend to think about it for a minute, a teasing smile playing at your lips, before you say, “Why not?” 

He swipes a baked good topped with sweet fig from a platter for the journey, and begins heading for an exit between trees.

 “But!” you say, and he halts. Your eyes scan the crowd.

“What is it?” he asks, rejoining you. 

“I need to find Taehyun.” 

He offers you the delicacy in his hand. “Do you?” 

“Yeah. I need to tell him if I’m going to be leaving.” 

Yeonjun scoffs at that. He takes you by the arm and points out Taehyun in the crowd. He appears to be in conversation with a spindly, feather-skinned hob. “He’s right there. But, you’re not going to be doing all that. It’s not right that you have to report your every move to him. C’mon.” You know that he’s only saying it because he thinks that you’re Taehyun’s human servant, or something, but his words are simultaneously gratifying for your current woes.

Your laughs bounce off the darkwood trees as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder. Yeonjun has a way to him that makes you feel like you’re really living. Maybe you can let this hope fester. Maybe Yeonjun is genuinely courting you. And, you foolishly let yourself think, maybe you don’t need to be a spy to make something of yourself. 

When you make it to the door of the estate, Yeonjun is behind you, peppering warm kisses up and down your neck. You pry yourself from him to open the door, and you stumble in. You then stagger up the stairs and to your room. Yeonjun doesn’t make it any easier, roaming his hands everywhere they shouldn’t be. 

Yeonjun clicks the door shut behind himself, and your stomach drops seeing the unabated hunger written into his face as he turns and looks at you. 

You fizzle under his gaze. “Thanks for walking me,” you say. “That walk is scary alone.” 

“Turn around for me, pretty,” he says, his voice glazed with honey and sugary syrup. You do, heart thundering in your chest. Something in the deep pit of your mind feels guilt, but you don’t pay it enough mind to sort it out, you just suck in a breath and hold it as Yeonjun steps so close behind you that you can feel his breaths on your neck, and he starts working at the laces of your dress. He doesn’t lean forward and press any more kisses to your neck like you wish he would; he just undoes the ribbon, until the dress loosens on your body, and you have to hold it onto yourself. Should you drop it? Does he want you to drop it? Is he just toying with you?

A puff of air on your neck makes you shiver as he laughs softly, his face hovering over your shoulder. You wish you could see his face right now.

“You’re so tense,” he says into your ear. He takes the top of the dress into his own hands, sliding them under yours. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart is thrumming in your chest and your neck so hard that you hear it in your ears, and maybe even he can, too. He rubs a thumb over the skin where the dress starts to slip. 

“Tell me you want it.” 

You suck in a breath. “I want it.”

He begins letting the dress down, and you let him. Chills rise on your skin, both at the cold that meets your skin as it is freed to the air, and at the kisses and scrapes of his teeth at your now exposed shoulder. “Yeah? You want me to make you feel good?” he says, and you can hear the tease in it. His words douse you in flame.

“Yes, Yeonjun, please,” you say, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. He makes it so hard to sound like the confident spy that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you are.

The dress droops lower and lower on you, releasing your skin in tantalizingly slow increments. He’s in no rush. He just continues to pamper your skin with his tongue, nipping your ear here and nibbling at your shoulder blade there. Your mind unravels a bit more with each. 

The fabric finally pools at your ankles, and the both of you sit in an electrically charged moment. 

“Turn around. Let me see you.”

When your eyes meet his, your breath catches at the way he takes you in, but mostly at the way his eyes come back up and fix on yours with such depth that you feel it in the way your heartbeat skips. You resist every urge to cover yourself, ignoring the tensing of your muscles that tell you that you should run and hide yourself away. You can’t believe that such a beautiful creature is devouring you with his eyes like this; like he wants you, like it doesn’t matter one bit to him that you are so much less than him. And maybe it should. He’s a prince. A prince of the king that you are supposed to be serving right now.

He guides you by an arm around your waist to the bed, and then stands at the foot of it, looking down on you with hazy eyes. Your stomach flips, and your knees and thighs are pressed together. He drags his bottom lip into his teeth.

“Open your legs, baby. I want to see how much you need me.” He reaches down, patting at your knee.

You hesitate, but slowly pry your knees apart, letting him see the mess that had been brewing there. The cold air immediately brushes at the wetness, and it makes you feel impossibly more exposed.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging out the word like a hiss. The raw, ravenous look in his eyes reaches deep into an unwanted part of you, that had for so long believed that you’re not worthy of anything like this. You know that you’re still not worthy of it, but you’ll happily bask in its warmth while you have it.  “So wet,” he growls, eyeing your center without ceremony, as if those aren’t the most lewd words you’ve heard spoken aloud. “Pretty, you’re dripping all over your bedspread, and I haven’t even really touched you yet. Makes me wonder if you’ve ever even been touched before.” 

Your cheeks flame the more he stands over the foot of the bed, lazily drinking you in. You haven’t. You had your first kiss in the woods somewhere a few days ago. Flashes of those memories plague you for a second, of bark on your skin and Taehyun’s hand in your hair, and that guilt that you can’t seem to place tugs at you again. You need to forget about it; Taehyun doesn’t seem too caught up on it, so why should you be? Where is Taehyun right now?

“Has he touched you? Did you let him put his hands on your skin,”—he brushes a whisper of a touch on your inner thigh, so close to your center, yet not actually paying any attention to it—“like this?” The rush that shoots up your spine is lethal. He draws such intense feelings from you with the simplest of touches in a way that borders on scary. 

Oh, yeah. Yeonjun still thinks that you’re Taehyun’s human servant, or something. You decide to just lean into it. “Why would he?” you ask. 

“Because I saw the way he looked at me yesterday,” he says, and the plush of the bed dips as he settles his knees into it. He hovers over you, notched between your thighs. You knew the truth behind that look, though. Taehyun was livid at you, at how you had shirked your duties and danced all night. You don’t know how to convey that to Yeonjun, though. Any explanation would just lead to more questions you couldn’t answer. 

He plants a line of kisses up the length of your inner thigh, just where his hand had ghosted, and you wiggle your hips in anticipation as if it would move him any faster to where you need him most. It doesn’t, he only continues to antagonize your skin with his tongue and lips. 

“Please,” you breathe. Yeonjun’s lazy eyes flick up to yours from his place between your legs, and the sight makes the blood in your veins sing. 

“You want my mouth?” he says, sitting back up onto his knees and running a smooth hand from the wet patch of skin on your thigh up and over your hip bone, and then the softness of your stomach, and then he brushes a thumb over your breast. You struggle to breathe a bit as he does, and it’s exponentially harder to as his words ricochet in your ears, cutting through the fog of your mind. 

“Yes,” you say. You can’t muster anything else. A satisfied, lopsided smile plays at his lips, and he lets his thumb over your nipple, rolling it. 

“Do you realize how badly you’ve got me?” he muses. His gaze leaves your chest, opting for your eyes as he says it. “I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I’ll do anything, if you ask it of me.” The alarm bells ringing in your ears sound more like music than warning. It should sound like too much; you’d met him yesterday. He’s a faerie, you’re a human. His words are cloying; he’s lying. He’s lying.

But, he can’t lie.

He settles his head down, a breath’s-width from providing you with relief from the burning that he so cruelly kindled there. “Here? You want my mouth here?” The words puff onto you. You can feel your ears reddening; he seems to enjoy seeing you debased. It’s like he wants to be the source of your ruination.

“Yes, right there,” you say, toes curling in anticipation. He hums, taking the back of your thighs into his hands and pressing them up. It leaves you even more exposed to him. When the first contact of his mouth to your cunt comes, it’s with a barely there roll of your clit with his tongue, but it spreads like alcohol through your system. You mewl as he holds eye contact as if entranced with the way you react to him, and swirls his tongue around it. Your hands find perch in his hair.

He is wholly overwhelming you: his hands dig divots into your thighs to hold you open for him to eat, his eyes make sure you’re watching as he does, the sound he makes into your cunt. You don’t know what else to do, other than squirm on the sheets and chant nonsensical words. The more his mouth consumes you, the more it consumes your thoughts, until you are tunnel-visioned, only able to feel his touches. He runs his tongue down, and you gasp as it prods at your entrance, but he brings it back up, and then suckles at your clit some more. 

“More,” you say. 

He detaches from you for only a moment, just to ask, “More what?”—he pushes your thighs further up, molding them to your body—“More this?” He pushes his tongue into you, and then out. 

“Mhm!” you cry, digging your hands into his hair harder. He makes a low hum of satisfaction, slurping you up, lazed, as if you were a sweet sugarplum liqueur. A tense knot settles in your belly, sending your legs jittery even as he presses them, and your toes curling in the air. Your hips roll up and into the bed wildly, chasing that knot. “Yeonjun—”

Yeonjun knows what your cries mean, pulling from your hole, if only to suction his lips around your clit. It halts every thought and word in your mind, and the knot tightens so intensely with it that it snaps. You seize up in his hands and then explode in shakes and desperate whimpers. Your body rages, but your mind is suspended somewhere in the sky, removed from you. Yeonjun lavishes you through it, despite the way his tongue bumping into your sensitive spots has you jumping. His mouth follows your hips everywhere they go as you writhe to escape it; he isn’t letting you float down, he keeps your body on that high and builds on it. Your breaths come panted and whimpered. 

“Slow—slow down, ‘jun,” you say, pushing at his head. When he pulls off of you, the sight of you all over his mouth draws a moan from you. His tongue swipes at his lips. 

“You’re divine,” he purrs. “Did that feel good, sweet thing? Do you want more?” You lay, catching your breath, trying to let the waves of aftershock dissipate so that you can articulate yourself. You feel it still thrumming in the hollows of your bones. He skirts his thumb oh-so-lightly around your throbbing clit, and it’s no help in your efforts.

You nod. “I want to make you feel good, too.” You can’t fathom letting him please you like this without returning the favor. It would be so nice to see him fall apart, too.

“Yeah?” He drinks in your state. He stops circling his thumb to press it to your bud. You let out a surprised sound, your muscles coming back to life to jolt. He acts as though he’s thinking it over, but you can see the teasing lilt on his face. “Say my name again, pretty. It sounds loveliest on your tongue.”

“Yeonjun,” you indulge him. A content sparkle in his eyes tells you that he’s gonna give you what you want. He lets your thighs down, instead resting his weight on either side of your head, leaning down to capture your lips in a sultry kiss. He tugs your bottom lip into his mouth. The scrape of his teeth is dizzying. He’s freeing himself with one hand when he pulls back, and your spine tickles with anticipation until you see the look on his face.

 Is he suddenly disgusted with you? You can feel the color drain from your skin as you ask, voice thin, “What?” He climbs off of you, and you could throw up. “What is it?” 

“I think your friend is here,” he says, adjusting his clothes. Oh. Your mind wars between relief and terror knowing that, if Yeonjun knows Taehyun is here, Taehyun knows Yeonjun is here. Damn their superior hearing. 

You curse. “Go,” you urge, slipping out of bed with sticky thighs and stumbling to the wardrobe to source a shift dress to slip into. Yeonjun thumbs your chin, tugging your face to him, and presses a parting kiss into your lips. It lingers on your lips as he lets out a soft laugh, shoving open the window and disappearing through it. You roll your eyes, finding the image of him clambering down the tree to escape quite humorous. 

You clean up and settle into the bed. Is whatever you have going with Yeonjun sustainable? Echoes of Taehyun’s voice, vicious and tart, tell you that you should get it together; that you should nip this in the bud, and focus your energies elsewhere. You want so badly to make the little girl, snatched from her home, proud. You want to fulfill her dreams. But, you can’t shake yourself from whatever hold Yeonjun is securing over you. He so casually promises to give you everything you ever ask for; would you be stupid to ignore it? Is it naive to imagine that a man would say his words and mean it? A faerie, no less? 

You sink further as sleep calls you. If Taehyun knows that Yeonjun was here, or what you had done with him, he doesn’t show up to chew you out for it. You wish he would.

❉

The next few days blur into hours of Court spent around Yeonjun and his courtly friends. You try to glean as much information as you can from it, but really, it’s mostly nothing of any importance. You begin to think that Taehyun is right; that you shouldn’t be sticking your nose into the business of a prince. If Yeonjun were to ever find out your reasons for even attending Court… Your stomach does a sickened flip. He might hate you for lying, maybe even begin thinking that you have been using him.

You really do like Yeonjun, though. It’s not just that he’s an interesting thread to follow; he treats you like you’re no different from him. Your bruised and beaten heart clings to him, hoping he’ll soothe over all the years you spent insignificant and unloved. If anything ever comes of all of your stolen nights and kisses, he’d have to know eventually. It can’t be shoved down forever, though you truly wish it could. 

You sit at the ornamental vanity in your room, combing through your hair, when Taehyun makes an appearance at the door. You haven’t had even one conversation with him following the morning Yeonjun had those dresses sent to you.

“We’re not going to Court today,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest. His face is steely. 

“Oh?” You place the boar bristle brush down. “What are we doing, then?”

He studies the room you’ve been staying in. It looks an awful lot like he’s searching for something. His eyes linger on the bed. “I think I got something last night. We’re going check it out. You’re gonna need your weapons.” 

He’s gone from the room with that. The conversation was terse and majorly discourteous, but it’s the most you’ve seen of him in multiple days. You’ll take it. Maybe you’ll even have time to plead your case today, or some way to show him that you’ve been practicing your fighting stances and memorizing poisons on the days sleep doesn’t find you as easy.

You’ve armed yourself to the teeth by the time you meet Taehyun at the bottom of the stairs. He’s armed much lighter than you.

“Did I overdo it?” you say, slicing yourself some cheese to eat on bread.

He adjusts the blade sheathed at his hip, shaking his head. “That’s just fine.” 

You frown and bite into your breakfast. What kind of information could he have gotten yesterday? The need for weapons worries you.

You like to think that you’ve adjusted to the chill of the north by now, but as you break through an untrodden forest with brambles catching your legs in each step, it does nip at your skin. You’re still only human, after all, no matter how hard you pretend yourself to be a faerie lady in the Court. You’re still only a spy, you’re reminded, as the two of you come across a mound of packed dirt sitting atop the snowy ground. It’s marked as an entrance only by a hole that looks hand-dug. You’ve lived long enough in Faerie to know that it’s more than just any old dirt hill or foxhole. The folk dwell in odd places like these.

“When we get in there, I need you to pretend that you’re a human servant. Can you do that for me?” he says. You’re unsettled, but you nod.

 You head for the entrance first. It’s just big enough for you to slip a leg into, duck under, and wiggle in. The entrance opens up, and you’re sent sliding down a chute of twigs and dirt. It takes every bit of your willpower to not make a ruckus of shouts and gasps in your descent. When your feet meet the ground you stumble to steady yourself, you know you look a mess. Taehyun makes a much more graceful descent, and you explain away any mortification with the notion that Taehyun had been anticipating it.

A throaty voice hoots almost immediately, “So, great Lord Taehyun thinks to show his face at this honkey tonk?” 

So, this is that kind of place, then. The reek of ale and wilder spirits tells you enough. What does he think he’ll learn from a place like this? Clearly, he’s known in this place, too. You’re always left with more questions about Taehyun than answers.

Taehyun doesn’t pay the barkeep any mind. “Fetch me a drink,” he says, before leaving you as he cuts through the measly crowd of revelers drowning in their merriments. You narrow your eyes and brew with distaste at his words, but you know he needs you to play the part of demure servant. You don’t know exactly why, but you can do it for him; you’d lived the role your whole life.

You scurry off, shoulders curled in, to the barkeeping hob that stands pouring foamy goblets of honey mead from barrel taps. He eyes you. “Pity you, girl,” he says. “That one’s a real brute.” 

You infer that his words are about Taehyun. Really, you should just grab a drink and go, but curiosity compels you. The faerie laughs at the questions brimming in your eyes. 

“A real, stone-cold killer,” he drawls, twisting open a different barrel. You resist the eye-roll tugging at your eyes. He’s just looking to entertain himself off of your human fright. You feign hesitance in your limbs when you accept the goblet full for Taehyun. He goes to fill another, from a third barrel. “The House of Blackthorn are all such a frightful bunch. The late Lord even more so, but he sowed a good seed of wicked into his son, regardless.” The worry you let your features into is real this time. There’s so little you know about Taehyun; this is the first you’ve ever heard of him that isn’t directly from his mouth. Should you be scared of Taehyun? Ice runs in his veins, sure, but you can scarcely imagine him as a brutal Lord. 

“One mead for the Lord, and one sugar-sweet liqueur for the lady,” the hob says, handing the drinks to you. You offer him a meek, “Thank you.” 

He shoots you an unsavory, toothy grin. “Welcome to The Hovel.” 

You find Taehyun in conversation with a sweet-faced faerie boy who strums at a lute. Their conversation tapers off as you approach. You hand Taehyun’s drink off to him. 

“You’re sure of it?” Taehyun says to the boy. 

“Yup. Just last night,” the boy says. His waved mop of blonde hair moves as he nods. You see the cogs of Taehyun’s mind turning behind his eyes as the exchange comes to a close. So, the information he was following from last night came to fruition, then. You kick yourself for your lack of any real results.

“Who was that?” you ask, voice hushed. You tilt your head at the faerie as he rejoins the other musicians, and the stream of lute song intermingles with the other instruments once again. You pretend to sip from the drink the hob had given you for free, tipping it into the dirt when you think nobody is looking. You know it’s bad manners, especially in Faerie, but you have bigger fish to fry. Taehyun hadn’t paid that boy for that info, nor had he paid the tavernkeep for his drink. You recall the hob’s words of warning. They fear him. 

He shakes his head. “Let’s get out of here, first.” 

When fresh air meets your lungs, you realize how stale and muggy the air inside the little burrow is. You pull yourself out through the exit, following Taehyun. The two of you begin your battle against the wild forest again. 

“So…?” you say. 

It’s getting colder as night arrives. His breath puffs from his mouth, furling like smoke into the air as he says, “Apparently, there were some lackeys there last night asking around about me and a human girl in cahoots with The Prince.” 

Your mind launches into a frenzy. Do they know that you’re spies? How would they even know? It’s not like the two of you have even done anything to garner any suspicion. Whoever has had their eyes on you and Taehyun has also noticed that you’re running around with Yeonjun. Is Yeonjun in danger? You gnaw at your cheeks. This person had to have been hovering around you two for days and days—not once had either of you noticed.

“Did you find out who it could’ve been?”

He shakes his head solemnly. You can tell he’s unseaming and picking apart every moment leading up to this one—you are, too. Nothing sticks out. 

You freeze in your tracks. A pretty magpie sits dead on the forest ground, its blood decorating the snow in patches. No arrow pierces it, nor is it caught in any sort of trap. It lays with its little legs in the air. The imagery is unnerving. 

“Poor thing,” you say, crouching down by it. 

Taehyun pays you and the bird no mind, but you feel that something is off when he turns to you with his limbs and shoulders stiff. “What?” you ask.

His eyes survey the forest around you. He must be hearing something that you can’t. The hair on your skin prickles. Are you being watched? Taehyun narrows his eyes, looking over the surrounding forest for a few long moments, before continuing on his way, and so you decide that you should too, despite the feeling buzzing at the back of your neck.

 Somebody comes crashing out of the foliage, securing your arms to your side before you can process that they’ve got you. They hold the point of a dagger to your chest.

Metal hisses as Taehyun frees the blade from his hip, but he doesn’t make any advancements. Your heart beats under the point of the weapon, chasing breaths as fear paralyzes your chest. 

“A little birdie told me,”—your captor says from behind you—“that I’d find you two here.” 

“Let go of her,” Taehyun says. He stands with so much restraint in his limbs.

A patronizing laugh hurts your eardrum with its proximity. He sounds like a cawing crow. “No, I don’t think I will, Lord.” He spits the title out like it is bitter in his mouth, letting the blade dig the littlest bit into your skin. You don’t even feel it with the way adrenaline buzzes in your gut, leaving your limbs shaky.

Taehyun can’t move, so you begin wiggling your fingers for your dagger. Fear chokes you. 

“You won’t miss this one, right?” the man says. He uses the metal to point up at your face, before replacing it over your heart. You’ve almost made it to your thigh, and still, he hasn’t taken notice. “I’ll just get this over with, and then we can talk about this more comfortably.” You may throw up. 

You bunch up the hem of your dress with the littlest of movements to free your thigh and slide out the dagger hidden there.

“Who told you where to find us?” asks Taehyun. Your palm is sweaty around the metal of the dagger, and you readjust your grip a few times, trying to muster the courage to swing it up.

“I told you already,”—the man readjusts his hold on you—“a little birdie.” There’s a sneer to his words. He points the tip of the dagger up to your chin, ghosting it down the column of your throat. Repressed whimpers of terror bubble to the surface. 

“Shut up,” he spits.

Taehyun challenges him. “Do it, then.” Blood roars in your ears.

“You think I won’t?” your snatcher says. 

“Do it,” Taehyun repeats, and you almost let your life flash before your eyes until you see that Taehyun is not looking at the man as he speaks; he’s looking at you. He’s telling you to do it. You tighten your grip on the dagger, before driving it behind you. It makes contact, and the faerie man bellows. You use his shock to free yourself. 

You had driven the blade deep into the man’s shoulder. He thrashes, ruby-red blood inking his fingers as he holds the wound.  

“Bitch!” he howls. “You’re fucking dead, anyway.” 

What does that mean?

Taehyun plunges his sword through the faerie before you even notice he had approached, or ask the man what, exactly, he means. He drops to the floor, mouth filling with blood. You can see it when he opens his mouth to scream and is only able to burble. His own blood chokes him. Your fingertips feel numb, and so does your face.

Taehyun turns to you. “You did good.” 

You did good? You don’t feel good.

You nod. “Thanks.”

 Now, on the forest floor of white snow, lies both a dead faerie man and a dead magpie. You feel the sensation of his skin breaking under your dagger reverberating in your hands, twisting in your mind. His blood paints the ground a nauseating shade of death-red.

“Are you okay?” Taehyun asks, eyeing you.

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, I am.”

❉

You and Taehyun attend court the next day skittish. Taehyun delegates you a new role, now; make as big of a scene with Yeonjun as you possibly can. The goal is to throw attention to that, rather than to Taehyun as he continues snooping around. 

It’s not hard to make a spectacle of you and Yeonjun when everybody is already noticing. He doesn’t hide the way he showers you with luxuries, nor does he want to. You can’t help but wonder why he’s making such a show out of it. At some point, his father will hear of him courting a human. Word flies fast in Faerie. You can’t imagine The King would be pleased.

A hand curls around your hip, and you know it’s Yeonjun’s. 

“You weren’t here yesterday,” he says. 

You frown. “No need to state the obvious.”

 He laughs and thumbs your cheek, and you swear the butterflies that flutter in your stomach are nearly painful. “I missed you,” he says. His eyes glitter with the words. “Did you go somewhere with him?” he asks. You don’t miss the way the word him curls in his mouth, much like how a person of the court would speak of something more unfavorable in a sickly-sweet way, to keep up a mask of indifference. 

“We just ran some errands.” You shrug it off. It isn’t the truth, but it also isn’t so far removed from it that you feel uncomfortable about lying to him. Lately, the guilt lays more heavily over you. With each dress and bejeweled trinket Yeonjun sends your way, the more you want to get this big lie out of the way. You should’ve done it before Taehyun set you out to do this; at least then, you could face him and not feel so deceitful. Is there a way to tell him that still conveys that you aren’t using him?

Yeonjun’s eyes flicker to your mouth, and back up to your eyes so quickly you could’ve missed it with a blink. “I see,” he muses. “I could take you under my care, you know. He wouldn’t have a say in any of it.”

Your expression sours a bit, and you know it’s not the reaction Yeonjun had expected if the look on his face says anything. 

“I don’t want to just become a playtoy,” you say. 

He looks taken aback. “You wouldn’t be a playtoy,” he says. “Ever.” He searches your eyes for something. “Why would you even think that?” 

Because you’re a prince, you think. Because I’m a human. Because that’s all we are to your kind. 

“Then why don’t we just stay as we are?” you say. There would be no real reason to even go through with such a thing—not when nothing would come of it. Princes of Faerie don’t marry humans. You’d become a mistress, and that’s being optimistic.

“Taehyun is not a good man,” Yeonjun says. His voice is stripped of its usual playful inflection. Why does everybody seem to keep telling you that? “I would feel better knowing that you’re safe.”

Safe? He thinks Taehyun would hurt you? “I’m okay, Yeonjun,” you say, if only to placate him. He doesn’t look convinced at all. “He treats me well,” you laugh. You meet his hand on your cheek with your own, curling it around his. While he doesn’t know the truth of everything, or why you stay with Taehyun in the first place, it stitches some old wounds inside you seeing that he cares for you.

His jaw tightens. “My offer will still stand if you ever decide otherwise.” 

He brushes his thumb at the plush of your bottom lip. Your mind goes fuzzy. When he presses it fully to your lips, you suck his thumb into your mouth, tasting the imprint of his fingerprint with rolls of your tongue around it. He looks as though he could moan standing there watching you, so you make a point of not losing contact with his eyes. You feel multiple burning stares on you, but you shove them out. 

He watches your tongue and his gaze comes alive with hunger, tugging your lower lip down before taking your chin into a hold and molding his lips to yours. His kiss conveys every thought plaguing his mind in its raw nature.

Their eyes are on you; so many eyes are. You know they look, but for the first time, you don’t falter under the weight. He tastes like broken shackles and weightless limbs. He tastes like salvation.

He roams his hands dangerously. When your mouths part, despite your shortage of oxygen, you say, “I’m sure you had many courtly ladies to entertain in my absence.” Your head buzzes. 

You’ve never seen Yeonjun so much as interact with another woman, but you still worry that he doesn’t only have eyes for you. 

His face turns sly again. “They’re honestly all quite dull.” 

Maybe, one day, you’ll join those ranks. You remind yourself that you won’t be here forever—that this moment in time is finite. Hopefully, you won’t be here long enough to see that happen. You’re not sure your self-worth could handle that hit.

“Are you really so superficial?” you ask. You stay playful in your tone, peeling from him to waltz toward an entree table. He follows. The way he trails you like a puppy on a leash does a bit to bloat your ego, despite your worries. “What’s so special about me?” It’s cheap, you know, but you crave his praise. You’ve found yourself thriving off of Yeonjun’s sweet words like oxygen. The question had been plaguing your mind since he had first spoken to you, anyway.

He looks as if he can’t articulate what he’s thinking. Or, maybe, he’s just concocting some words that’ll sound nice to your ears. “This life has become tiring. It drains you, and I am surrounded by it. Endlessly.” He pops a treat off a platter into his mouth. “You’re like a breath of spring air to my lungs.” 

You’re his distraction. He saw a human and decided it would be the biggest spectacle he could find to distract from his princely woes. You draw back. What do the faeries in this court think of you? Do they snicker when you turn your back? Do they laugh to see you think that you’re more than just entertainment to him? Does he join them? 

“What’s wrong?” Yeonjun asks, seeing the way you retract into yourself. “What is it?” 

You have to keep this act up; the well-being of your mission relies on it. You should’ve never gotten your feelings so entangled. 

“Because I’m human?”

A frown etches into his porcelain face. “No. Maybe at first, but…”—he releases a measured breath—“No.” Selfishly, you’re thankful that his kind can’t lie. 

You and Yeonjun find the dancefloor, more packed with cavorting faeries each day, and you accept the distraction from your dreary thoughts. The wild nature of it strips you of such things, leaving you bare to just your happier feelings. It leaves you just as breathless as the first time had. You kick and whirl and flail your limbs freely. 

When Yeonjun inevitably tugs you from your trance and out of the throng of folk, you’re dazed. Exhausted. Your hands itch to be all over him. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you, smoothing over the wild tousle that your hair had become. You focus on steadying your erratic breaths. “You’re a wild one,” he says, a pleased grin on his lips. The flush on his cheeks mirrors your own, despite his teasing. 

You lean into him to support your legs of jelly. You must’ve danced for hours. 

Yeonjun looks down at you, and his features are soft. “You wanna rest?” You nod. He laughs and then takes your hands into his. He guides you away from the soiree, out from the canopy of trees, but not toward Taehyun’s estate. You don’t question where he leads you, even as cold air makes you realize how bare this dress leaves your arms, even as the unfamiliar path catches at the hem of your dress. He notices how you don’t care to lift it from the ground, snorting, before lifting you into his arms.

“Woah!” you protest, feet off the ground in seconds. “I can walk.”

“Ah, but, only a fool would let a pretty lady like you soil her dress in the dirt.” 

You scowl at him, but it doesn’t change the way your belly swoops. He treats you so delicately. 

He carries you until you arrive at a mini palace that is no doubt royal—it towers over any surrounding trees. And, you had thought you had seen luxury. This is luxury. This is a life spent fed off of only crystal spoons. You admire the lush interior as he carries you into the palace. 

“This is where you stay?” you say. 

He hums, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “For one half of the year, this is my home.”

You notice how utterly empty it is. You had expected advisors and permanent guards and bustling servants. “It must get lonely here.” 

“I prefer it here,” he says. You can sympathize with that. You had spent the entirety of your life in the land of summer, but you had found more warmth than ever here in the north. This place was supposed to be a death sentence for humans, and though you had briefly met the danger that the north could present yesterday, you almost dread leaving. Maybe you just need more time, and then you’ll be so overtaken by fear that it’ll make it easy.

Yeonjun carries you through a door, and into what you assume is his room. A bed so large it would swallow up a third of the room you’re staying at in Taehyun’s estate sits in the middle of his room. He sets you down onto its velvety, rose-petal coverlet, before he climbs in next to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so he can admire you.

Your skin sighs as he rubs sweet circles over your bare shoulder with the pad of his thumb. The two of you settle into a long, comfortable silence.

“Do you believe that I don’t care for you?” he asks into the quiet. Do you hear hurt in his words? 

You meet his gaze and struggle to find words. Is it wrong to lie, just because you can? 

Your hesitance tells him enough. His fingers on your skin stop. “I am not so shallow, if you actually meant that.” Your words from earlier must’ve been gnawing at him. 

“It’s not that,” you say, avoiding contact with his eyes. It was exactly that. He doesn’t allow you to look away from him, sitting up to cut straight back into your vision. 

“What is it, then?” 

Your heart thrums. You want to tell him that you’re a liar, and that he should spit in your face and tell you to get out. You want to ask him if he’d still care for you the way he does if he knew your truth. You want to ask him if there’s any way that this can play out where the both of you end up together and unscathed. Your mind beckons you to ask him about every little doubt that has harassed your mind concerning him so that he can comfort you and assure you that they are just doubts. 

You ask none of those. 

“How can I show you?” he says. He climbs over you, knees straddling each side of your legs. “What would it take to prove to you that I mean it when I tell you that you make my heart ache? What will it take to make you become mine?” He lines a kiss up on your forehead, and then your cheek, and then onto the corner of your mouth. “This?” he asks, and then he hikes up the length of your dress, bunching all the fabric above your hips. He draws back so that he can plant a kiss on your clit, and he makes sure you’re looking at him while he does it. “Or is it this?” 

You breathe in the sensation, gasping his name like prayer and making room for him between your thighs. 

“Is that what it is, pretty? You need me to make love to you? I can do that,” he says. “I can do that, no problem.” 

He works at his clothes with one hand and brushes touches to your cunt with the other. Eventually, his needlessly extravagant Court shirt is off, and he’s holding your hip down as he prods the tip of a finger at your entrance. Your hole flutters in anticipation, his eyes catch it, and he breaks into a lousy grin. He finally begins pushing the finger into you, watching as you gasp at the way he curls into you. 

Pleasure whorls in your belly, rendering you increasingly dumber. “I need you,” you say. The muscles in his arm strain as he fingers you, and his black hair falls into his face with the movements. Your heart clenches.

“Slow down, baby. I need to do this, you’re not ready for me yet,” he says, pressing a soft kiss into your temple. “I want to make you feel good.” He slides another finger in, and you suppose he’s right, because it stretches you. He pumps and curls the both of them, and you dig your nails into his forearm as it all starts building in your belly. 

Yeonjun tugs his lip into his mouth, biting it, as he watches you grow restless under his fingers. Your peak feels so close, but his pace is so leisurely that you’re worried you’ll never reach it, as if caught in a limbo of torturous delight. “Faster,” you cry. “Faster, please.” It amuses him, and he abandons his casual pace for sloppy curls that have you whimpering into the air of his bedroom.

 “Yes, yes, yes!” A crescendo looms over you, until it crashes and your back is arching off the bed and you’re making embarrassing sounds. You dig crescents into Yeonjun’s arm when he continues to finger you. Your insides protest his stimulation, tugging and clenching tight in a way that borders tastefully on discomfort. 

“Fuck,” you hear Yeonjun say through the haze. “Just like that. Doesn’t it feel good?” he purrs. His fingers plow you through this peak, hurling you toward another one brutally. “I know it does; you’re clenching around my fingers so hard.”

Your hand covers your face. His words are lewd, and he says them like it’s nothing. It makes your insides burn. You can tell that the orgasm he beckons you into with each deliberate thrust is going to be explosive, frantically squeezing your thighs around his arm to staunch the intensity of his movements. Wet sounds punctuate each curl of his fingers. You can hardly believe that those sounds are coming from you.

“You want another one?” he says. You only answer him with pathetic whimpers. “Keep making those pretty noises for me.” 

You do, and he rewards you with his thumb on your clit. It drives you utterly wild. The blend of his fingers inside you and each bump against your nerves is exactly what you need to explode, and so you do, bucking. You’re worried he’s going to try and have you cum again when his fingers don’t stop, but he brings you down gently with small swirls. 

You catch your breath while Yeonjun adjusts you on the bed, tugging you down by your hips and sliding one of his thinner pillows under the bottom of your spine in a way that lifts your bottom half into the air. You laugh through ragged breaths; it feels a tad ridiculous.

“What’s that for?” 

He massages your inner thigh, soft humor twinkling in his eyes, but also so much more. “You’ll see,” he says. He hovers over you, bracing his weight into one arm at the side of your head so he can look right into your face. His free arm lines the tip of him up with you. Before making any moves to slide into you, he kisses you and takes your bottom lip with him as he pulls back. It exhilarates you; everything he’s ever done to you is exhilarating. You’re swept into a ripwave of emotion. Do you deserve all this? Is this life yours?

His hand rests on your hip, brushing over your hipbone with great gentleness, as he pushes into you. It’s slow and full of peppered kisses all over your face and neck, and then he’s in you to the hilt, and then he’s pulling back out of you so that you’re just so empty, but of course, with just a thrust he’s filling you back up. He falls into a swift pace, but each time he ruts up into you, it’s calculated and well-placed. Maybe it’s the pillow, or perhaps it’s just expertise, but he’s plunging into a sickeningly soft spot inside of you that makes your legs that are locked around his waist shake each time. Your eyes flutter close, but your mouth drops open in a soundless moan. 

“No, open your eyes. Look at me. Do you feel it? Do you feel my love for you?” he says, voice raw. “Is this what you needed?” 

Yes, this is exactly what you need. You feel so far removed from yourself that you can’t even feel your hurt or worries. You nod your head frantically. 

“Please, open your eyes,” he repeats, pleading in his tone. His face is right in front of yours when you do. His eyes flicker between both of yours. The intimacy of it is as consuming as the flames licking your insides, winding you up so tight that you might explode into a ball of blazing fire. The rolls of his hips turn into short, needy ruts. His mouth drops open, but he won’t close his eyes. He wants to watch you. 

“Yeonjun—” you breathe. Your muscles are tense all over, especially in your core, where he winds you tighter. The impending orgasm whispers into your ear that it will swallow you whole in its wake, and you believe it; you can’t breathe. 

“I know,” he says. When you squeak, face screwing up, Yeonjun reads you like letters on paper. “I know, it feels so good.” He’s just as much of a mess as you, panting while his free hand grabs at each of your curves to ground himself. You hold back your climax; it’s so hot in your belly that you fear how it’s going to wreck you. The hair on your skin prickles and rises. 

He feels how tightly you clamp down on him. “C’mon, pretty.”

Your nails rake paths down his biceps. “I can’t” you gasp. “Can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” 

Warm tears pool in the corners of your eyes and you shake your head. You do everything you can to urge it back; wriggling under him to escape his thrusts, pushing at his chest, biting into your poor lip until you fear it’ll bleed. Pressure builds all over you, your eyes burn and your muscles burn, like a thousand pounds of ecstasy pressing on each square inch of you and begging to be released.

“Stop running from it,” he says, pushing your hips into the mattress, pinning them so that he can deliver pointed thrusts up into that place that is so sensitive. It works wonders. “Let go, baby. Let it happen; I promise you it’ll feel so good.” 

You crumble, crying out into the air and clenching wildly around Yeonjun. 

“Yes, fuck!” he growls. He’s chasing his own peak now, leaving you no time to breathe through your own. 

You chant his name.

 “Squeezing me so good—you’re driving me up the fucking walls, pretty.” 

The sounds he rips from you are errant the more he pistons into you, and your hair sticks to your neck. For the third time, you cum, circling him in your arms and keeping him close while you try your best to ride this one out.

With the encouragement of you sporadically tightening around him, he stills over you, abdomen tensing up, before cumming into you, producing strangled sighs. He collapses down to his elbows and drops his head into your neck, delivering shallow rolls as he rides it out. Breaths puff onto your skin as he peppers warm kisses over every inch of your exposed skin. He stays like this, intertwined with you, for a while, lazily delivering thrusts until you’re both able to breathe fully again. 

When he pulls out of you, you feel him dripping from you. You should’ve told him to pull out; you must have no fears. It’s hard to worry too much about that, though, with the way he’s looking at your cunt as if the sight of his seed oozing from you was like nothing he’d ever seen before. He takes your ankle into his hand from where it hovered in the air, feathering a kiss there.

“Do you see now?” he asks, bringing his eyes up to yours. 

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.” 

END PART 2

a/n: there she is! I wanna see who y'all are more attached to this far.

tags: @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits

[misguidedasgardian]

Storm's End (End I)

HOTD MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Strong!Reader

Summary: your mother sends you to Storm’s End to rally Lord Borros Baratheon for your side, but your uncle arrived there before you

Warnings: Cursing, use of the word bastard, angst, heavy, canon level incest, mentions of bedding, and more, dark fic, Aemond is unhinged, rape, non-con, minors engaging in sexual activities, talks about abortion, violence, and other very dark things. 

+18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 4.1 k

Notes: Here it is! one of the two possible endings! hehe THIS IS THE HAPPY ONE the dark OG one is coming in the next days...

Today was the summit

Aemond thought bitterly, as he woke up and you were not there by his side, he looked towards the window and there you were, sitting there, looking at the ocean through the bars he had installed. 

You tended to do that a lot

You barely spoke, you barely moved, you barely eat

And it was not going to improve, no matter how… soft… he had became with you

“Good morning”, he said raising from his bed and walking to you, your eyes looked like the ones of someone who was no longer there, no longer living 

You didn’t answer 

“Today will be the negotiation for your release”, he said, and that is when, for a second, he saw relief

That settles it then

“I’ll send a maester in, to check you”

If you were with child

You said nothing, you waited until the old man returned

“My lady, if you will”, he asked, signaling to the bed

What you didn’t know, is that regardless of what he found, by order of the Dowager Queen… he was supposed to say only one thing

“She is not with child your grace”, he said to the Prince

The sadness in Aemond’s eyes was priceless to watch, but not the anger that came after

To no surprise, he fucked you roughly

One last time

The summoning of the two fighting monarchs and the all the great lords of the seven Kingdoms took two full moons 

Harrenhall was the chosen place for the meeting, in open air, no hiding, no tricks, no nothing

Finally they met, face to face, Rhaenyra and Aegon

“Give me back my daughter”, demanded Rhaenyra, it was the first thing she said, Aemond stood there by his brother unmoving, only a smirk on his face as he saw Luke almost hiding behind Daemon

“How ungrateful sister”, muttered Aegon, amused, “my brother saved your daughter from the wild waters of Shipwreck bay”, Borros had the audacity to laugh at that

“And we saved your cunt of a grandfather from messing with the triarchy, you should thank us, they are not to be trusted”, said Daemon, Aegon giggled childishly

“Very well uncle, so let’s solve this, we have something you want, and you have something that… well, is in our best interest to recuperate”, alicent twisted and turned in her place

Rhaenyra frowned

She wanted her daughter back more than they wanted Otto

All the Lords, the most important men and women of the realm where there 

Lannister, Tyrell, HIghtower, Tully, Arryn, Stark, Baratheon.

“We could plunge this Kingdom into war, or we can solve this as adults”, said Rhaenyra

“I agree”, said Aegon, “I’m the male heir, the crown is mine, as simple as that”

“My father, the late King proclaimed me heir, and all these Lord swore allegiance to me”, Alicent, with a deep scowl, shook her head

“To my side, all the lords that will follow my father's King Viserys wish, and proclaim me Queen”, Rhaenyra demanded, Aegon laughed, but stopped as soon as Tyrell, Tully, Arryn, and Stark walked to her side 

“The Reach will side with King Aegon”, proclaimed Lord HIghtower

“I’m sorry my Lord Hightower, but you do not rule the Reach”, Lady Tyrell proclaimed, “I do, in the name of my son”, she said firmly, “And we will side with the rightful heir, Queen Rhaenyra”

“Dorne will not dance with dragons”, said another, but still, Rhaenyra had 4 of the Seven Kingdoms, and the majority of the Crownlands 

“Before we start the negotiations, I want to see my daughter”, she demanded, “and I’ll let you see your father, Alicent”, she spoke, looking directly at her childhood friend 

“We will exchange hostages at the end of this summit”, said Aegon. Rhaenyra looked to her side, where Cregan Stark looked at them angrily

She had offered her daughter’s hand in marriage to the wolf, and he had said yes, he didn’t deter when she told him that she had been taken hostage… she knew Jace had spoken to him, but he still didn’t deter from his determination

Rhanyra kept stealing glances at his half brother Aemond, he wore a smirk on his lips and changes the weight on his feet, his hands grasped behind his back, standing at the right side of Aegon

This was going to be long… 

It was three days of negotiations

Three full days until they could reach the next conclusion

Aegon was going to rule from the capital those Kingdoms that wanted to serve him, even though that led to confusion amongst the Reach, and the Crownlands, who were divided 

The hostages were going to be exchanged

Much to Aemond’s disagreement 

But he said nothing

He himself brought you forwards

He had selected for you to wear a low cut green dress, to humiliate you, to show the most important lords and ladies of the realm the marks he had left on you, hands around your neck, bites in your collarbones, bruises. Rhaenyra whimpered when she saw you, hiding her horrified expression with a hand in her mouth

“Don’t you have a proposition to make to our sister, Aemond?”, asked Aegon mockingly, “to marry our lovely niece?”

The brothers had discussed surrendering the life of his grandfather, in exchange of you marrying Aemond, but he had decided against it

No matter how much he desired you, to have you by his side, he could not accept to go back on his word and marry you

“A bastard is not worthy of marrying a Prince”, he said out loud, shaking you still in his grasp until he made you whine in protest, “And I will not marry spoiled goods”, he continued with a sick smile.

His words stang, and you felt ashamed and embarrassed, your mother was there, right in front of you, and yet, you didn’t even dare to raise your head to look at her, you had been weak and you let her down, you let Aemond defile you, you put her in jeopardy.

Aemond at the same time, looked around and he did not see looks of approval or sarcasm, he saw looks of disgust… Directed at him

Directly at him

Not at you

At him

He was just like his brother

Both Green brothers, rapists, defiling women who did nothing wrong… raping them. He even looked at the eyes of their allies, the Lannsiter and Baratheon and not even them were looking back at him

He release you then, you stumbled forwards and your mother, not caring what other might think, she rushed to enemy lines to catch you in her loving arms, she hugged you tightly against her chest

“I’m here!”, she cried into your ear as she kissed your hair, “my sweet sweet girl, I’m here”, then you hugged her back

“Mama”, you whispered, not believing that she was real, that you were safe now, her characteristic smell, her voice, her hair, the shape of her arms and chest… it was her, you were safe

“My girl”, she repeated, “you are safe now, I got you”, she draw you back to her side, where Daemon and Luke received you with relieved faces, and tight hugs

They in turn, released Otto

Alicent was horrified when she saw the emaciated look on his face, his hair and gotten white, and he couldn’t even mutter a word

The brothers didn’t care enough to do or say something

They had taken your maidenhead

And Rhaenyra took his tongue

A fair exchange they believed

You didn't care for anyone but your mother, father and siblings, who doted on you all the journey back to Dragonstone, all of them, except from Jace

You didn’t know why, but he could barely look at you, and after he expressed his relief that you were alright and safe, he chose to stay far from your sight

It pained you, but you didn't push it 

You were home

You actually cried when you saw the castle in the horizon

And you did what you could best to not think of Aemond

He had fucked you that last time and then he took you to the summit himself on his dragon, he never spoke a word to you again.

And the maester had said you were not with child, so, why did you felt so terrible? your breasts were tender and you wanted to throw up

At first you thought it was because of how nervous you were

But when you were safe, on firm land, in Dragonstone… And the nausea didn’t leave you

You didn’t tell your mother, yet, she called a maester into your rooms, to check on you either way…

Turns out… the maester from King’s Landing was wrong… you were indeed with child

You said nothing, you didn't spoke much either way, but Rhaenyra sat by your side on the bed and hold you, caressed your hair, and whispered words of encouragement

“Everything is going to be alright my sweet girl, don't you worry”, she assured you, as she rose from the bed to talk to Maester Munkun

“She is too far along your grace, almost three moons, any attempts against the child in the princess’ belly could have dire consequences on her”, you heard him say

“Are you sure?”, you asked softly, the Maester, who should be offended, only smiled softly at you

“I never miss pregnancies your grace”, he said softly

Why didn’t the Maester of King’s Landing miss it? Perhaps he did on purpose 

For Aemond to let you go…

The maester left after giving your mother some instructions, and she looked at you, trying to analyze the calm expression on your face

“Darling… are you alright?”, she asked softly, you only nodded

“The maester in King's Landing lied mom”, you said softly, “he said that i’m not with child, I gather he said so, so Aemond would let me go”, you explained

“Much likely, yes”, she said softly, she returned to your side, sitting by your side on the bed, “my darling, I will find someone you will marry, it is imperative..”

“I don’t want to get married”, you whined looking back at her, she tried to smile, but the concern in her face…

“My love, your child… if you don’t marry…”, you placed your hand on your lower belly

“But you are Queen”, you said softly, “you can have him or her legitimized”, she smiled softly

“Yes I can, and I will do that, if that is what you desire”, she said, her uneasy gaze on you at all times

“I do not think I can handle a man… touching me… yet”, you explained, and she nodded quickly, she grabbed your hands, you did not reject her touch, you could never, if anything, made you feel better, it grounded you, soothed you

She was concerned for you, you could tell, but you still didn’t know what to say

“I need to know you are alright with this”, she said softly

“I am”, you said softly

You were just glad to be home, you were just glad that since you were with your family, you didn’t have nightmares, and if you didn’t look into the mirror… you were fine because the bruises and pain Aemond has caused you was diminishing by day…

And the child, well, you supposed you were accustomed to the idea since the first time he had you, it is what happened, and even though a week ago that maester had said you were not with child, in the bottom of your heart, you didn’t believe him anyways. 

And your calmness seemed to unnerve your mother

“I’ll leave, if you need anything”

“I’m fine mama”, you said, smiling encouragingly, she barely nodded, and left you

She left you, it was a beautiful day when you looked out the window and you decided you were going to read by it, a book of legends about love and knights….

But Luke entered your room after a few hours

“Aemond showed me the letter you send him”, you said smiling widely, you rose from your seat and embraced your brother, he hugged you back, “You tried to recuperate me, my brave little brother”

“It wasn’t enough”, he lamented

“Yes it was”, you said gently, you released him, and he smiled at you

“I thought you’d like some company”

Since you arrived a couple of days ago, you didn't want to leave your rooms

“You thought right”, you smiled, and you both both sat at the wooden table in the corner of the room

“I heard mother say… are you with child?”, he asked softly, you nodded

“Yes I am” 

“Does he… know?”, you shook your head

“And we have to keep it that way Luke”, you said back, “He can’t know”

“I think is safe to say, you are safe here, the greens have no friends amongst us”, he said, and you nodded

“How is Jace?”, you asked, he frowned

“He is… sorry he hasn't been here to see you”

“No he is not”, you said

“He is angry”, he assumed, “very angry, and he doesn't know who to be angry with… “

“He has always been a bit hot headed”, you said gently, “the blood of the dragon and all”. You missed your brother

“He is angry at the situation, not at you”, he said softly

Lucerys left you when the sun hid in the horizon…. and at night, Jace has decided to pay you a visit, as you thought, he was angry… very angry

“Is it true?”, he asked, you only looked at him from your bed, “you are pregnant with his bastard?” he asked then, you whimpered, the manner he spoke to you… so angrily, reminded you of Aemond

“Yes Jace…”, you said softly and he growled, frustrated

“How could you…?”

“There is nothing we can do”, you explained softly

“Why are you so calm? about everything? he raped you! tortured you”

“Yes he did jace”

“He ruined your life”

“I know”, you said softly

“Do you know what we had to do to prevent Daemon from burning King’s Landing to the ground? he took all his anger and rage on…”

“Otto Hightower I gather”, you muttered

“WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING CALM?!”, Lucerys was right he was not angry at you, he was angry at the situation, he was as you should be

“There is nothing we can do, its done, Jace, I’m here with you, I’m safe again, its over”, you said, and he finally calmed himself down, looking at you wide eyed

And then… he exploded

He cried, your older brother, eighteen year old, cried right then and there in front of you, wept, as he fell by your side and hugged you tightly

“I was so scared”, he whined, and you could only caress his dark hairs and shush him, “that he was going to… kill you…”

“We cannot hold this hate in our hearts Jace, look at what it did to him”, you whispered, “we have to forgive and forget or else, it going to eat us alive”

. . .

Moons passed

Five more, to be exact, and your belly had grown, as much as your excitement.

At first, you were scared, very scared, frightened, but everything changed once you started feeling him or her, moving inside of you, kicking you softly, you started feeling curious about your child, who was going to look like

You really hoped it was a girl, so she could keep you company, but at the same time, you stated feeling scared if she was a girl

The world hurt little girls

It was better if he was a boy, but if he was… he was going to be teased for being a bastard, mistreated even… 

You were conflicted

What you did know though, is that it was going to be so so loved, his uncles and aunties, Rhaena and Baela, your mother, Viserys and Aegon, Dameon, were going to love him or her, so so much

You mother was going to declare her or him legitimate, she was going to be a Targaryen, that is all that mattered

Luke wouldn’t part your side and consequently, neither did Rhaena, they were your rock

Your mother as well, but she couldn’t help but look sadly at you

And Daemon? as Jace, he found trouble having his own peace, at some point, he even blamed himself for not burning the Greens sooner.

But you had made your piece

When you were finishing your 8th moon, Cregan Stark came to Dragonstone

You were greatly surprised when on his second day, he asked for an audience with you

You sat in the great hall nervously, you were to have chaperones, Luke and Jace, but still, you got so nervous when the imposing man entered the hall at Jace’s side

“There she is”, said Jace with a nervous smile

“Here I am”, you said, you didn’t dare to stand, the table hiding your belly

“Your grace, your beauty is greater than the songs they sing”, he said, he was handsome, young, tall and broad, pitch black hair, and piercing gray eyes, his fur cape only help to enlarge his figure

“You are too kind”, you said softly

He looked at your brother strangely, they got the hint, and they walked away, directing their attention elsewhere

“I wanted an audience with you because, when prince Jacaerys flied North to seek my alliance, in said alliance, there was a promise for your hand”

“Yes my Lord, I’m aware”, you muttered, he was there at the summit, he had witnessed and saw what Aemond did to you, everyone knew and was witness to it

“I expressed your mother the Queen of my desires to continued said alliance”, he said firmly, but with a gentle smile

He wanted to marry you

“My lord…”, you started

“I know many things have happened in between, but my desire hasn't diminished… I…” you stood up from the table, revealing your pregnant belly to him, he got quiet all of a sudden

“I’m very sorry my lord, it would have been the joy of my life, but.. as you can see, I am not the maiden my brother promised almost a year ago I… I’m afraid I’m spoiled now… I’m expecting a child…”, Jace turn to look at you, white as paper

Cregan was not surprised, he looked like he expected it

“That is fine, your grace, because… I also have a child, my heir, a sweet boy of four name days, Rickon… if I may be so forward, he needs a sweet, good mother figure, and your child will need, in turn…”, you smiled

“I’m spoiled goods My Lord”, you said smiling sadly, he went forwards, his closeness didn’t scared you, he took the liberty of grabbing your hand

“You are not goods, my lovely, you are a princess, and I’m going to love and care for your child, as I’m sure you are going to love and care for mine”, he said, with such conviction in his eyes, “someday we might even… have some children of our own, only if you so please to”

“What are the Lords and Ladies of the North going to say?”, you asked then

“I’ve been away from my home long enough so nobody will ask many questions”, he said gently

“May I have a couple of days to think about it?”, you asked, smiling at him, he smiled 

“Of course”, he leaned in and kissed your hand 

it was a tough decision, not like you had too much to think about

You were lucky, terribly Lucky that the third most powerful man in the Kingdoms wanted to marry YOU, pregnant and all, but on the other side, the thought of leaving your home broke your heart

You wanted to be home, with your mother and father, and siblings

You knew you could be happy here 

Aemond had married a Baratheon, not that you cared, he had been exiled to the Storm’s End, you knew because Daemon had mocked in at dinner

Thanks to Mysaria you had ears and eyes all over the Kingdoms

You wondered if they had to

If they knew you were expecting his child

You wondered what would happen when he finds out because, he said clearly he was not going to let you go

But you didn't care, you were safe

Whatever you chose, you were going to be fine

Cregan soothed you, and he had express that you had until the baby was born to make a decision

So you spend the last moon of your pregnancy in company of your family 

. . .

“Push, my sweet girl”, cried your mother, kissing your sweaty temple

“AARRRGGHHHHH!”, a scream ripped your throat as you did, with all strength, pushed as hard as you could

“I can see the head sweet princess, just one more”, said the Midwife sweetly

“AHHH FUCK CUNT BITCH!”, you cursed all the words in the books, you swore you could hear Daemon laugh at the other side of the door

And then, a feeling of relief, the midwives cheered and then

The cry of your child

“It’s a boy, your grace! kicking like a horse, strong like one too”, your mother laughed, relieved, and so did you 

It was short minutes and then they placed your clean baby in your awaiting arms

He was so small, tiny, with silver hair and red face, he was crying loudly, a good set of lungs in him

“My son”, you said triumphantly 

It was some hours later, after they cleaned you and ready you, that your mother allowed people to come and see you, Lucerys was the first one inside 

You passed your sleeping son into his arms

“He is so small!”, he said with a wide smile, “what’s his name?”, he asked

“Aerion”, you answered with a wide smile

your entire family entered the room to gaze at your son, over Luke’s shoulder

“He’s got my nose”, said Daemon, all of them laughed, including you 

“But he has my eyes”, said Rhaenyra

“the blood of the Dragon runs thick on him”

Even Corlys and Rhaenys entered the room to see your baby

“He's just gorgeous!”, cooed Rhaenys, taking him in her arms and cradling him against her chest, “you are going to be a real dragon rider, aren’t you? you are going to claim Vermithor! or Silverwing” 

“I want him to take the Velaryon name”, said Corlys, “like you, my sweet girl”, you smiled, your eyes filled with tears

“Really?”, you cried

“Of course”

Despite everything, and even though you had been through hell… You know you were going to be alright 

You had your family, you had your son who you needed to be strong for 

You were safe

You were fine

It took you five moons to realize it, to sleep through the night, not to wake, alarmed, thinking he was going to enter your rooms to choke you and rape you

That you were fine 

That you were never going not see him again

That he was never going to see YOUR son

With Cregan…

You accepted to Marry Cregan, you married in a Valyrian ceremony after you recuperated form giving birth, and when you reached Winterfell,  you married there again, in the Godswood

He gave you space, and won your trust a little step at a time, no even a year in, an you shared your chambers and your bed with him, he had been so incredible patient, you fell in love with him, as with his son, who accepted you as his mother

Cregan took your son in, a dragon hatched in his crib, to everyone’s surprise 

After two years, to gave birth to a little girl, with dark hair and lilac eyes, and a year later a set of twin boys

You never saw Aemond again, he never saw your son, you didn't even knew if he knew about his existence

But he knew, he knew and he spend the rest of his life tortured

He married Floris Baratheon but it was an unhappy marriage, he didn’t manage to give her children, and she hated him for it

He of course blamed her 

He never forgot about you 

In Dragonstone...

You decided to stay home with your child, to be raised with his baby dragon in Dragonstone, he grew up loved and cared for, by all your family

Jace married Baela, Luke married Rhaena, and you were there to see it

Eventually, when Aerion was three, you fell in love with the second son of House Celtigar, who had come to court to serve your mother, you married, and lived happily in Dragonstone with him… 

Aemond never saw your child or you again, but he demanded Larys for information every day, for the rest of his life, he could only hear how your son was great with the sword, smart and cunning, a great dragon rider, a perfect prince, without him. 

THE END 

taglist!

@lightdragonrayne @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @twobluejeans @toodlesxcuddles @sassysaxsolo @thearchitectoflove @maidmerrymint @floralsightings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @glendarollitkatharinesanders @ruhjkie @starkjedi @baconturtle @aleemendoza2425-blog @ahristata @dlwlrmas-world @yentroucnagol @hiraethrhapsody @alwaysholymilkshake @marihoneywk @belladonna00 @strangersunghoon @anehkael @t0uch-starved-h0e @hkmultifandom @letmehavemyfictionalmen @belcalis9503 @daddydaemonswife @daemontargaryenwhore @bash1018 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ninastyless @strangersunghoon @bellstwd @yoshiplush 

[nerdykeppie]

Launching Tuesday - Historically Queer, our next enamel pin collection!

We Have Always Been Here.

Ten pins - two pairs, five single pins, and the La Maupin mega pin (she needed extra room for her headdress) - each with multiple unlockable colorways.

We launch Tuesday, 9/12, at 3PM Eastern, noon Pacific. Follow us on Kickstarter to be notified when we launch -- or just to help out! The visibility to Kickstarter from having followers on our campaign helps a lot. :D

Featured in this campaign:

Enheduanna, oldest named author. Incorporating trans themes into writing thousands of years old.

David & Jonathan, king & prince whose love surpassed the love of women.

Sappho, Lesbian poet. She should need no other introduction.

La Maupin, also known as Julie d'Aubigny. The original disaster bisexual. Opera singer, swordswoman. May have burned down a convent.

Publick Universal Friend, American religious figure. Going by gender-neutral pronouns since the year the Declaration of Independence was written.

Anne Lister & Ann Walker, the Gentleman Jack & her wife. Acknowledged as the first same-gender marriage in modern Britain.

Dr. James Barry, British surgeon. A transgender man, Dr. Barry performed the first C-section done by a European in Africa in which both mother & child survived. He is also credited with vastly improving conditions for wounded soldiers in the British military.

Nikola Tesla, Serbian-American genius. Listing Tesla's inventions would take a series of posts. Liked pigeons better than people.

If you don't see your favorite historical figure, don't fret! We've planned multiple sets of Historically Queer figures. We can't use them all up at once. :) Help ensure we can make future sets by helping us create this one!

Frequently Asked Questions under the cut.

Hey, what flag is that on Sappho?

That's the Sapphic flag, created by @tepkunset. NerdyKeppie's owner, Spider, is a butch lesbian who uses that flag for their art.

Hey - what about [historical figure]? How could you forget [historical figure]? This is erasure!

We didn't forget, we promise - this is the first of several installments of this project. After the absolute stress of the last Kickstarter when we had 300+ different SKUs by the end of the project, we decided to take a more focused approach to Historically Queer. We attempted to provide a good cross-section of identities, and will continue to expand in future projects. Spider has a huge folder on his computer full of planned pins and reference images.  

But historically...

Yes, we know that it isn't totally proper to use today's terms to discuss people who lived a long time ago. But also, how else do we talk about our community history in a way that's understood, and celebrate our shared queerness, other than to use the words and iconography which are understandable to us now? We celebrate our shared history with the words and understandings most accessible to all of us, and we hope that by providing not just the pins but a few elementary facts about these historical figures, we'll encourage people to read more about them in their original context.

[koimethehorizon]

Adventure Time and Fionna and Cake Theory: The Victimhood of Simon + How the Series Might End

Prerequisite Watching for this Theory:

Adventure Time: Temple of Mars, Betty, Come Along With Me, Broke His Crown, I Remember You, Holly Jolly Secrets Part II

Gonna start this loaded theory with a bit of a hot take. I’ve never liked how Simon and Betty’s stories concluded in Come Along With Me.

For Simon, I’ve always had trouble considering Simon and the Ice King as the same person. Holly Jolly Secrets and I Remember You, the pinnacle of depicting the dichotomy of the two characters is built on us seeing Simon as suffering irreversible memory loss and how his loved ones can grow to accept that. The context is most apt when viewed as a metaphor for dementia, Alzheimer’s, or simply old age.

The scenes in which Ice King reacts so superfluously to characters desperately wishing for his old self to return are striking because of the cruel finality of his condition. Alternatively, the ones in which his loved ones hang around with him despite his condition are sweet in their own right.

One of my favorite Ice King scenes is in Broke His Crown where Marceline invites her girlfriend to meet her surrogate father.

Bubblegum: What's this?

Ice King: It's a present, to bribe you for coming over!

Marceline: You don't have to bribe us silly, we're here because we WANT to hang out with you.

Ice King: No one has ever said that to me before.

*snatches present*

Ice King: You didn't say no takebacks.

There was a real poignancy to depicting an old man with memory-loss slowly having people come to accept him and realize that he’s still a swell guy to hang around. It may be depressing to see this good person who was once so unconditionally caring into a buffoon who could forget your name so easily and turn on you in the flip of a coin.

But even he deserved love from others. And in time, as a result of that love, he did improve.

Which is why, even in Fionna and Cake, I find myself still disturbed seeing Simon in his normal state and Ice King completely erased from Ooo. It kills me that Betty and in extension, the show itself could not accept Ice King as he was and felt that his best course was to undo it all.

All of his experiences for 1000+ years all of a sudden no longer matter, and the acceptance of his peers no longer mattered as well. He's just back to who he used to be in a world where everything he's known is gone.

Happily ever after

Even worse, however, is remembering the wish that allowed Simon to be cured. The person who sacrificed her individuality to get that good person back, because she couldn’t accept reality as it was.

And I’m going to put a second hot take. A spicy one. Simon needs to take the fault in Betty's fate and Fionna and Cake (the show not the characters) seems aware of this.

Throughout Adventure Time, Simon Petrikov was never developed as a character. As far as the audience and the characters within Adventure Time knew, the only traits about Simon that mattered were: that he was intelligent, he was a kind man, and he loved Betty.

This wouldn’t really be a compelling character on its own, but when juxtaposed with the Ice King it’s a tragedy that he lost these traits. The compelling part of Simon was his victimhood to the ice crown and not really him as a person.

It’s why Obsidian’s version of Simon feels somewhat empty, he’s back to his intelligent, kind self but there’s no real hints to how he’s mentally adjusting other than that brief glimpse in Ice King’s robes again.

And he looks really weird in this special too. Color me surprised when Simon Petrikov reads out the problems I've had for years about his ending while also making Simon into his own person. In many ways it just completely redos what we see of him in Obsidian.

He's still a kind man but even he can't handle being so maladjusted to a world so beyond his time. He's still intelligent but his passions aren't reciprocated, and that seems to have always been the case even in the past. Rather than a guy who doesn't take shit from guys like Marceline's ex or a first responder to his daughter's problems, he's a normal guy unable to handle the threats of Ooo's world even after 12 years of living in it. Rather than singing to large communities in bliss, he's a lonely alcoholic who can't even relate to his fellow humans anymore. He loves his adopted daughter but there are even some days he can't muster the courage to be honest with her. And most importantly, he doesn't seem to know how to live beyond his curse or his loneliness.

His mutual obsession with Betty is the only character trait of his that's ever had some distinct flaw and with this new show, the writers must have finally found a way to tackle the subject further. Betty is ultimately a greater victim than Simon. She ends up in a far worse fate than Simon has ever been in. Perhaps more disturbingly, she willingly chose to strip herself of her individuality.

Fionna and Cake brings a contradiction to light about Simon and Betty’s seemingly perfect relationship. Simon and Betty's love is real and they do make each other happy. But there does exist a co-dependency that has worsened throughout the series as a result of their insecurity of letting a bad memory conclude their relationship. Betty's patterns are pretty clear throughout her tenure as Magic Woman but not too much with Simon. Not until now.

In Jerry, Simon stops Betty from pursuing her dreams because he didn’t want her goodbye to be his last memory with her.

In Betty, Simon rewrites history and inadvertently summons her to Ooo because he didn’t want Betty’s look of contempt to be his last memory of her.

And through all of Fionna and Cake, Simon has turned into a suicidal man willing to resummon GOLBetty regardless of the reasons she can’t see him again. All because he didn’t want her sacrifice to be his last memory of her. Despite the fact that Betty’s final wish was to keep Simon safe.

There's also this uneven power dynamic between the two. Simon was far more accomplished as a professor with PhDs even if no one took him seriously. Betty was just a student offering some help, knowing she wouldn't take any credit for helping.

I’ll preface that Betty is a consenting adult in the relationship and made many self-determined rash choices that Simon would never approve of with full context. We’ve enough scenes to show that Simon actively refuses Betty’s help if it means endangering her.

However, Simon’s perception of Betty and his own inadequacy did influence her personality for the worse. Fionna questions Simon on two occasions about how strange it was for “someone she just met to drop everything to go with you”. Even within the flashbacks Betty verbally describes her internal conflict between her individuality vs. her infatuation with Simon and the guy never picks up on it.

Whether he’s aware of it or not, Simon always ends up becoming the center of attention during Betty’s greatest life-changing events because he’s always suffering in some way. And sadly in-character, Betty always prioritizes him first because of how sorry she feels for him.

Simon: Just hold my hand to your face, this will be my… last sensation.

Betty: Don’t be a wimp, Simon!

I don’t want to be too hard on Simon, his suffering is cosmologically depressing. An undeniable tragedy that no one deserves to be alone on. It would be unfair to say he’s being dramatic about something most if not any human would ever go through. He’s not a leech for desiring help, especially from his significant other.

But I do think it’s important to point out that he does have a major flaw in not reflecting on the consequences of Betty’s choices.

Fionna: Damn, that’s romantic. So, you got on the bus with her?

Simon: Yup. Uh what? No. No. Why would I-

This is the reason this post exists. This is the show explicitly telling us that Simon has never really thought about what Betty lost because he thinks his love was greater than the passion Betty once had.

Let's go back to Betty once again for what is honestly the most justifiable takedown you could make of Simon's character prior to the miniseries.

As stated earlier, Simon opens a portal to ask for Betty's forgiveness with a few seconds on the clock. And in that time, he essentially just unloads a giant drama bomb, trauma dump of his suffering leading Betty to ask what she can even do without him. And if the plan went as it was, Simon would've just left her a hundred questions that she'd never have answered for the rest of her life.

Simon: Just know that I love you and I forgive you for leaving me. Author's Note: I dunno, isn't there something a bit off about how he worded this?

Now Simon didn't ask for Betty to jump into the portal, but he certainly was asking for it subconsciously. How else would he have expected a person who loves him dearly to act after this?

Taking any measures necessary and finding a way back together obviously. That's what he's doing too!

And reiterating again, this is the reason why Betty goes on her ego-suicidal quest. This is Simon's greatest mistake, his greatest moral failing as a person and he doesn't seem aware of this.

He’s not wrong that Betty lived happily with him. In spite of losing her dreams, Betty and Simon did love each other unconditionally. But he’s missing the bigger picture about how he could’ve been self-centered in deciding Betty’s fate for himself.

And maybe to stretch somewhat, I think even the quest to become Ice King again is somewhat motivated by his inability to live as anything more than a victim. Some of it is because the citizens of Ooo were being a bit inconsiderate about how much they liked Ice King yes, but Simon should be perfectly aware that Marceline, Betty, and now Fionna would be extremely concerned about him for doing this. Yet, he doesn’t really consider their feelings too much on the matter. He’s too used to the suffering.

Please have one scene with Marceline, I'd be sad if we don't get to see at least one.

This leads me to how I believe Fionna and Cake may rewrite Simon’s ending.

The key is in the episode Temple of Mars.

Upon rewatching the episode, I’m convinced that the Adventure Time cast had a greater plan with the Betty and Simon arc that just never came to be due to production constraints. A lot of Betty’s history and the deconstruction of her relationship with Simon in Jerry are surprisingly details that have already been told.

I thought it was an animation error that Betty’s glasses were different in Jerry but it turns out the continuity director is just that good.

The trip in six months, Simon stopping her, and the realization that Simon superseded her identity. Seeking independence from Simon is the lesson that Normal Man was trying failed to teach her.

Betty: I’ve spent so much time dedicated on Simon that I’m not even sure if there’s any “me” left anymore.

But the most telling detail is how Betty passes Normal Man’s test.

Finn: Even if you are a lost cause, she is not!

Betty: No, Finn’s right. You’ll thank me for this later past Betty.

In an alternate pocket reality, she changes her trip to the day before, preventing Simon from stopping her. And I think Simon will have to change fate once again to do the same.

If Simon comes to realize that he was the one who set Betty to her terrible fate, that all this time his rose-colored lens of their relationship had been detrimental then he could give her identity back. But it can’t be as simple as changing the moment Betty turns into GOLB or Magic Woman or even bringing her through the portal in Betty.

He needs to let Betty go on the bus. Alone.

It’s the only way for Betty to have her life back. If not for his Betty, maybe at least to save one in the multiverse doomed to the same fate.

They both need to cherish their time on the Enchiridion trip back when it wasn’t too late for Betty to go on the trip. Back when they were both equals and not tied to Simon’s needs.

Jerry is absolutely setting up something big with Simon and Betty’s relationship for next week and now that we’re going to the GOLB dimension, we’ll see how he remembers these moments again.

Personally, as someone who has been skeptical about Simon's peace for years, Fionna and Cake's second episode was like a sigh of relief. Simon hasn't found his ending yet, and my hope is that this epilogue will help me see the man happy without having to relive Betty's sacrifice for the rest of his life. Just like the rest of Adventure Time, it'll have to end with him cherishing the time he had with Betty regardless of the inevitability of losing that relationship.

PS. Isn’t quite strange that at one point in time, Simon sought after magic objects that ostracized him from the normal world and now, he lives in a house full of 1980s-1990s objects that ostracized him from the magical world? Maybe he was never really satisfied with where he was in the present.

PSS. I really wanted to write something on Fionna for the Ep 3-6 releases, and I still have the idea, but I couldn’t make it coherent due to how much my brain overthinks everything to the point of cognitive collapse. If there’s enough interest, I’ll go back to write it again.

[dulcewrites]

ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips nervously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, newly off the passing of her mother, seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now.

New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Even Rhaenyra over the years has grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the moods that come with Viserys Targaryen. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for the act of moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it would not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends.

Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She has a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

[mirai-e-jump]

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger Photo Book: ~King of Kings~

Gira Husty Profile: King of Shugoddam, the most powerful country where the guardian god resides. Learning of king Racules Husty's goal of "prioritizing the unity of Chikyu, even at the expense of the people," he rebels against the world by playing the role of an "evil king" in order to protect everyone. His partner is God Kuwagata, and he arms himself with the KuwagataOhger armor.

Yanma Gast Profile: King of N'kosopa, country of technology. Born in a slum, he rose to the position of king with just his computer. He's a skilled engineer, and all of the equipment for the Royal Sentai was developed by Yanma. He's an ambitious man with a desire to improve, with many people looking up to and calling him "President" due to his yankii spirit.

Hymeno Ran Profile: Queen of Ishabana, country of fine art and medicine. While beautiful in appearance, she has an extremely selfish personality, and values "beauty" above all else. On the other hand, she has no hesitation in saving someone's life, and has the face of a doctor who brilliantly saves lives. She maintains a "selfish style" in battle, not caring about her surroundings, and fights using the King's Weapon: Scythe Mode.

Rita Kaniska Profile: King of Gokkan, country of ice and snow, they're the Chief International Judge who believes that neutrality is justice. They're always reserved and cautious, and don't show emotion, so they're often seen as a stubborn person……but, they actually have a compassionate side……? At the climax of the battle, they face the enemy with a cool style of "remaining immovable," unaffected by anything.

Kaguragi Dybowski Profile: Lord of Toufu, an agricultural country. He's always smiling and has a gentle and friendly personality. However, the truth is he's willing to use dirty tricks to protect his country, and has exceptional negotiating techniques to get things done to work to his advantage. He's concerned about his younger sister Suzume, who married Shugoddam's Racules.

Jeramie Brasieri Profile: Born to a father who was the sixth hero that saved mankind 2,000 years ago and a mother who was a Bugnarak, he has passed down the history of Chikyu for a long time as the "storyteller." His right arm is that of a Bugnarak, and he has a special ability to create strong webs from inside his body. His existence stirs up both the kings and Bugnarak, using words and actions that are difficult to read.

Racules Husty Profile: As king of Shugoddam, he united the five kingdoms with his unparalleled and overwhelming charisma, but was defeated in trial by combat with his brother Gira, and was dethroned as king. While Gira and the others were away from Chikyu, he became the king of Shugoddam and ruled the country as Shugo Mask……

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger: Costume Guide The gorgeous costumes of the kings, which are reminiscent of the characteristics of each country. A guide to the current costumes and accessories worn by the characters since the beginning of the story.

Gira Husty (Top) Costume of Gira, who replaced Racules as king of Shugoddam. The cape remains the same, but the costume and boots underneath have changed!

(Middle) His recognizable oversized shirt and the bright red harness that highlight it. Red and black straps cross over the wide collar.

(Bottom) The brown boots were worn by Gira as he escaped during the beginning of the story. The necklace is designed with five pieces of red glass.

Yanma Gast (Top Right) Costume from the start of the new chapter two years later. The jacket has a design with a black belt hanging down. The cuffs have a zipper that can be opened and closed.

(Top Left) The wide pants are designed to be divided into upper and lower parts above the knee. The inner one has two lines on the front part. The color blue is used strikingly throughout.

(Middle) The cuff earring has ridges that grow alongside the ear, two chains, and N'kosopa's "King's Proof." The headphones have a cord connected to a switch.

(Bottom) Items that Yanma wears on his arms. The design of the shoes are silver with blue accents. They also have decorations that resemble headphones.

Kaguragi Dybowski (Top) A luxurious and gorgeous costume that just screams, "I'm the lord of Toufu!" The sleeves of the haori have a distinct pattern on both the front and back. The beehive like patterns are also a key point.

(Bottom) The footwear seen under his kimono are boots. Furthermore, the soles are shaped to be like geta.

Hymeno Ran (Top) From the new chapter, the shape of the sleeves and skirt have changed, and the large ribbon on the back is also one of its main features. The asymmetrical skirt produces cuteness and elegance. The tiara contains the "King's Proof."

(Middle Top) The previous costume was made up of a top, skirt, and corset. The skirt has volume, with the front being short and the back being long. The corset is laced up at the back.

(Middle Bottom) The sequin encrusted tights are the same design throughout the entire story. Also, the glittering shoes made entirely of gold are one of Hymeno's signature items.

(Bottom) Hymeno's Favorite Accessories: Hymeno has a large number of accessories, including earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, which among them she'll use at random. This is the commitment to beauty!

Rita Kaniska (Top Right) From the new chapter, Rita's clothes changed to a shorter length jacket. The metallic purple collar accentuates the black base color of the outfit.

(Top Left) The previous costume was a tailcoat type of long jacket. The black cloth is decorated with snowflake like patterns. The design of the purple collar and cuffs are the same as the costume for the new chapter.

(Bottom Left) The black gloves are one of the most distinctive features of Rita's costume. The bracelet decorated in the center has Gokkan's "King's Proof." There's a similar emblem on the cuff earring.

(Bottom Right) Rita is characterized by their all black outfit. Their knee length long boots are of course, also all black.

Jeramie Brasieri From the new chapter, an elegant cape has been added to Jeramie's costume. In the previous costume, his right arm had a longer sleeve. The top is asymmetrical with the left side being longer.

Handwritten Messages Check out the handwritten comments from the cast!

Sakai Taisei (Gira Husty)

"What do you respect about Gira, the character you play?" The fact that he tries to understand people's feelings!!

"If you were a king, what kind of country would you want to build?" A country where children can eat until they're full!!

"What do you think is the best part of Gira's costume?" The cape he got from his big brother!!

"Please give a message to Gira!" I want you to be happy!

"Please give a message to the king cast members!" I'm going to rule the world!!

"Finally, a message to the fans of King-Ohger!" You guys are the gears~ ^_^

Watanabe Aoto (Yanma Gast)

"What do you respect about Yanma, the character you play?" His sense of distance and respect for people.

"If you were a king, what kind of country would you want to build?" A country where the youth are the driving force.

"What do you think is the best part of Yanma's costume?" The sandals that I literally ran in for a whole year.

"Please give a message to Yanma!" I'm on top!!

"Please give a message to the king cast members!" Thank you for the past year!!

"Finally, a message to the fans of King-Ohger!" Thank you so much for your support. Now, you can also be a Royal Sentai.

Murakami Erica (Hymeno Ran)

"What do you respect about Hymeno, the character you play?" Her inner strength 💛

"If you were a king, what kind of country would you want to build?" A country without war.

"What do you think is the best part of Hymeno's costume?" The asymmetrical design!

"Please give a message to Hymeno!" I'm encouraged by your nobility!

"Please give a message to the king cast members!" Thank you all for making this past year so enjoyable. Really, thank you so much 💛

"Finally, a message to the fans of King-Ohger!" Filming for King-Ohger has finished, but we'll live on in everyone's hearts! Thank you so much for your support!!

Hirakawa Yuzuki (Rita Kaniska)

"What do you respect about Rita, the character you play?" The part where they never waver.

"If you were a king, what kind of country would you want to build?" A country where many different languages are spoken.

"What do you think is the best part of Rita's costume?" The chain attached to the jacket.

"Please give a message to Rita!" You've got humanity and are cute :)

"Please give a message to the king cast members!" We're family! Thank you so much for the past year!

"Finally, a message to the fans of King-Ohger!" Thank you so much for loving King-Ohger so much!

Kaku So (Kaguragi Dybowski)

"What do you respect about Kaguragi, the character you play?" That he'll dirty himself for the sake of others.

"If you were a king, what kind of country would you want to build?" Protein supplied.

"What do you think is the best part of Kaguragi's costume?" The emotions (design) on the sleeves.

"Please give a message to Kaguragi!" Be selfish every once in awhile.

"Please give a message to the king cast members!" Thank you all so much, we're family forever.

"Finally, a message to the fans of King-Ohger!" Thank you so much for your support. Let's meet again soon!!

Ikeda Masashi (Jeramie Brasieri)

"What do you respect about Jeramie, the character you play?" His vocabulary.

"If you were a king, what kind of country would you want to build?" Peaceful World.

"What do you think is the best part of Jeramie's costume?" It gives off the feeling of a prince.

"Please give a message to Jeramie!" Thanks ^_^

"Please give a message to the king cast members!" I was really happy with the six of us!

"Finally, a message to the fans of King-Ohger!" Thank you for all the love and good dreams.