#drifting dragons fanfics

[drifting-dragons-world]

It's still mermay so I was thinking of another merfolk au, this time for drifting dragons,,,

I only drew Lee's merfolk design as a blue (or in this case purple) dragon slug because it still fits the 'dragon' theme and I couldn't think of more designs for other characters at the moment

[theriseofthebravetangleddragons]

Hello fellow ROTBTD fans, I come bearing news.

I had a terrible idea 37 hour ago and now you guys are gonna have to watch me fill this wall with post-it’s until I have a plot

I shall be making a playlist and a Pinterest board, and trying to figure out an outline.

Please read the tags while I try to make this post into a sandwich—

[lizzyiii]

just read “his lady love” and i’m completely obsessed with your writing, i definitely need a part 2 for that please 😭😭😭

His Lady Love (2)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

word count | 3.8k words

summary | you return to westeros, to find that the young prince has become a man and his burning infatuation with you has not died out and you reconnect with helaena

tags | no warnings? usual mention of targaryen incest (but let's be real, everyone who reads hotd fanfic has now normalised targcest), and child marriage (my poor bby Helaena), filler

note | oh my god, y'all 😭. idk what I was thinking with that dramatic ass mikaelson reveal. as we all know the reader is never described, but as we all also know the mikaelsons are white af. so I'm making it clear that the reader is NOT mikael's daughter, leaving the reader's description and race unknown, esther was busy getting her freak on and her real father will never be disclosed. because in my mind the reader or y/n is and will always be a curly-haired, brown-skinned baddie....so each to their own. AND I'm pretty sure this is going to be a series cause for the life of me I am unable to make a oneshot without further exploring a story.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Five long years had stretched into nearly two thousand sunrises since Aemond Targaryen last laid eyes upon you. Each passing day weighed heavily on his soul, a slow burn of a thousand bitter memories. Some days, the tempest of his emotions roiled within him, bidding him to hate you—for your departure, for the way you had vanished from court like a wisp of smoke, leaving only echoes and shadows in your wake.

But the flames of that hate flickered and faded, giving rise to a deeper yearning, a gaping void where love had once flourished. Even now, after all this time, your spirit held his heart captive, stolen under the very nose of fate when you chose to forsake the realm.

In the wake of your absence, thirteen year old Aemond had become a specter haunting the hallowed halls of the library, pouring over tomes and scrolls in a frantic quest for knowledge of House Mikaelson—a house that seemed to dissolve into the mists of myth with each turn of the page. The histories were silent, and when he turned to his elders, the lords and ladies of the court, their ignorance stung deeper than any sword. Your name was but a whisper lost amongst the louder clamor of dragons and destinies.

Desperation guided his steps toward the Queen’s solar, where his mother resided. He pressed forth, demanding answers of her, yet it was peculiar; though he sought her wisdom and guidance, she seemed to have forgotten the very reason of why she had made you one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her brows knitted with confusion as he spoke your name, her big brown eyes clouded with a nostalgia she could not place.

Yet Aemond could see it in the gentle curve of her lips, in the way her gaze drifted past him, as if searching for a phantom. She missed you, that was clear. Her heart held a chamber of memories crafted from your offered comfort amidst the whispers of court intrigue, from the grace of your presence that had brightened the darker days.

The weight of five relentless years bore heavily upon Aemond Targaryen. Through trials of fire and blood, he had forged himself anew, emerging both mentally and physically formidable. He was now the most skilled swordsman within the keep’s sturdy walls, a warrior of such caliber that even the esteemed Ser Criston Cole would struggle to match his prowess. Secluded in the dim light of solitary training grounds, he immersed himself in the ancient tomes of philosophy and the illustrious history of House Targaryen, dedicated to honing his mind as keenly as his sword.

Yet in this relentless pursuit of strength and mastery, the warmth of his heart had withered, leaving behind only the chill of calculated ambition. His facade, meticulously crafted, rendered him cold and unyielding — a visage so fierce that even the bravest souls flinched at the thought of meeting his gaze directly.

Thus, it was with a jarring dissonance that Aemond entered his sister, Helaena's solar that day. It was a ritual he had come to cherish against the backdrop of his darkening spirit, visiting her and the twins for a fleeting moment of respite. However, as he stepped across the threshold, the air thickened and his breath caught in his throat.

Helaena sat with delicate artistry upon a chaise, embroidering threads of vibrant colors while keeping a watchful eye on her children. But it was not the familiar sight of his sister that seized him. No, there, in the heart of the chamber, stood his mother, Queen Alicent, holding the hands of a woman whose features were obscured from his view. However, even with your back turned, he recognized you and your unmistakable figure.

Alicent’s large, expressive eyes caught his, shimmering with an emotion he had not anticipated. “Aemond,” she uttered softly, the sound piercing through the tension-laden silence.

With the calling of his name, you turned, and the breath in his lungs faltered. The years stretched out like an endless tapestry between the two of you, but as he beheld you standing there after all this time, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Five long years had passed, and in that span, Aemond had transformed. His once-boyish frame had hardened, each line of muscle now finely chiseled, his stature soaring to a height that eclipsed yours. He had shed the skin of youth and emerged a man forged by the fires of ambition and vengeance, yet he could feel a familiar tug at his heart as he stared at you.

But you… you had remained untouched by time’s relentless march. Your face, flawless and luminous, bore no marks of age; not a wrinkle nor blemish dared mar your smooth skin. Your form he remembered was preserved in perfection, your hair framing your figure in the same glorious waves that had enchanted him years ago.

You were the embodiment of memories he cherished, the same as ever.

For a fleeting heartbeat, Aemond dared to believe you were but a haunting mirage conjured by his yearning heart. If not for the watchful eyes of his mother and sister resting upon you, he would have thought himself lost to despair, ensnared by the fantasies of his own making.

An eternity seemed to stretch in the daunting silence that enveloped the two of you, the world around forgotten as each of you engaged in a quiet, yet profound examination. Your eyes sparkled like the night sky in the light of the day, and when you smiled—the same saccharine smile that had once filled his heart with joy during the innocence of his childhood—it left him breathless. “My prince,” you spoke softly, your voice dancing in the air, “how you’ve grown.”

In that moment, something within him shifted—a profound balm against the bitterness he had nurtured like a dark plant within his chest. All the resentment, the stinging remembrance of your abandonment, and the shadows of sadness that once clouded his thoughts dissipated at the mere sight of your smile. His throat was dry as a winter's night, thoughts scattered like ash on the wind, and yet, the corners of his mouth began to lift involuntarily, mirroring the warmth radiating from you.

Mikaelson.

A name that struck terror into the hearts of countless souls. Yet, here, in this strange realm of Westeros, where dragons soared and the icy dread of White Walkers loomed behind the walls, such fear was but a whisper lost to the winds. No, this land, though foreign and fierce, offered you sanctuary—not the kind woven from solace and warmth, but the kind fortified by distance and the absence of your cursed siblings.

Here, there were no vampires lurking in the cloaks of night, nor were there werewolves howling beneath the pale moonlight. Instead, there were dragons, fierce and resplendent, and direwolves, proud and wild. Most crucially, there was no Mikael—a freedom that tasted of hope amidst you heart's turmoil.

True, you thought often on whether you should have brought your siblings along, for Mikael would never find this place. Yet, a heavy foreboding gripped you; you understood all too well that the Mikaelsons (Niklaus) very presence would shatter the fragile peace you sought. Westeros was far from a land of plenty, riddled with poverty and further burdened by the cruel fate of women, yet in its chaos lay distance.

So, you fled, slipping away into the shrouded embrace of night, abandoning the only family you had known—or, more accurately, what was left of it. It was the sixteenth century, a time when hope flickered dimly in the eyes of men and women alike. You had not laid eyes upon Finn since Niklaus, in his relentless wrath, had condemned him to a tormented existence, and staked a dagger in his heart. Kol fared no better; his defiance had earned him Niklaus' ire, leaving him to face the very same fate that had befallen their eldest brother.

Months had slipped by as you braved the tempestuous seas, each wave an echo of your desperation, each gust of wind whispering promises of a new beginning. You had set sail toward the edge of the earth, guided by an insatiable yearning for freedom—until at last, you had discovered Westeros.

You had arrived in Westeros with an unyielding ambition, your ethereal beauty concealing a fierce determination that allowed you to easily compel your way into the court of Queen Alicent Hightower as one of her ladies-in-waiting. The smell of dragonfire and the whispers of civil war clung to the air, a distinct reminder of the foreign heritage of the Targaryens.

The first time you had seen one of the great beasts aloft, its shadow sweeping across the land, leaving you breathless and in awe. Dragons were an embodiment of the Targaryen power, but alongside that power lurked a shocking underbelly of normalized incestuous unions and the festering decay of traditional familial bonds. For a girl raised among the Mikaelsons, who had danced among the vices of immortality, this was both familiar and grotesque.

Your new world was laced with intrigue—rumors skittered through the halls like restless spirits. The whispers spoke of Princess Rhaenyra and the seed of doubt surrounding her claim to the Iron Throne, the barbs of scandal raised even higher by her many alleged bastards. These complexities intrigued you, compelling you to observe from the outside, where the machinations of power were far more amusing than any political play you had encountered in your old life.

Queen Alicent, though esteemed and regal, bore the weight of her flaws almost indiscernibly, like a cloak of gold marred by rust. From what you could tell, the Queen wielded herself like a pawn—her father being Otto Hightower, an unseen puppeteer, tugging at the strings of her choices. Maternal instinct flickered in Alicent like the candle flames that lit the chamber at night; she faltered and stumbled but made an earnest effort to nurture her children as best she could, though in your opinion she had failed miserably with Aegon. And yet, her fund of effort, a raw and poignant endeavor, resonated with you. The Queen was imperfect, yet within that human frailty lay a semblance of motherhood that Esther Mikaelson had failed to give you.

Thus, in your role as one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, you discovered a sanctuary of sorts. The court became a twisted labyrinth of alliances and betrayals, yet amidst the swirling intrigue, you found comfort in Alicent’s earnest attempts at kindness towards you.

In the two years you had spent in Westeros, you had found solace in the delicate friendship you created with Princess Helaena—a rare gem among the Targaryens, whose sweet and gentle spirit seemed devoid of the cunning that defined her kin. Helaena's quiet understanding struck a chord deep within you, reminiscent of a time before death had twisted your mind. Once, you too had lived in a world that felt like a dream, until Niklaus tore down the veil of your innocence with his ruthless reality check. He had carved fear into your heart, reminding you of the darkness that lurked within the world.

But as you observed Helaena, an overwhelming sorrow enveloped you. The Queen's decree to betroth the princess to Prince Aegon sank like a stone in her gut. Aegon—a broken soul, defined by indulgence and ambition—was a force of chaos that echoed the wickedness of their own familial bond. In many ways, he reminded you of Kol, with his infectious charm and volatile spirit, yet where Kol harbored a flicker of love beneath layers of darkness, Aegon radiated a depravity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your heart ached at the thought of Helaena being shackled to a boy so unworthy of her light. The specter of Aegon’s reckless nature loomed large, and you feared for the princess's fate. You could see it clearly: with every passing day of their union, Helaena’s spirit would wither under the weight of neglect and cruelty, her gentle soul extinguished in the fires of a loveless bond.

And then there was Prince Aemond, the second youngest son of Alicent's brood—a striking boy marked by a fierce determination to embrace his responsibilities as a prince. You often felt a pang of sympathy when you witnessed the relentless taunts from Aegon and the scornful jeers of his nephews, sorrow swelling in your chest at the knowledge that he was the only Targaryen without a dragon to call his own. And it was hard to ignore the tender glances he cast your way, his violet eyes lingering on you whenever you graced a room.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Aemond standing at your door during the elusive hour of the wolf, his ethereal silver hair, tousled and framing a face streaked with tears, the light of hope dimmed in his now singular violet eye. Fury ignited in your core when he confided the harrowing tale of how Aegon had dragged him to the Street of Silk, that dark sanctuary of vice—your heart shattered for the innocence that had been ripped from him, for the heavy shame that now clung to him, marked by his brother who should have looked out and protected him. By now, Aegon was six-and-ten, he should have gleaned wisdom from his years, yet he chose the path of cruelty instead.

In an effort to soothe the wounded prince, you opened your heart and your arms to him. You conceded to his requests, bathing him with tender care, allowing him the sanctuary of your presence as he lay beside you. Your intentions were pure, untainted by anything but the desire to comfort a boy you had come to deeply care for.

And yet, with a heavy heart, you turned your back on Westeros, your mind haunted by the echoes of family. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, you found yourself yearning for the bonds that had once defined you. The Targaryens, ensnared in their web of resentment and betrayal, made it clear that true loyalty and love were rare treasures. Their familial discord stood in stark contrast to the fierce devotion of your own bloodline. For all the chaos wrought by the Mikaelsons, love remained their unyielding anchor.

Niklaus, with his volatile nature, was both feared and revered by you; yet, beneath that fierce exterior lay a soul tormented by the shadows of his past, perpetually haunted by the specter of abandonment. Finn and Kol, locked in eternal slumber by Niklaus’s cruel whim, lay undisputed in their coffins, yet your brother stood sentinel over them, unwavering and steadfast. The thought of returning to him was chilling; the mere sight of you would surely earn a dagger in your own heart.

You resolved to escape, to steal away before Queen Alicent could impose a husband upon you like a gilded cage. It was meant to be a brief respite, a momentary retreat from your burdens. You had once believed that seamlessly integrating into the intricate tapestry of Westerosi society would be a simple endeavor. Yet, the relentless weight of expectations proved stifling. Each encounter demanded a dance of delicate grace, a façade meticulously curated to meet the desires of those around you, and in turn, it drained your very spirit.

Thus, you sought solace in the sun-drenched lands of Essos, a realm that defied the rigid conventions you had grown weary of. Essos was a land of vibrant colors and broken norms, where the sun shone unabated and the very air seemed to sing of possibility. Gone were the burdens of being gracious and demure, replacing those restraints with the intoxicating freedom to explore the wild tapestry of cultures sprawled before you. In a realm filled with mercenaries and traders, where the scent of spice mingled with the salty sea air, you couldn’t help but feel invigorated.

Shame washed over you like a cold wave, a sharp pang of regret settling in your chest as you sat in Princess Helaena's solar, surrounded by the laughter of her twins, Jahaerys and Jahaera. The children, mere five summers old, served as a vivid reminder of your absence; Helaena had brought them into the world at the tender age of fourteen, while you had been lost in the allure of Essos. Your own selfish pursuits had drawn you away from Westeros, leaving your dear friend to navigate the tides of motherhood without your companionship.

But now, fate had drawn you back to Westeros, though the reason for your return eluded you—perhaps it was mere curiosity, or a desire to witness the Targaryens as they embarked on a path toward their own ruin. Perhaps it was simply the lingering comfort of a maternal embrace that Queen Alicent had once offered you. One thing remained certain: you were back, unchanged yet bound by the curse that clung to the Mikaelsons. You still appeared as you had, forever encased at the tender age of six and ten, the same age at which you had died nearly six centuries ago.

The twins were a study in contrast. Jaehaerys, the young prince, was somber and introspective, casting shy glances your way from beneath the curtain of his silver hair. In contrast, Jaehaera exuded a lively spirit, her laughter as bright as the morning sun. She was a sweet girl, eager for your attention, her small hands clutching her beloved dolls as she beckoned you to join her in playful realms of castles and grand adventures. Every so often, Jaehaerys would join in, indulging his sister’s imagination by taking on the role of a fierce dragon, albeit with a reluctance that made his quiet demeanor all the more endearing.

“I have missed you,” Helaena said softly from her place on the chaise, delicate fingers working through the intricate patterns of her embroidery, her gaze never leaving the fabric.

You met her gaze, a frown momentarily shadowing your features, your heart tightening at the sight of her. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as you replied, "As I have missed you, princess. I offer my sincerest apologies for my prolonged absence."

“But you have returned, and that is what matters,” she replied with a tranquil certainty, her expression unwavering.

With a nod, you maintained your tight-lipped smile, the corners of your mouth struggling to lift fully. “Indeed, I have, and I hope to stay here for as long as fate allows.”

As you resumed your playful moments with the twins — Helaena’s voice broke through the lighthearted chaos as she called your name. “Pray tell, how old were you when you came to court?”

Your lips pursed gently as you recounted, your tone tense but soft, “I was but six and ten years, my dear princess.”

An oblivious smile spread across Helaena's face, illuminating her features. “And yet you appear unchanged, as if untouched by time’s passage. Like a Lepidoptera,” she remarked, her imagination weaving images as vivid as the embroidered fabrics around her.

Your brows knitted in puzzlement. "A what, my princess?"

"A Lepidoptera," she patiently repeated, her eyes shimmering with youthful curiosity. "It is a classification that encompasses butterflies, which remain breathtakingly lovely until the end of their days."

A bittersweet pang echoed within you at her words, for you were destined for a far different fate, cursed to wander the shadows as a creature of the night. Yet, you offered a slight nod, managing a soft, "Thank you, my princess," as you absorbed the weight of her innocent compliment.

“And yet, I cannot claim to have missed you as intensely as Aemond has,” Helaena mused, her gaze distant as you idly threaded your fingers through Jaehaera's shimmering locks of silver.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite grasp what you mean,” you replied softly, masking your understanding with a facade of innocence.

“I believe you are quite aware,” Helaena said softly, a melodic note in her voice, her smile lingering with a teasing warmth, “Aemond has loved you since he was a mere boy.”

You cast her a sidelong glance before adopting an air of nonchalance. “Love is a weighty term for one so young, Princess. Surely, it was nothing more than a fleeting fancy.”

Helaena shook her head, her needlework a steady rhythm in her hands. “No, I do not believe so.”

Deep down, you didn't believe so either. Ever since your return to the depressive halls of King's Landing, a sensation had accompanied your every step—a watchful gaze lingering upon you. Aemond had worked to keep it hidden, but your heightened senses revealed the quiet intensity of his interest, as vivid as the summer sun.

There had been numerous revelations awaiting you upon your return to the Red Keep—the prideful births of young Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, the scandal of Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon's elopement, and the grim decline of King Viserys's health, shadows stained upon the Iron Throne. Yet, the most haunting transformation was that of Prince Aemond.

Aegon had blossomed into the drunken sleaze you had always anticipated, a replica of the whims that dictated his every choice, but Aemond—oh, how he was the exact opposite of what you had envisioned. The youthful boy, once soft and unassuming, had unfurled into a striking figure, sharpened like the blade of a Targaryen sword, each line of his form etched with the harshness of time and expectation. His stature now towered over you, his presence immense, a tempest contained within the boundaries of a man’s body.

He seemed to carry within him a quiet fury, a storm beneath the surface, and it stirred something deep within you, a memory of that boy who had once been desperate for approval and had hope for a dragon. His boyish softness had been replaced by the resolute presence of a true dragon, a stark reminder of the power and peril that resided within his bloodline.

[novaursa]

The Last Flight

- Summary: You go to Dorne instead of your sister Rhaenys. And you never come back.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This short story covers one of possible endings of The Broken Crown series.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

- A/N: You want another scenario? Let me know.

The scorching heat of Dorne clings to your skin, the sun a burning coin suspended high in the azure sky. The wind carries with it the dry, acrid scent of sand, yet beneath you, there is power—an unrelenting force. Tesaerix, your magnificent golden and cream dragon, moves effortlessly through the air, her deep red eyes scanning the terrain below. You feel her muscles ripple beneath your thighs as she soars above the arid wasteland, the pride of your House and the symbol of your strength. Her scales shimmer in the sun, the blood-red undertones flashing like molten fire beneath her brilliant hide.

Your thoughts are consumed by Aegon. You can feel the weight of his presence, even when he is miles away. His absence is a shadow in your heart, a constant reminder of your duty you accepted with time, not only as his wife, his queen, but as his sister. You are bound to him in ways no one else will ever understand. And now, as you carry his second child within you, the bond feels even deeper, even more unbreakable.

The Dornish, however, are not so easily subdued. Even now, beneath the beauty of the clouds and sky, you know they scheme. They have always been the most defiant, and as much as you admire their resolve, you cannot allow it to stand. Your mind drifts to the days of battle yet to come, to the throne you and Aegon are building together, stone by stone, blood by blood.

But then—suddenly—Tesaerix stiffens beneath you, her wings faltering for just a fraction of a second. You feel the tremor run through her powerful frame, an emotion you had never associated with her before: fear. Your hand grips the reins tighter, your body leaning forward instinctively. Something is wrong.

And then you hear it.

The sharp, mechanical twang of a scorpion ballista firing, followed by the deafening roar that reverberates from Tesaerix’s throat, echoing through the sky like the crack of thunder. A bolt of dark metal tears through the air, faster than you can blink. It pierces Tesaerix’s left eye, burrowing deep into the vibrant red that once glowed with ferocity. Her scream of agony is a sound that will haunt you forever in the afterlife, shaking your very soul. You can feel the shockwave of her pain radiate through your bond, filling your mind with white-hot anguish.

“Tesaerix!” you scream, your voice lost in the howling wind. She convulses beneath you, her massive wings faltering, her graceful flight collapsing into chaos. She spirals downward, her roars now guttural, filled with unending torment. The wind tears at your hair and clothing as the ground rushes toward you both. You grasp desperately at the reins, but it is useless. The beast that was once the queen of the skies, unstoppable and unbowed, is now at the mercy of gravity and death.

You feel her strength waning, her fire dimming. She struggles to keep you aloft, her wings beating sluggishly, a far cry from the power they once held. She has always protected you, shielded you, but now... she is dying, and there is nothing you can do to save her. Your heart shatters, not only for her but for the life inside you, for the child that will never know the world you fought to create.

The last thing you see before the ground rises to meet you is the faint glimmer of Tesaerix’s blood-red scales flashing in the sun, her body contorting as she crashes into the earth. And then, everything is fire and darkness.

Pain explodes through your body as you hit the ground with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The impact shatters your bones, but it is the silence that follows that is the most terrifying. The bond you shared with Tesaerix, the link that had always thrummed with life, is severed. There is no heartbeat in your mind, no flicker of her presence. She is gone, and with her, your world unravels.

You try to move, try to reach out, but your body betrays you. Blood fills your mouth, the taste of iron sharp on your tongue. You can feel the life slipping away, faster than you ever imagined it would. Your hand instinctively moves to your belly, to the child within, but even that small motion is agony. Tears sting your eyes as you realize there will be no future for them. Aegon’s son or daughter will never be born.

Your thoughts drift to him, to your king, your husband, your brother. You wonder if he will feel it, the moment your life leaves your body, if he will know that his child is lost. You can see his face in your mind, the steely resolve that always made you feel safe. You want to tell him you love him, that you fought until the very end, that you died with your dragon by your side. But the words are lost in the blood that bubbles in your throat.

The sky above you dims as the world around you fades. You are alone now, alone with the silence of the dead, and the heat of Dorne’s relentless sun beating down on you.

With a final, shuddering breath, you close your eyes and surrender to the darkness.

The sun had begun its slow descent when Aegon received the news. He stood at the edge of the war table, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of Blackfyre, his ever-present symbol of command and power. But in that moment, the weight of the blade seemed insignificant, a mere tool in a world that had suddenly lost all sense.

A raven had come from Dorne, its message blunt and brutal, stripped of all the delicate lies courtiers usually crafted to soften blows. Tesaerix had fallen. She had fallen.

Your name was written on that small, crumpled piece of parchment, but it was as if he couldn’t comprehend it, as if it were not real. His mind swam, drowning in confusion, in denial. You—his sister, his queen, his love—were gone. The child you carried, his unborn son or daughter, gone with you.

For a moment, the world fell silent, save for the relentless beating of his heart, pounding in his chest like a war drum, louder and louder until it consumed everything else. His grip tightened around the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as the world blurred before his eyes.

Visenya and Rhaenys were there, though he barely noticed them at first. Visenya stood stoic, her sharp, regal face as unreadable as ever, though her eyes betrayed her. There was a glint there, something unspoken. She felt the loss too, he knew, but she didn’t speak. Visenya rarely needed words to convey the force of her presence. Rhaenys, on the other hand, had tears in her eyes, her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, anything, that would take away his pain. But nothing came.

He slammed his fist down on the table, sending maps and markers scattering to the floor. The room seemed to close in around him, suffocating. His vision darkened at the edges, a storm brewing in his chest, too fierce to be contained. Aegon, the Conqueror, the man who had never faltered, had never broken—was crumbling.

"How?" he finally rasped, his voice cracking in a way it never had before. He demanded answers from the silence, but there was no one left to give them.

Rhaenys stepped forward, her soft hand reaching for his, but he pulled away sharply, the touch unbearable. It was as if his very skin recoiled from the comfort, the warmth he could no longer feel. He didn’t want her pity, her gentle reassurances. They meant nothing. How could they, when you were gone?

"She... she died bravely, brother," Rhaenys said, her voice thick with sorrow. "She fell with her dragon—"

"Do not speak of her bravery to me!" Aegon roared, his voice filled with a fury that silenced even the birds outside. "She was my wife, my queen. I should have been there. I should have protected her!"

Visenya’s calm mask finally cracked. "Aegon, there was nothing you could have—"

"Enough!" he shouted, his chest heaving with each breath. The words felt hollow, empty. No matter what his sisters said, the guilt gnawed at him, tearing him apart from within. He should have known the dangers. He should have been with you, should have flown by your side. The image of you—falling, lost, dying with Tesaerix—flashed before his eyes. It was unbearable.

He turned his back to them both, his hands trembling as they hovered over the hilt of Blackfyre once more. It would be so easy to lash out, to let the sword take away this unrelenting agony. To cut down those who had taken you from him.

"I will burn them," he whispered, his voice cold, deadly. "All of them."

Visenya and Rhaenys exchanged a glance, but neither dared to argue. They had seen this side of him before—the part of him that was not just king, not just conqueror, but something darker, something ancient. The dragon that slept within him had awoken, and it hungered for vengeance.

Aegon turned, his eyes burning with unshed tears, yet blazing with the intensity of dragonfire. "Dorne will pay," he said, the words venomous. "I will rain fire upon them until their deserts turn to glass. Every man, woman, and child who had a hand in this... they will know my wrath. No one will escape it. I swear it."

Rhaenys, always the one to temper his fire, reached for him again. "Aegon, vengeance will not—"

"Do not speak of mercy to me, Rhaenys," he snapped, his gaze cold, distant. "I will hear no more of it. They took her. They took my child." His voice cracked again, and this time, it broke something in him. He sank to his knees, the weight of it all too much to bear.

For the first time in his life, Aegon Targaryen, the dragonlord, the Conqueror, wept. His shoulders shook, his hands gripping the cold stone of the floor as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. Visenya knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder, but even her presence could not reach him now.

He had lost you, and in losing you, he had lost a part of himself. His sisters could not comfort him, for there was no comfort to be had. There was only the aching void where you had once been.

And in that void, only one truth remained. The fire of vengeance would consume him, just as it would consume Dorne. He would not rest, not until the ones responsible had been reduced to nothing but ashes and bone.

The dragons would fly, and the world would burn for what they had done to you.

[she-whatshername]

EVEN MORE Tyrrish Headcanons you didn’t ask for (Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi, Imogen, aka the Kitchen Table crew)

AN: Wow I’m just posting everything but a chapter update to ‘Drifted’ aren’t I? Writing about trauma is hard for me, and IDK why i chose to make Cree’s character full of it and pair her with Bodhi who’s…surrounded by it. But, what’s a fanfic without a little author induced torture, right?

ANYWAYs, let’s get into it

Garrick, Imogen, and Bodhi would draw straws on who would have to update Xaden on Violet during her first year before Liam was tasked as her bodyguard. Bodhi never drew the short straw but was always the one who ended up telling Xaden. He carried on the tradition after Garrick and Xaden graduated.

Bodhi is viewed as the little brother of the group for two reasons. One, he always was one step behind Xaden and Garrick and a physical year younger than him. And two, despite everything he's been through, he never let it take away his humanity. Xaden cruelly jokes that Bodhi is the only one in the revolution with a still beating heart

Bodhi only 'broke character' once during his years at Basgiath when someone in his squad used a particular slur when referencing his deceased mother. Garrick and Xaden had to drag him off the cadet and dispose of the body and make a cover up so he didn't get charged with breaking the codex. It was their first trio heist together before the actual weapons operations.

Garrick didn't talk to Imogen the first month of her year at Basgiath because he was ashamed of all the horrible things he'd done in his first year

Every one of them has cried in front of Xaden at least once. Even Imogen, though she was heavily inebriated

Also, everyone has cried in Bodhi's lap. Even Xaden, who was also heavily inebriated.

Xaden didn't want to let Imogen into operations at first due to her unpredictable emotions; Garrick convinced him otherwise. When Imogen thwarted not one but 4 separate attempts on Xadens life, it was one of the first and few times he actually admitted to Garrick that he was right.

When Garrick and Xaden found out that Bodhi lost his virginity to someone at Basgiath the two literally detoured from their weapons operations to find out who it was like the protective and nosy older brothers that they are.

Imogen snorts when she laughs. She rarely laughs as deeply as she used to so when it does slip out, it instantly makes everyone feel like they aren't in a active war and that they're back home in Aretia.

Bodhi, Xaden and Garrick have all had sexual relationships with Fliers/Poromish people. Imgoen has not and refuses to out of what she calls 'pride and respect for dragons.'

I think all Tyrrish folk are pretty open and fluid about their sex lives until they find their person. Much like fated couples or mates, its Tyrrish tradition to find 'your person'.

I think they all marry for love only and Xaden's family dynamics are the outlier. Though I think Fen's 'person' was Tyrrendor the country verses Xaden's mother.

Because of this, Xaden grew up with a warped perception of romance and relationships. Also, he's fluent in all Tyrrish history and customs. He knew and spoke Tyrrish before the common language, and learning the common language was very difficult for him.

Also, Imogen is Garrick's person, 100%.

Xaden got his ego, wit and charisma from his father but his aunt, Bodhi's mother, taught him a lot about actual charm.

It was actually his aunt who, upon finding out that then 13 year old Xaden ghosted his girlfriend, made him go the the gardens and pick fresh flowers and hand deliver them to the girl's house with a handwritten apology declaring his 'boyish stupidity'.

Before the unification, if someone finds their person and they choose to marry, the couple would create a rune specific to the joining of their love/family house. Xaden giving Violet a book on weaving textiles was NO coincidence.

Tyrrish weddings are fun as shit (Why yes, there is one in 'Drifted'). In fact, there is a 'Cardulo Clause' that states that any wedding guest who drinks beyond their fare share at a wedding ceremony most pay a balance to the respective wedding partners. This came in part due to Imogen's great, great grandfather who, legend says, drank an entire keg to themselves during a wedding.

Okay now I'm actually going to go back and write 'Drifted'.

[artemiscrocksgf]

pleasure | rhaenyra x fem!reader

rated: mature, explicit 18+ (minors DNI) nsfw

pairings: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

summary: “There are other means of pleasure”

warnings: smut, some explicit language, fingering (receiving and giving), oral female

word count: 2.5k

loosely inspired @delfiore 's story <3

a/n: this is my first time ever writing smut or fanfic in general so please forgive me if this terrible!! but if u do enjoy i'd appreciate if you like or reblog

The grand hall filled with chatter, as the King hosted his festivities in honor of his son's fifth nameday with the Lady Alicent Hightower, now Queen Alicent. It had been years since you had returned to Kings Landing though back then you were a mere child – now a lady to be paraded to the court for a husband.

Rows of tables fill the hall, each accompanied by the royal Houses of the kingdom allied to the King. You slowly trail behind your father, the soft glow of the candles and the sounds of the orchestra warmed the air of the Red Keep – the feeling almost nostalgic to your childhood. Your father was among the Kings' council, your mother a dear friend to the late Queen Aeema meaning you often frequented Kings Landing.

As you made your way to your table, indulging in false pleasantries with people you did not know, you found your eyes wandering the hall for a certain Targeryan. Your gaze lands on the empty seat beside King Viserys' royal table, a twinge of disappointment pierces your heart letting it soak for a split second you turn your attention back to the feast that lays in front of you. That was one of the many riches you adored during your stays at the Red Keep, the King did know how to throw a grand feast. Although you try your best to distract yourself, filling your cup with the juice of the grape – your eyes cannot help but drift to the empty seat.

You let your mind turn off as you fake conversations, nodding absentmindedly at the politics thrown at you. When a glimpse of silver-blonde braided hair catches the corner of your eye, she walks towards the King, her guard on tail. You subtly watch her movements, she looked the same as you once remembered but something had changed about her — she stood more confidently. Her eyebrows furrowed as she sternly spoke to her father, you were seated too far to hear the conversation but you could tell neither one of them was happy. Ending the conversation, Rhaenyra abruptly exited the hall ignoring the calls from her father and her guard.

You wait a few moments before excusing yourself from your table, quietly leaving the festivities. You wonder the torchlit corridors, your footsteps echoing the stone pavement. You search the grounds when you catch her sitting on a stone ledge with her knees in her arm. Her face was lost in thought oblivious to your presence, "A gold dragon for your thoughts Princess?".

Following the voice that startled her, Rhaenyra turns, her eyes lighting up when she sees your familiar face. "I did not know you would be attending…" she smiled, pulling you into a gentle embrace, "I would have greeted you if I had," her fingers lingering across your arms. Her fingertips stop at the Valyrian steel bracelet that adorned your wrist. She smiles softly, "You still wear it?" fumbling with the red stones encrusted around the bracelet.

"Of course, it was a gift from the Princess… now heir to the Iron Throne! I shall treasure it with my life." you laugh holding your hand across your heart.

"Heir… to the Iron Throne.." Rhaenyra repeated, her smile fading as she picked at the threads on her embroidered gown. Her expression was not of one that was happy with being named Heir. Rhaenyra exhaled through her nose, letting out a sigh in annoyance. "My father sent me on tour to find the most suitable knight or lord for my impending betrothal…" she paced back and forth. "All of them were halfwits who would not know the difference between their own balls and a dragon's egg." she scoffed letting out her annoyance, "Just the mere thought of having to bed with any of them makes me want to be ill". You sat down on the stone ledge, trying to stifle your amusement at the Princess' disgust.

"This is not a laughing matter, you will not find this amusing when you are devoid of pleasure," Rhaenyra hissed, her arms crossed. Just the thought of Rhaenyra experiencing pleasure sends a blush across your cheeks. "What is it I hear? That you are to be betrothed to Lord Jason Lannister of Casterly Rock?" she teases.

It would be a lie to say you did not find the Princess attractive, but the feeling of heat that seared from your center was something you had not felt for Rhaenyra before. Perhaps the wine had given you confidence or perhaps the haze of desire that clouded your mind drew you towards her — her eyes softly watching your movements as you stood toe to toe.

"There are other means of pleasure," you murmur, your fingertips grazing the sleeve of her gown, your words lingering in the quiet air. What you and Rhaenyra were doing was unfit for the Heir of the Iron Throne, unfit for any becoming lady but the adrenaline that pulsed throughout your body hid your worry.

Her eyes drifted to your mouth, "Tell me," she prompts. Rhaenyra steps forward, the warmth of her body heat lingers, as her deep blue eyes burn into yours. She was so close to you, you could smell her scent – a mix of lilies and dragon, everything about her was intoxicating. Without realizing what you were doing, you reach up cupping her cheek as you bring her closer to your lips when the sudden slam of the grand hall doors startles you both.

She hastily grabs your hand, pulling you with her as she runs down the corridor, the voices from the hall becoming quieter as you run farther away. She pulls you behind one of the stone columns, hiding from the guards that patrolled the halls. Seeing the opportunity she continues running your hand still in hers. Before you could even decipher where you were, Rhaenyra tugged you into a dark room locking the door behind her. You lean against a pillar trying to catch your breath as you study the room you were in, "Are we in the spare quarters?"

Rhaenyra lights a candle illuminating the room, "Do you recall when we would sneak out of our chambers and come here to drink in the late hours," she laughs, the sweet sounds of her laughter making you smile. She catches you staring at her lips while she extinguishes the match, a cocky grin spreading across her face. Heat rushes to your cheeks maybe from the embarrassment or from the heat that filled the air, "Or when you convinced me to ride dragon back with you" you reply diverting the attention, "Gods, we gave our parents a fright when they saw us — my father stationed a guard outside my chamber every night for a week after that,".

"I did not hear the end of it for a month!" she whined, both of you reminiscing on the memories of your childhood. You move towards her gently holding her hands, "Rhaenyra forgive me for not visiting you sooner." You smile sincerely as you rub the back of her hand with your thumb – Rhaenyra's composure changes, her eyes darkening giving you a coquettish glance.

"You are here now," she murmurs, her fingers caressing yours. Pulling you closer to her, she wraps her arm around your waist causing you to let out a small gasp from the sudden contact. Her hands were on your torso, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of your gown. Goosebumps travel up your spine as you feel her fingers linger up the base of your back to the nap of your neck, gently resting her thumb on your jaw. Your breath catches in your lungs as the Princess brushes her hand on your cheek. "Show me the other ways" her soft eyes locked on yours, slowly pulling you closer to her lips nose skirting yours as her lips hover mere inches away. Her lips brush yours, moving against yours hungrily, and in a way that leaves your mind dazed and your lungs nearly breathless. Rhaenyra's lips smother your small moan as the warmth of her tongue skims against yours.

You pull away from the kiss, a frown spreading across Rhaenrya's face, her lips missing yours. You hold her hand guiding her over to the dressing mirror, pulling her in front of you as you both stand looking at the reflection. She tries to turn and face you but you hold her firm, "Stay," you command.

The rise of your chest is pressed against her back, your hand following the curves of her body - the other tangling in her gown as your lips gently press against her shoulders. Her eyes follow your gentle touch, her lips parting slightly when your palms gaze down her stomach. You reach the hem of her gown and pull it up, your fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps. The effect you have on her leaves you with searing heat from the center of your core. Leaning forward, you slid your hands further up her thigh, Rhaenyra's breath quickens as her skin prickled with heat under your touch. Your hands part her thighs, the distracting caress of your touch has her eyes sink closed, her breathing grows heavier. Your fingers trail the top of her wetness, circling her clit and then down to rub over her dripping entrance. Sliding your fingers through her soaked folds, back and forth they tease.

Letting out a soft whimper, Rhaenyra pushes your palm closer to her wet lips. With a smirk, you rest your cheek down against her shoulder, circling her clit, you tease the entrance of her wetness – slowly sinking the tip of your finger inside her. Her knees buckle with your touch – gliding like silk you easily slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle. You watch her in the mirror, as you slip two fingers into her slit, slowly drawing them out, your finger slick with her wetness. You thrust them back in, setting a steady pace, making her eyes roll back with pleasure with every stroke. Rhaenyra wrapped her arm behind her grasping your face, as you curled your fingers pumping in rapid beats against her wetness. "Seven hells," she moans, her face flustered as her hips grind into your palm.

"Open your eyes," You coo into her ear, Rhaenyra's back sinks further into your chest, almost causing you to lose your balance. Your other hand gripping her breast through her gown, her eyes locked on you as you continue to sink further in her. Thrusting in her, you feel her body seize up tight – squirming underneath your hold, you continue to pump your fingers through her orgasm. As she heaves for a breath, you slowly pull your fingers out – dripping with her cum. You turn her around, capturing her mouth in a deep kiss, your hands gripping her face as you back her into the pillar. You lower yourself kneeling as you lift her gown, getting a perfect view of her wetness. Letting out a gasp Rhaenyra trembles as she feels your mouth teasing her entrance, her eyes instantly rolling back as you lick her wet folds. Her hand tangled in your hair, "Fuck" she cries, your tongue pushing in and out of her. You send her into another frenzy, her sensations spilling over as you savor the taste and the noises that she makes.

She slowly brings your face up to hers, her hands tangled in your hair as she pulls you in for a kiss, your mouth parts as you feel the soft brush of her tongue. You feel her lips tug into a smirk as she pulls away, grappling with your gown she guides you to her bed.

Her fingers toyed with the string of your gown, gently tugging and pulling until the material pooled by your ankles, leaving you bare. Doing the same, Rhaenyra tugged the cloth over her head freeing her breast. You lay down on her bed, admiring her exposed body. The ethereal lines of her face, and the softness in those blue eyes as she watches you. It drives you wild. Straddling on top of you, her hands explore your body – the flats of her fingertips rolling over your nipple. "Rhaenyra you do not need to", your voice shaky.

"I want to pleasure you as you did me,". Leaning down, she molds her mouth to yours, Rhaenyra nips at your bottom lip, her lips smothering your soft moan as she draws you in for another kiss you. Pulling away, she slowly moved down your body leaving wet kisses across your bare skin until she was between your thighs. A whine escaped your lips, unable to close your legs as a burning tension collects in your core. Rhaenyra lowers herself, arching her back to get the perfect view of your wet folds – her fingers trace circular patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending ripples to your throbbing center. You tense as the tips of her fingers brush down your wet slit, back and forth she teases.

"My love…" letting out a needy moan, "I will not be able to take it if I do not feel you inside me", aching for her touch, you shift your hips closer. With no warning, Rhaenyra thrusts her fingers into your entrance – your hands gripping her sheets as she plunges deeper into you. Deep inside your core, her finger brushes against the rough spot of nerves against your walls. You tense as you feel Rhaenyra slip two fingers inside, your walls stretching around them, sending waves of pleasure through the walls of your cunt. Her two fingers slick with your wetness plunge deeper without resistance. Doing her best to replicate what she had experienced, her mouth slips around your clit – tracing circles with her tongue. Waves of pleasure cascade through every nerve in your body. Her mouth laps your entrance, gently sucking your clit while her fingers are still thrusting inside your clenched walls. The sight of the Princess devouring your swollen lips sends you over the edge, and the bubbling energy coiling in the pit of your stomach violently spills over. Head thrown back and panting, Rhaenyra continues to lick you through your climax, her fingers plunging faster into you. You feel your muscles tense as the orgasm grows, pulsing around her fingers – everything tightens like a vice, stars imploding behind your eyelids. You whine and subconsciously try closing your legs as the ecstasy sends waves from your core to every nerve in your body, Rhaenyra's hand dipping further into your thighs, her other hand pinning down your legs.

Your ears ring, the ecstasy bursting through your trembling body. Your knees buckle, your eyes squeezed shut – the feeling descending upon you in a vicious wave. Your chest heaving, you pull Rhaenyra from your thighs to your mouth capturing her in a deep kiss.

"Realm's delight indeed.." you smirk.

[yummycastiel]

''The Dreamer'' Aemond Targaryen x OC

summary: Daenys Velaryon, the brown-haired third child of Rhaenyra and Laenor, travels to King's Landing with her family to visit the King, her grandfather, and to witness Jacaerys' and Baela's wedding. As tensions between house Targaryen rise, Daenys and Aemond cross paths once again, and the prince discovers an annoying attraction to the Velaryon girl. (AU where the Dance doesn't happen because I said so and I just wanted to write an Aemond fanfic that isn't too complicated lol). This is part 1 of a fic in the works so comment if ur down for chapter 2! (SERIES MASTERLIST HERE)

a/n: Yeah so while I AM team black, house of the dragon has me OBSESSED with Aemond, like i mean, i have an unhealthy obsession with this man. i decided to write a fanfic to indulge myself but i hope anyone reading this enjoys!

warning for targaryen incest: i have never written incest before, nor am i cool with it, but since house of the dragon aired i guess we all have decided to not really care about a fantasy family doing fantasy incest but i guess i need to put a warning for anyone who isn't down for it. it is what it is!

Enjoy :)

~~~

Daenys.

Daenys Velaryon felt the wind blowing through her brown hair as she rode atop her dragon, Aegarax, and she watched as the Red Keep grew bigger and bigger as she approached it at a quick pace. Daenys almost wanted to keep on flying, but she resisted the urge as her dragon lowered her to the ground steadily. Since she could remember, flying with Aegarax was her favorite thing in the world. She had decided at an early age that if she could ride dragon back forever as opposed to walking, she would. Daenys knew that this was due to her bond with the black dragon, who had been hatched the same day she was born. Her mother, Rhaenyra, had a dragon egg brought to her to sleep next to every night while pregnant with Daenys to secure a dragon for her daughter before she was even born. Since birth, Daenys and Aegarax had been united, dragon and rider sharing the same sensations and thoughts, telepathically connected. Daenys would die for her dragon, who she named after one of the gods of old Valyria, and watched as the onyx-colored dragon grew, which he did at a faster pace than more dragons, to the point where he was almost as big as Syrax. Aegarax was strong, formidable, and Daenys loved him.

Aegarax descended, giant wings beating down on the ground like a windstorm, and Daenys saw Lucerys and Jacaerys arrive on their own dragons. The dragon keepers approached the three dragons, welcoming them back to the Dragon Pit. As Daenys dropped down from her saddle, she turned to stroke Aegarax with a loving hand.

‘’I’ll see you soon.’’ She promised whispering as if the dragon could respond, but in a way he did, because he gave her a nudge with his huge snout, almost pushing her over. The girl giggled but was interrupted by a voice that startled her out of her thoughts.

‘’That’s a gorgeous beast.’’ The low, calm voice drifted through the air. Daenys and her older brothers whipped around to see a tall, silver-haired man with an eye-patch covering his left eye standing at the door to the dragon pit, one hand resting on a sheathed sword. He was staring at Daenys and her brothers intently, his one violet eye wide and menacing.

‘’Aemond.’’ Lucerys greeted in a less-than friendly tone. As the dragon keepers led their dragons away, the three Velaryon sibling approached their uncle cautiously, no love lost between the boys and the older Targaryen. Daenys sized him up. He was no longer a boy like she remembered, but a man, tall, svelte, with strong shoulders. He was carrying himself with an air of aloofness, his stoic face giving no emotion away.

Daenys was years younger than her uncle, but she remembered growing up alongside him, and remembered when he had lost his eye. She was quite young, around 5 years old, but she recalled the drama that occurred, how Aemond refused to stay in bed to heal, instead deciding to continue his sword training skills with Criston Cole. Daenys had been too young then to understand the bitter schism between Alicent Hightower’s family and Rhaenyra’s, and she decided to become Aemond’s little shadow. She followed him around, watching as he trained, listening to him read out from the history books to her, and sat next to him during dinner. He seemed to enjoy the company, from what she remembered, as she noticed he was estranged from his brother and the other boys. As she got a bit older, she could acknowledge that she had a little childhood crush on the boy, but as she grew even more aware of the hostility between their ‘’sides’’ she knew that that was all it would ever be. Yet, she still decided to be friendly with the older boy, not caring about his disfigured face and missing eye. As an older girl now, she wondered why Aemond had tolerated her, seeing as he despised her brothers, Luke and Jace, due to their alleged bastard-nature that Alicent had brain washed him to believe.

The issue of her and her sibling’s birth, was known to her. Harwin Strong was their father, but they still were Targaryens through and through, and she never doubted that for a second. They shared the same father, Laenor, who was now dead. While the cruel jokes and taunts about them being bastards bothered her brothers, Daenys never seemed to care that much. She refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her react in any way to the ‘’baseless’’ lies. She had Valyrian blood either way.

Now she had come face to face with her uncle Aemond, older, and so different. The awkward, shy boy from her youth was no longer, but instead he stood quite tall, long silver hair draped over his shoulders. His face was lean, narrow, his strong chin pursing his lips into a permanent smirk. His face, while still scarred, more handsome than Daenys wanted to admit. His eye glittered in the dim light of the Dragon Pit as his eyes settled on her.

‘’Nephews…niece.’’ He greeted, giving her a wry little smile. Daenys bit her lip, suddenly very conscious of not knowing what to do with her hands. She began to wring them nervously, much like her mother did.

‘’Uncle.’’ Was all she returned. Aemond took a step towards her, which did not go unnoticed by Jace, who proceeded to stand in front of her protectively. Aemond’s eye narrowed but he froze.

‘’You and your dragon have grown splendidly since I last saw you.’’ The prince mused.

‘’Thank you, Your Grace.’’ Daenys managed, not sure where the conversation was going or why Aemond was paying her so much attention. As if he could read her mind, Aemond’s eyes turned to her brothers.

‘’Dear nephews,’’ He began in a taunting tone, ‘’You haven’t changed a bit since I last saw you both. Mayhaps you look a bit more strong.’’ Their uncle chuckled as he watched Jace and Luke bristle at his words. Daenys rolled his eyes. Evidently the prince liked wordplay.

‘’Let’s go,’’ She muttered, pulling at Jace’s sleeve, ‘’We don’t have time for this.’’ Luke and Jace obliged, giving Aemond a dirty look, but as they passed by their uncle Daenys tried her best to avoid his gaze as she was intently aware that he was staring at her. She risked a glance at the older man and as soon as she confirmed that he was indeed studying her, looking at her, like she was the first woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her first instinct was to look away, but she met his gaze and without meaning to she smiled at him. Aemond’s eyebrow raised, his eye changing from a look of smugness to a softer, more surprised look. Daenys looked away immediately to follow Luke and Jace out of the Dragon Pit to meet their mother in the Keep, too afraid to look back at the prince.

Aemond.

To say Aemond was a little more pleased than he should be to see the arrivals of his nephews was an understatement. While he was expecting to see Jacareys and Lucerys, the Strong bastards he had a deep dislike for, he was surprised to see Daenys, his bastard niece, jump from her great black dragon. He realized that he had completely forgotten about her, as many years had passed since he’d last seen her, but now that he looked at her every memory came rushing back.

The prince recalled how he would read to her in the library as children, how she’d laugh at his witless jokes, and watch as he trained with Ser Criston. She had never failed to make his day better in their youth, even after the bitter loss of his eye. Daenys had been ecstatic to find out he had claimed Vhagar. Aemond chuckled to remember how she had begged him to take her for a ride on Vhagar’s back, but at the time Aemond had been too scared to take her up with him, for fear of an accident happening. Other than his sister, Daenys had been the only family member he liked being around. He didn’t even seem to recall the fact that she too was a bastard, like her brothers. Her sweet nature as a child must have won him over. But she had been so young, she must have forgotten by now, as well as been brainwashed to hate him like her older brothers did.

Aemond gazed at Daenys now, who was grown up, a girl of seven and ten years old. Aemond begrudgingly noticed that she really had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her dark brown hair fell to her shoulders in soft, gentle waves, still messy from the ride on Aegarax. She was dressed in black riding pants, with leather boots that reached her knees. Instead of a tunic she wore a black leather jerkin overtop a white blouse, the Targaryen sigil embroidered on in red on the chest, and the blue Velaryon seahorses adorning the sleeves. Daenys Velaryon looked every bit a proper dragon rider. When she turned to look at him Aemond felt his heart clench in his chest as he got a good look at her face. She was fair, big brown eyes as opposed to violet ones studying him. Her face was round, all soft edges, with the same aquiline nose of house Targaryen. Freckles dappled her sun kissed skin, probably from so much time under the sun atop her dragon. Aemond drank her presence in, unable to tear his gaze away.

The little boy inside him wanted to shy away, his old insecurity of his scarred, ugly face coming back to haunt him as he met the gaze of the woman that he knew he was supposed to hate as much as her siblings. He cursed at the intrusive thoughts of Daenys’ pretty demeanor that attacked his mind, voices that reminded him that Daenys would find him disgusting, find his missing eye disgusting, like some women in court did, but when she smiled at him, Aemond’s fears vanished.

Daenys smiled at him, even after he taunted her brothers. In that moment he felt his heart soar, and he wondered if this is how he felt as a child whenever he had been with her. Aemond’s usually impenetrable heart softened slightly, which he fucking hated.

~~

comment below or message me if you'd like to be on the taglist for this story, if anyone reads it i guess haha :)

[1800-fight-me]

The Phantom of the Red Keep

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Phantom of the Opera AU 

Rating: M (Mature)- as a general rule for my blog, minors please do not interact! 

Warnings: Gothic horror romance vibes, violence, very sensual scenes but nothing explicit, jealous and possessive aemond- this is not what we would consider a healthy relationship lol

Word count: About 8.5k

Synopsis: You are haunted by the phantom of the Red Keep and he is determined to make you his. 

Author’s note: This is not an exact retelling of Phantom of the Opera, it is based off of the vibes and loose plot, though I took a ton of liberties and of course the villain gets the happy ending in my version. This has been long awaited and its finally here and I am so excited!! I hope this lives up to the hype! Thank you so much @anepitomeofgrace for the mood board! 

Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! 

Aemond Masterlist

You moved into the Red Keep when you were a young girl after your mother died and your father was given a position in the king’s small council. Everyone warned you of the ghosts that reside there. 

But you never were very afraid of ghosts. 

When a phantom voice began to speak to you through the walls at night, you were not afraid but rather enchanted. 

Your ghost had a beautiful voice, soft and low, as he whispered secrets to you from within the castle walls. 

Years passed and you told no one of your encounters with the phantom of the Red Keep, preferring instead to keep his existence to yourself. 

You used what he taught you to your advantage. People often questioned where and how you learned to navigate the political landscape of the capital city so well and how you seemed to know everything that happened within it, but you would not reveal your ghost to others. 

He was your watchful eye, your teacher, your companion in loneliness, your salvation. 

You often wondered if he was truly a ghost or if the rumors of the scarred and reclusive prince were true. 

But you never dared to ask, scared you would offend and lose him. 

You heard his voice even in your slumber, the soft lilt of his accent as he led you into dreams, dark and deep and often of him. 

He called your name, voice low and seductive, and you smiled. 

“Tell me of your day,” he ordered as you unfastened the bodice of your dress in preparation to retire for the night. 

You never worried if your phantom could see you in states of undress for a part of you would always belong to him, and besides, he was a ghost, or so you believed. 

“Lord Stark did in fact attempt to make a move like you warned me he would,” you said softly as you slipped the dress off your body. 

“Hm,” the unpleased hum echoed through the room. 

“I managed to dissuade his efforts,” you said softly. 

“Your father will not tolerate your insolence for much longer,” he mused. 

You sighed as you pulled on your nightgown. 

“I do not wish to marry.” The end of the sentence, ‘anyone but you’ went unspoken. 

For how do you confess to a ghost that you love him? 

The soft chuckle heard made your heart thump in your chest as you slipped beneath the sheets of your bed. 

“You will eventually be forced,” he said. 

“But you can still help me to delay the inevitable, yes?” 

“Of course, my sweet,” he promised. 

You sighed in contentment. 

“Will you tell me another story about dragons to help me sleep?” 

You drifted off to sleep with images of fire breathing dragons in your sleep and the warmth of your phantom’s voice in your ears. 

———————-

“How interesting,” you said and your bored tone betrayed your true feelings as Lord Greyjoy rambled on about the types of wood his ships were built from. 

You wished you could steal one of his ships and sail far away from him. 

You took another sip of your wine and withheld your sigh as the man, oblivious to your impatience, began speaking of sails and the type of material used to create them. 

You wondered how long you would have to suffer through this before you could escape to the library. 

The quiet refuge of books was your favorite place in the Red Keep. The fact that your phantom often visited you there only played a small part in why you loved it so. 

“Lord Lannister!” you said in surprise as he approached you and the dreadfully dull Lord sitting on the bench next to you. 

“Hello, my lady,” he said kindly and nodded to Lord Greyjoy. 

“I was wondering if I could perhaps steal your attentions for a short while,” the handsome man said. 

“Of course!” you said all too excitedly. 

He smirked. 

“I am sorry, Lord Greyjoy,” you said, your tone full of sincerity that you didn’t feel. 

“It is alright, I shall have to finish telling you about the wonders of my ships another time,” he said kindly. 

“Absolutely,” you agreed and took Lord Lannister’s hand. 

He led you down the path through the gardens and once you were certain you were no longer in hearing distance you looked up at him. 

At the twinkle of amusement you saw in his eye, you both began to laugh. 

“That man is such a bore,” he said and you giggled once more in agreement. 

“I hope it is alright that I came to rescue you from his clutches,” he said dramatically and teasingly. 

“It is more than alright,” you said with a smile. 

“My hero,” you teased and he smirked once again. 

You had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Lord Lannister as he walked you through the gardens and eventually deposited you in the library. 

He was very kind, if a bit arrogant, but you found that you did not mind his company and he respected you as a person which was much more than many of them men vying for your hand could offer. 

Unfortunately your afternoon did not get better as you anticipated, for you never heard the sound of your ghost’s voice as you read quietly in your secluded corner of the library. 

He did not visit you that night either. 

You tossed and turned and struggled to sleep without the comfort of his gentle voice. 

When sleep eventually took you, you dreamt of an angel with a halo of white hair who beckoned you to follow him into darkness. 

———————-

The next day Lord Lannister invited you to dine with him, which you accepted. 

You tried to be realistic. Your yearning for a man you were not sure even existed would not help you in this life. 

Your father would marry you to someone soon and at least the man before you was relatively kind and not positively tedious to spend time with. 

You even managed to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the arrogant statements he made from time to time so as to not bruise his ego. 

He was kind enough and you were prepared to settle, so when he moved to kiss you, you allowed him. 

It was a short, proper kiss and did not arouse any sort of feelings within you. 

But you smiled at him and thanked him for walking you to your rooms before you found solace within them. 

You sighed as the door shut behind you and you were once again alone. 

Your favorite voice whispered your name and the hairs on the back of your neck prickled. 

You were not alone. 

“You are back,” you said breathlessly. 

“I did not leave,” he said, his voice hard. 

“I… you did not speak to me last night,” you said. 

“You betrayed me,” he said and anger colored his tone. 

“No, I-“ you protested but were cut off by him. 

“No? What do you call it when you smile and bat your pretty eyelashes at a man? What do you call it when you allow another man to kiss you?” 

His voice was low and dangerous, full of anger. It should have frightened you but instead you felt indignant. 

“It is not as if you kiss me! I do not even know if you are real or a figment of my imagination!” 

“Do I not feel real enough to you when you touch yourself to the sound of my voice?” he growled out. 

You gasped in shock. 

“Do not bother pretending, my sweet. You are not as subtle as you think you are,” he said. 

Tears of embarrassment pricked your eyes. 

“I am real, pretty girl. Do you not remember how all the suitors you despised seemed to suddenly disappear?” 

“That was you?” you asked in surprise. 

You sat heavily down at the end of your bed. 

“Of course, I protect what is mine. You are mine, are you not?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out, spellbound. 

“Good girl. You shall have your proof of my existence soon enough, but you must be patient. Can you do that for me?” 

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” you said hurriedly, excitedly. 

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Wonderful.” 

You breathed a sigh of relief that you were no longer the object of his temper, and instead back in his good graces. 

As you fell asleep that night you pondered on what he revealed to you in that conversation. You were giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting proof of your silent protector. 

———————-

“I wish to tell you something,” you said to Lord Lannister as he sat with you in the castle gardens. 

“Do tell,” he said and his eyes danced with amusement. 

“When my mother passed away she promised she would send me an angel to care for me and watch over me.” 

“What a beautiful promise,” he said, clearly placating you. 

You sighed. 

“Yes, and her words came true. There is an angel that protects me,” you said. 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“That must be a comforting thought,” he said and patted your hand as if you were a child. 

“No, not just a comforting thought, there is a presence that protects me from those that wish me harm,” you said urgently. 

“Is that why so many of your suitors have disappeared? I have heard rumors of you being cursed, but I have never been afraid of silly superstitions. I also heard ridiculous gossip of ghosts and recluse princes when I came here, there is no need to put stock in such things.” 

You furrowed your brow. 

“No, there is-“

“Lord Stark!” the Lannister man exclaimed as he saw his friend across the gardens. 

You sighed in frustration as you watched him stand and bound towards Lord Stark and embrace him. 

The two began speaking and you were quickly forgotten. 

The topic was never raised with him again. 

———————-

Your nerves were high as your lady’s maid dressed you for the masquerade ball. 

Feasts, parties, and balls were all commonplace during this time of year in which lords and ladies often courted and marriage alliances were made. 

Though, a masquerade ball was a first. You were excited. You found the whole idea rather romantic. 

“Are you certain about this dress?” you asked Reyna. 

“Of course, my lady! You look absolutely beautiful. The men will fall at your feet,” she said with a sweet smile. 

You really only cared about impressing your phantom and you hoped against hope that tonight would be the night you finally got the proof he spoke of. 

You smoothed the front of your emerald green dress as she brought you the delicate black lace mask. 

You pulled it on carefully and Reyna made a few small adjustments before she declared you perfect. 

You thanked her and with a grin you made your way towards the great hall. 

The moment you entered, you were enchanted. Musicians played ethereally beautiful songs and as you strode through the hall you were fascinated by people’s outfits and masks that bordered on costumes. 

Elaborate decorations made the room appear to sparkle and shimmer. 

A servant handed you a glass of wine and you sipped on it as you made your way through the bustling crowd. 

Soon, however, the dancing began and you smiled happily as you watched the men and women twirl. 

A man approached you and asked you to dance, you grinned as you accepted, and quickly determined him to be Lord Greyjoy. 

Though he was not your favorite lord, the music was quick paced, as were your steps and you were happy to join the merriment, no matter the company. It was not as if he could speak much to you anyhow as the dance was quick paced and required a switching of partners frequently. 

Man after man danced with you and your smile was as wide as the stretch of the sea. 

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, like a heavy gaze was upon you, but as you looked around you could see nothing but strangers in masks. 

At the end of the last fast song you were spun by Lord Lannister and another man caught you. 

The crowd clapped as the song ended and as you caught your breath you looked up at the man who held you. 

You did not recognize the face of the handsome stranger who smirked down at you, so why was there something about him that felt so achingly familiar? 

He wore all black, with the intricate embellishments on the cloth a dark green, the exact shade as your dress. 

His hair, a shocking silvery white color, was straight and pulled half back as it cascaded down his back and across his chest. It was much longer than most men keep their hair, and it was beautiful. 

The left half of his face was completely covered with an intimidating black mask that appeared to have a sapphire within it rather than a hole for the eye to see through. 

The right side of his face was bare and you marveled at the handsomeness of the sharp planes of his nose, cheekbones, jaw, and chin. 

His visible eye was a startling yet otherworldly gorgeous violet color. 

His smirking lips were plush and naturally curved upwards. 

You had never seen such unique beauty in a man. 

You were certain your expression was wonderstruck as you stared up at him. 

The next song began, a much slower melody, and he held you close to his warm body as he swayed you both to the beat of it. 

“I do not believe we have met,” you said primly as you attempted to muster up your wits. 

He smiled at you before he spun you. 

He caught you and pressed your back to his front. As he leaned down, his hair fell across your shoulder and his lips grazed your ear. 

You shivered in response as your eyes fluttered closed. 

His large hands spanned much of your waist and you covered his hands with your own, wishing to keep him close. 

“Are you certain of that?” he whispered in your ear. 

Your spine went rod straight, the hairs on the back of your neck stood, and you sucked in a gasping breath as you recognized the voice of the man that held you. 

He chuckled darkly, that laugh that you often heard in your dreams.

“I am not certain of much of anything anymore,” you breathed out. 

“Not even of my promises?” he teased as one hand moved further down your waist and the other up high enough that his thumb grazed the bottom of your breasts. 

Your breath hitched even as your eyes drifted closed once more and your head fell back against his shoulder. 

“You are the only thing I believe in anymore,” you murmured. 

“Hm,” he hummed in satisfaction at your words. 

One hand gripped your waist and the other slipped up your arm, across your collar bones to rest gently around your throat, as if his hand were another necklace to adorn you. 

“You are most beautiful this night, my sweet,” he purred. 

You breathed in his warm masculine scent and wished to stay in his arms forever. 

He spun you back around to face him and he caught you with hands around the small of your waist and your hands found their place on his chest. 

“You…you are much more handsome than all my wildest dreams. Why would you hide this face from me?” 

You could not look away from his gaze, it was as if he had a power to trap you with him, though you would never desire to escape him. 

You placed your hand on his cheek and did not miss the way it made him suck in a breath, as if he were just as affected by you as you were by him. 

You did not know how many songs had passed since you were in his arms, but you never wanted the music to end for fear of no longer being pressed against him. 

The entire room melted away and there was only you and your phantom made flesh as he danced with you to music of your own making. 

“There are things you do not know of, that I have made efforts to protect you from,” he answered you finally. 

You furrowed your brow in confusion and as you looked away, you realized it was the first time you had looked away from his face since he took you into his arms. 

You hadn’t realized that multiple songs had come and go and still he held you. You hadn’t realized that most of the eyes in the room were on you, curiously watching you and the mysterious man. 

“I have proof now of your existence. Tell me everything, or do you not wish to make me yours?” you asked as you looked back at him. 

He pursed his lips as he stared deep into your soul. 

“Of course I wish to make you mine,” he breathed out. 

He sounded just as entranced by you as you were with him. 

You reached up and softly grazed your fingers against his sharp cheekbone. 

“Then show me all of you, my phantom,” you whispered as your fingers curled around the edge of his mask. 

So enraptured by your touch and your presence it took him a moment longer than it should have to react and you had nearly removed the mask from his face and saw a flash of a jagged scar before he yanked himself back from you. 

He pulled the mask from your hand and covered the side of his face once again as he stepped back, his chest heaving with desperate breaths. 

You stumbled backwards from the momentum of his sudden movements, and strong hands from behind caught you and with a glance back you realized it was Lord Lannister. 

Your breathing was also heavy as you turned back and gazed upon the object of your affections in shock. 

Regret flashed in his eye, but he turned and quicker than you could think of anything to say, he disappeared into the large crowd and was soon gone. 

He was gone as quickly as he appeared and your eyes stung at the near rejection. 

“Are you alright?” Lord Lannister asked you and you realized his hands were still around your shoulders where he had caught you. 

“Yes, quite,” you said and the shakiness in your voice did nothing to assure either of you of the statement’s truthfulness. 

As your attention once again found the room around you, you then heard the hisses of angry whispers of the people around you. 

“Monster.” 

“Did you see that horrid scar?” 

“Why would she let him touch her?” 

“Disgusting.” 

“His eye….” 

“Recluse prince.” 

“Aemond Targaryen,” one man said and you whipped your head around to him. 

“What did you say?” you demanded. 

“My lady, that must have been Aemond Targaryen, the recluse prince. Only the gods know what would have caused him to slither out from his hiding place,” the old man said worriedly. 

You huffed and turned to leave. 

“Perhaps I should accompany you to your room to ensure you arrive there safely,” Lord Lannister offered. 

You nodded absentmindedly and took his proffered arm. 

As you exited the hall you let out a sigh of relief to be away from such a crowd of hateful and discontented Lords and Ladies. 

“I fear you put yourself in danger by dancing with such a man, my lady,” Lord Lannister finally said after he gave you several moments of quiet to collect yourself. 

“He meant me no harm,” you said softly. 

“You know nothing of his intentions,” the man said. 

Finally you reached your door. 

“Thank you, Lord Lannister, I appreciate your help and concern,” you said in an attempt to dismiss him. 

He nodded, and he clearly understood your message. 

“Goodnight, my lady,” he said. 

“Goodnight, my lord,” you replied and turned and walked into your room. 

You shut the door securely behind you before you slid to the floor and released the tears you had been holding back.  

You could no longer withhold the torrent of mixed emotions you felt that so overwhelmed you. 

You heard nothing from your ghost that night and as you fell into a fitful sleep, nightmares plagued you. 

You dreamt of a demon that chased you and all you could see of it were two sapphire colored eyes that glowed in the depth of darkness you were lost in. 

———————-

Your phantom did not find you for the next two days and despite being surrounded by people often, most frequently suitors who wished to woo you, you found yourself incredibly lonely. 

Each night when you entered your room you called out for him but only silence greeted you. 

By the third day you resolved yourself to try and move on. It was easier said than done. 

Now that you had actually met the man that belonged to the voice you idolized, it was much harder to prevent yourself from loving him.

It was as if he was in your head, had burrowed himself in your heart, captured your soul and held it in the palm of his hands. 

How were you supposed to just let go? 

You pondered on all these things as you attempted to relax in the bath in your chambers. 

Your father was pressuring you to make a decision soon. You were lucky that he even allowed you a say in who you would marry, though you knew he was partial to Lord Lannister. Thankfully, he agreed with your assessment that Lord Greyjoy was an absolute bore. 

He was not present at the masquerade when you danced with your phantom, but he had surely heard the gossip by now. 

It would not bode well for you. 

You wished to hear your ghost’s voice so desperately you feared you were hallucinating the sound. 

But there it was again, your name, said with such gentleness and care. 

“Are you really there?” you asked hopefully. 

“Yes, my sweet,” he said after a moment too long of silence. 

You sighed in relief. 

“I have missed you,” you said. 

“Truthfully?” he asked and there was vulnerability in his voice. 

“Of course,” you said passionately. 

He did not reply and you grew concerned he did not believe you. 

You were suddenly grateful for the suds and bubbles in the bathtub for fear he could see you. It was something you had never been self conscious about before, but now that you had seen the handsome man himself and knew he was real, you were more worried about what he had seen. 

Even still, you said, “Please do not hide from me any longer, I wish to see you when you speak to me.” 

“Why would you wish to see a monster?” he asked harshly. 

Your eyes prickled with tears at his pain. 

“I do not believe people’s words that you are a monster. You, who has protected me at every turn, are a good man,” you said gently. 

The oversized portrait beside your bed creaked and opened as if it were a door. 

You gasped as your phantom stood in the darkened entryway. 

A mask still adorned half his face, though this time it was white and interestingly there was still a sapphire embedded in it where his eye should be. 

You sunk lower into the bath and gripped its edges as you stared back at him. 

“You cannot believe that about a creature of such darkness,” he said. 

“I do. I rather like the dark,” you said and a small smirk showed on his beautiful lips. 

“Come closer,” you said as you reached your hand out to him. 

He walked slowly over to you and knelt next to the bathtub. 

You placed your hand gently on the side of his face and his eye fluttered closed while he took a shaky breath. 

“Your name,” you said, your voice soft and tentative. “Is it Aemond as some have speculated?” 

He made a pleased sound low in his throat as he nuzzled his face into your hand. 

He ran his nose across your palm and the veins at your wrist. 

Your heartbeat spiked. 

“You have no idea how long I have yearned to hear my name fall from your perfect lips, my sweet,” he murmured. 

Your breathing was heavy as you looked at your phantom, your angel, your Aemond. 

“Aemond, I apologize for attempting to unmask you in front of a room full of people. Truthfully, I forgot we were not the only two people in the world,” you said gently as your fingers traced his cheek and lips and soaked in the warmth of his skin. 

“Hm,” he hummed in pleasure. 

“Will you bare yourself to me now?” you asked. 

You wanted to add that it was only fair as you were currently mostly bare in front of him. 

Though the bath was a milky color from the soaps and scents, and suds still covered the surface, you were certain his all knowing eye could see much of your glistening wet skin. 

His eye blinked open and he looked at you, his gaze raw and full of emotion. 

The sound of knuckles rapping at your door broke your focus from him. 

“My lady?” your lady’s maid called out. 

You looked across the room to your door. 

He quickly stood and disappeared behind the portrait door once again without another word, as if he truly were a ghost. 

You sighed in frustration before you called out, “Yes? Come in.” 

“My lady, I forgot to bring you your fresh bed sheets, I am so sorry! I will only be a moment,” she said as she rushed to your bed. 

“It is quite alright, Reyna,” you reassured as her anxieties often became too high. 

She smiled at you and quickly started her task. 

You sunk lower into the now cold bath and cursed your rotten luck. 

———————-

Your father ran out of patience and betrothed you to Lord Lannister. 

You sat at the celebratory feast and tried not to look too sullen. 

When the queen congratulated you, you flinched slightly, now that you knew it was her son you were so desperately in love with you felt even more guilty. 

You worried the news would break him. 

Even still, you did your best to be graceful and poised as many people offered you their excitement on your happy news. 

You didn’t mind Lord Lannister, truthfully, but he did not bewitch your very soul as Aemond Targaryen did. 

There was a commotion that caught your attention, a fire had started in the opposite end of the grand hall. 

You gasped and watched as the men rushed to put it out. 

A hand grasped your wrist and began to tug you backwards. 

Your eyes widened in surprise as your phantom pulled you into the nearby darkened hallway. 

A mask still covered half his face and his expression was hard. 

He pressed your back against the cold stone wall with the weight of his body against yours. 

Your breath sped and your heartbeat spiked. 

Not from fear, no, from the feel of the long planes of his warm body against yours. 

He placed a hand against the wall on either side of your head and caged you in. 

“Do you wish to marry him?” he asked. 

“No,” you breathed out, your focus again on his lips as he spoke. 

He leaned down so his lips grazed your ear and asked, “What do you desire?” 

You shivered. 

“You,” you practically moaned as your eyes closed. 

He hauled his body off yours and you whimpered softly at the loss of his warmth. 

He smirked. 

“Then wait for me, I shall come for you, my sweet. I promise,” he said and you quickly nodded in agreement. 

He turned his head to look back down the hallway at the great hall. 

His hair swished as he moved and you longed to run your fingers through the white silken strands. 

“They have most likely put out the fire by now. Go before you are missed,” he said. 

“Alright,” you said, and before you tore yourself away from him you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

He hummed in pleasure and you attempted to memorize the sound, beautiful as it was, just like everything about him. 

When you reentered the great hall, the chaos was settling and no one had noticed your brief absence, not even your betrothed. 

———————-

Most afternoons you could be found in your favorite secluded corner of the library. 

Unfortunately, your betrothed knew that and often interrupted your reading. 

Today however, you were blissfully alone as you reread your favorite book. 

Sunlight filtered through the nearby window and bathed you and your novel in a warm glow. 

A cup of tea and a little snack were long forgotten as the plot enraptured you and you curled up into a plush armchair. 

A whisper of your name slid through the contented air and alerted you to the presence of another. 

“Aemond?” you whispered back. 

“Come with me,” he crooned. 

You turned and saw him. He had revealed another secret hallway, this time hidden by a bookshelf. 

His beauty was otherworldly and you felt as if you were in a trance as you set your book down, stood, and walked towards him. 

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into the dark and watched as he shut the bookshelf door behind you.  

He lifted a torch off the stone wall and held it before the both of you, though you suspected it was only for your benefit. 

“Where are we going?” you asked. 

The thought occurred to you that you should have asked before you followed him, but logic was never your strong suit when it came to decisions about your phantom. 

You could never resist his pull. 

“To show you more of myself,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

You walked through winding corridors until he stopped at another portrait-door. Though, this time your view of it was from the inside. 

He opened it, stepped down himself, and then with hands on your waist, helped you navigate the large step down. 

Though, he stood so close that your body practically slid down the length of his as you did so. 

With your hands on his strong shoulders you stared at him. 

His gaze flickered down to your lips and for a moment, an excruciating wonderful moment, you thought he might kiss you. 

But he released you and took a step back, his breaths as rapid as your own. 

With him not right in front of you, you could see the room you stood in. 

It was dark, the dark curtains drawn completely so as to not allow any light within. 

Candelabras adorned the furniture to offer the light your eyes so desperately needed. 

It was also clearly the room of a prince, grand and ornately decorated. 

Black and emerald green silk covered the large canopy bed. 

The other decorations matched his chosen colors. 

You slipped from his hands and walked around the room, your fingers traced the surfaces as you took it all in. 

It was all so Aemond. But there were pieces of you as well. 

A vase full of your favorite flowers. Stacks of your favorite novels were on both his bedside table and his desk. They were mixed with books you did not recognize, ones that must be his favorites. 

Crumpled papers took up space on the desk, with your name scrawled at the top of the one on a stack of blank papers, as if he had been trying to write you a letter.

There was an easel with paint supplies in front of the window, finished paintings leaned against the wall, turned around so you could not see them. 

The painting drying on the easel, however, was of you. You gasped softly. 

It was a romantic view of you in the bath as you had been the other night, and there was such love and tenderness in your face as you looked at the viewer of the portrait, the painter of the portrait, truthfully. 

There was a halo of light around your body, every stretch of your skin that was visible had a brightness about it, the more intimate parts of your body covered by the water in the bath.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you realized this is how he viewed you. An angel, just the same as you perceived him. 

He was your angel of darkness and you were his angel of light. 

“Oh Aemond,” you breathed out. 

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that many of the completed paintings you could not see were of you as well. 

You knew the reality of what you saw, this was not just love, it was obsession. 

Logically, you should be scared, but you could not bring yourself to be anything but flattered. 

There was a mirror in the corner, but it was covered by black cloth as if he did not wish to see himself, your heart cracked at the thought.

He had been watching you warily as you explored his space and learned more about him. 

“I want you to know the reality of what you would be getting into if you choose me, my sweet. A life of darkness with someone most consider a monster,” he said as he leaned against the wall and looked down at the floor. 

You strode towards him and placed a hand on his cheek and led him to look at you. 

“That is your version of reality? In my reality I see a kindhearted man who cares for me deeply and is offering me a life of affection. I do not care for others' opinions and would like to help you heal from the hurt they have inflicted,” you said quietly and tenderly. 

He breathed out in surprise and brought you closer, so you were pressed against him. 

“You say such kind words but you have not seen all of me, you do not know why others fear me. There is more darkness to me than you know,” he said lowly, but still he moved his face closer and nudged his nose against yours. 

“Then show me,” you begged once again, “and let me accept you completely.” 

His lips were so close to yours that you could almost feel them. 

You ached for him, had ached for him for so long, that you lost yourself, your self control, and leaned up to brush your lips against his. 

But, he pulled back right before your lips were able to meet. 

You let out a shuddering breath, same as he did as he pulled his face back enough to look at you. 

He intertwined his fingers with yours and lifted your hand to the mask he wore. 

With a slight nod he gave you permission to remove it from his face but still said, “Are you certain? This would bring you past the point of no return.” 

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” you said fervently as you stared at him with your heart in your throat. 

He swallowed and dropped his hand from yours to let you finally take off the mask. 

You gently curled your fingers around the edges and his eye fluttered closed, another indication of his nervousness, as if he could not handle seeing your expression once you saw him. 

You slowly pulled it off and revealed the other half of his face. 

A long jagged scar stretched from above his eye down across his cheek. 

Instead of a left eye, there was a sapphire in place of where his eye should be. 

You realized you were mistaken before when you thought that the mask held the sapphire, it was in fact a replacement to the eye that was missing. 

Though the scar marred his skin, it did not take away from his handsomeness. You could understand how the scar and sapphire eye could intimidate others, but you could not understand how anyone could describe him as a monster. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured as you cupped his cheek and ran your thumb across the scar. 

His eye fluttered open and as he looked at you, his perfect lips parted in shock. You knew he felt that the disfigurement was a reflection of his soul and expected rejection. Though he had subjected himself to the potential rejection anyway, because of his feelings for you. 

“You cannot mean that,” he said and the words broke your heart. 

You kissed his cheek, his scar, right below the sapphire eye and he gasped softly. 

“My phantom, my protector, my Aemond,” you said as you trailed your lips across his cheek, across the length of the scar. 

“I absolutely mean it,” you said passionately and he groaned as he, at long last, pressed his lips to yours. 

His plush lips were soft as he pressed them firmly against yours. 

He made a low pleased hum as your lips moved against his and you tangled your fingers in his hair. 

It was not the sort of kiss that sparked a fiery passion, no, it was slower moving than that, deeper. The kind of kiss that changed the both of you intricately, completely, eternally. 

The kiss molted the love within you and him like lava and fuzed your souls together. 

When you pulled back and ended the kiss he said, “I love you, completely, my angel of light.” 

“And I love you, darkness and all,” you replied and kissed him once more. 

———————-

The day of your wedding to Lord Lannister had arrived and you were a bundle of nerves. 

Aemond had sworn to you that you would not have to go through with this wedding. He assured you that he would make you his and his alone. 

You believed him, you just did not realize that he would wait until the last minute to do so. 

Your lady’s maid Reyna cinched up your wedding gown as you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

Your expression was sullen and you felt as if you were being readied for your funeral. 

Aemond would intervene as he promised, right? 

You had tried to talk to your father, to make him understand where your feelings lay, what your heart desired, but he refused to listen. 

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Reyna said as she finished prepping you and stepped back to view her work. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. 

“What is wrong?” she asked as she took your hands. 

You shook your head and refused to let your eyes fill with tears. 

You must believe in your phantom’s promise, he had protected you at every turn and you had to believe him that he would do so now. 

“Lord Lannister seems kind,” Reyna said gently. 

You nodded. 

“Yes. Yes he does,” you agreed as you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. 

Your father arrived and escorted you to the sept. 

The sept was grand as always, and as it was sunset, lit completely with hundreds of candles. 

A large crowd of lords and ladies filled the room and watched you as you walked towards a future of shackles. 

Your heart plummeted as you saw Lord Lannister there waiting for you. 

He smiled at you as your father walked you towards him, escorted you towards a loveless life. You could not force yourself to smile back. Your breath was short and it felt as if there was a weight on your chest. Your legs shook as you walked and finally you stood before Lord Lannister and the septon. 

The Septon cleared his throat and the crowd’s murmurs and whispers hushed and it was suddenly all too quiet. 

You could hear the pounding of your own heart. 

The septon opened his mouth to speak, to begin the ceremony, when another booming voice filled the sept. 

“I object to this marriage. This woman is spoken for. She belongs to me,” the voice of your ghost echoed through the room, through your very soul. 

You gasped in relief. 

The sept doors blew open by an unexpected and terrifying gust of wind that blew out all the candles and thrust the grand room into darkness. 

There were gasps of horror and shock as well as screams in fear. 

You grinned. 

“This wedding is over,” the voice announced and you whipped your head around as you realized where the origin of the sound was. 

The phantom of the Red Keep stood behind the Septon. 

A fire suddenly lit behind him, illuminating him, and another round of gasps and screams began. 

Aemond stood, presence intense and intimidating, dressed all in black. He wore nothing to cover his scar and sapphire eye. 

Your body moved of its own accord and you managed to take one step towards him, when an arm gripped you around your waist and hauled you backwards. 

Lord Lannister shoved you behind him and pulled out his sword. 

He pointed it at Aemond. You lurched forward, but he held you back with his arm. 

Aemond quickly pulled out his own sword. 

The septon scrambled away. 

Guards began to stream into the sept, but the fire spread, as if controlled, and circled around the three of you, and kept everyone away. 

“You have no claim on this woman! She is my betrothed!” Lord Lannister yelled. 

Aemond smirked, a devilish sort of smile. 

“That is certainly not true, is it, my sweet? I have a strong claim on you, do I not?” Aemond asked you as he leaned to the side to meet your eyes around his enemy’s body. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, entranced by his presence. 

Lord Lannister whipped his head around to look at you in shock. 

“He is a monster. Let me save you from him. I am your chosen hero, remember?” he said fervently. 

You shook your head. 

“He is my protector, I tried to tell you this before. My heart belongs to him,” you replied. 

“No,” he said angrily and shook his head. 

“No,” he repeated himself, “you will not whore yourself out to this vile demon. You are my betrothed.” 

He attacked your love. You gasped as they crossed swords and the sound of clanging steel echoed. 

You stepped back, as close as you could get to the edge of the circle of fire without burning yourself, and did not know what to do. 

Others watched the fight through the fire, helpless to assist, and did nothing but spectate. 

The men fought and it was clear that despite Aemond’s missing eye, he was the superior skilled swordfighter. 

You felt powerless to help. The fight did not last long, for Aemond soon sliced a shallow cut across Lord Lannister’s chest and then disarmed him. 

He held the tip of his sword to his opponent’s throat as he breathed heavily and gritted his teeth. Hate gleamed in his one good eye and you knew your betrothed represented all the hate and suffering Aemond had endured since his eye was so savagely taken. 

“Stop,” you gasped. 

He turned his head to meet your gaze and the look in his eye softened. 

“You do not have to kill him,” you said, “just take me. Let us be together. Let us leave this place behind.” 

He pursed his lips, a war fought inside his mind, before he nodded and removed his sword from Lord Lannister’s throat even as he kicked the other sword away so it would be completely out of reach. 

You ran to him and threw yourself in his arms. 

He kept his sword pointed at your former betrothed, but hugged you back with his other arm. 

Lord Lannister held up his hands and nodded, conceding and admitting his defeat. 

Aemond turned his head and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I want it to be known here and now that this woman did choose me willingly. Though I know you will indeed ignore my words, there need be no monster hunt, she and I wish to leave peacefully,” Aemond announced. 

The crowd stared in shock as you pulled his face down for a passionate kiss. 

Your love raged like the fire that surrounded you. 

He was yours and you were his. 

“Take me,” you begged him as your lips broke apart. 

The last thing you saw was the uptilt of his lips into a smirk before the room was plunged into darkness and then there was only the sensation of falling. 

You splashed into deep water and strong hands pulled you up. 

“We must hurry,” your lover said as he helped you swim. 

You looked up and as the ceiling closed above you, you could see that the entire sept seemed to have lit up in flames once more. 

He led you to the edge of the canal and hauled you up out of the water. 

He lit a torch he found on the wall and you could finally see. 

“It will take them some time to put out the fire, but they will follow us as soon as they can,” Aemond said to you in a hushed and hurried tone as he helped you step into a small boat that floated upon the water. He handed you the torch and you held it as you took your seat and settled. 

He soon followed and took the oars and rowed as quickly and powerfully as he could, his strength evident in the action. 

He navigated the canals effectively and knew which turns to take in the winding and confusing darkness. 

You stared at him as he did so and admired your phantom in the flickering light. 

His hair was wet, his lips set in a hard and determined line, and the sapphire glimmered and gleamed. 

You loved him, you wanted him, you were joyously happy he had saved you from a life you despised. 

You smiled. 

His gaze flickered to yours and he raised an eyebrow at you. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“I love you,” you said quietly but strongly. 

He smiled. A real, full smile, not a smirk or a half smile, a real full smile in which his lips stretched and you could see his teeth. 

“And I love you, my sweet,” he eventually replied, the moment heavy with emotion. 

“Thank you, for protecting me, my guardian angel,” you whispered. 

He shook his head.

“Thank me when we are actually safe in our destination,” he said. 

“Where is our destination?” you asked. You did not truly care about the answer, anywhere safe with him was perfect to you. 

“There is an estate in the countryside owned by the Hightowers, my mother’s family, that has been gifted to us by my mother. Some sort of recompense for all I have endured from my father’s family, I suppose. We shall have to pretend to be Hightowers and it will be a simpler life than you are used to in King’s Landing, but it will be safe and I will protect you. I hope you find that suitable,” he said softly. 

“Of course,” you said, “a life with you is all I desire.”

He smiled once more and it was your favorite sight in all the world. 

“Good, I have arranged for a septon to be waiting there to wed us. If all goes well it will only be a few days' journey and then you will well and truly be my wife.”

You grinned and placed your hand on his knee as he continued to row. It took all your self control not to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until neither of you could breathe anymore. 

“I could not imagine anything more perfect, my love,” you replied.

The canals eventually deposited the two of you into the entrance of a river on the outskirts of the city. 

Aemond climbed out of the boat and quickly helped you do the same. 

Thankful for the cover of darkness, he snuck you to a stable where two horses awaited you both. 

He pulled clothes out of the packed saddle bags and handed you a bundle. 

“Can you help me?” you asked as you turned your back to him. 

You heard a shuddering breath. 

“Of course,” he said and began to unlace your wedding dress. He slowly pulled at the laces, and his fingers brushed your skin as he did so. You shivered, and you were not certain if it was from the cold air or desire for the ghost that stood behind you. 

You slipped out of it and turned back to face him. 

His gaze was dark and intense once again. 

Your heartbeat stuttered. 

Then you heard distant shouting, you were still being pursued. 

“We must hurry,” he urged. 

You swallowed your disappointment and nodded even as you began to remove the rest of your clothes. 

He walked to the other side of the horses, to hide you from his view, and allowed you to finish changing. 

You pulled on the new clothes, and realized he had picked out peasant clothes a man would wear, most likely to make you both as inconspicuous as possible. 

You pulled on the fresh underclothes, the trousers and boots, and then the loose white shirt. 

He rounded the horses, already fully changed with an eyepatch over his sapphire eye. 

Your breath caught as he knelt before you and began to tie the laces of your boots. 

You bit your lip as you watched him. 

His nimble fingers moved quickly as he laced both shoes then stood to his full height before you. 

He then laced up the front of your shirt, to hide your breasts, and his hands grazed them as he did so. 

Your breathing was heavy as you watched him. 

He nodded in satisfaction with his work then pulled two cloaks out of the saddle bags as well. 

He pulled his cloak on and then helped you with yours. 

Your hands caught his and you could not help yourself. 

“Kiss me,” you breathed out. 

He huffed in amusement before he pulled you in for a brief but firm kiss. 

“Aemond, please,” you begged as he pulled back. 

He gripped your waist and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I will make you mine and give you everything you desire, my love,” he promised, “but you must exercise patience. We need to hurry, our lives are still at stake.” 

You sighed and nodded. 

He pulled your hood over your head and then tied his hair back and did the same. 

With strong hands on your waist he helped you climb atop your horse and then mounted his own. 

With the click of his tongue, he urged his horse forward and you followed his lead. 

Soon, both your horses were galloping and you left the horror of King’s Landing far behind. 

You journeyed into the darkness, but felt assured that there was light at the end of your travels for your phantom was there with you, and you would be together, forever, as you both desired, as was right. 

You loved the man, the ghost, the so-called monster beside you. You loved your protector, the man who had maimed and killed for you, who guided you through the deepest darkness. 

He was your angel, your salvation, the rest of your life. 

He was yours and you were his, forever. 

All was finally right in the world.

[foreststranger]

DAN FENG - Tethering The Sky and Reaching For Heaven

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』dan feng/imbibitor lunae/yinyue jun (ugh can he stop having so many names??? it makes tagging a complete nightmare) x gn!reader

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ parting ways with silly dragon guy before he reincarnates and dies idk idgaf abt his backstory 👍👍👍

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.0k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ surprise!!!! yet another short fanfic abt a long haired man! anyways happy early 1.3! i wish everyone a very e6 lynx and good luck on whoever you’re pulling for. ALSO HOW TF DO YOU DO CHINESE DIMINUTIVES/HONOURIFICS IN X READER FICS??? 阿Y/N???? OR MAYBE IN PINYIN??? a’y/n or ah’y/n??? OR WOULD IT BE LIKE 阿[the first character of your name] LMFAO

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving?’ Where are you going?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying in vain to figure him out.

“We won’t see each other again. I’ve… done something horrible.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“…It’s not our main concern as of now. I’m sure my punishment will come for me soon. I don’t know how much time I have left with you.”

“Okay, what’s going on? I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ll understand soon. I’d just like to spend one final moment with you.” Dan Feng grabs ahold of your hands, his grip almost painful as his fingers lock with yours.

“Are you… You don’t love me anymore?” A thousand thoughts rush through your head, yet none of them makes sense. “Do you want to see other people?”

“No, no, no. Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I meant that…” He pauses, concentrating. “We don’t have much time left.”

“But what does that-“

“Forget it. Would you just follow me, 心肝? Humour me. Please.” Your eyebrows furrow at the odd hypocorism. Before you can answer him, Dan Feng is leading you towards the dock. Bright yellow ginkgo leaves drift down from the sky, signalling a change in the year as they fall. There’s a scent in the early autumn air, and it reeks of… gloom; fraught with melancholy and a lingering anxiety that seems to cling to you. It whispers into your ear sweet serenades, singing a cacophony of incoming danger. The signal of change grows to a warning.

“Why are we heading towards the water?”

“Please, 亲爱的. Do not question me right now. Just… let us have a simple conversation. Would that be alright?” He sighs as the two of you exit the main area of the Alchemy Commission.

“I guess… You’re acting weird, you know that?” you sigh. “How was your day?”

“Great. And yours?” He answers a little too quickly.

“It’d be better if I knew what was happening.” Dan Feng turns his head to look back at you, a million words he wants to say are hidden behind his watery eyes.

Your shoe gets stuck in a crack in the stone walkway as you’re busy staring at him. You stop to pull it out but Dan Feng yanks on you, your shoe slipping off of your foot as he continues walking.

“Hey, wait! 枫仔! My shoe!” He doesn’t let go, his hand shaking in yours with a sense of urgency. “How am I supposed to walk without it?” You hop on a single foot, trying to keep up with his pace. In response, he picks you up into a bridal carry, cradling you like a parent would for their child.

“O-oh. Uh… okay. I guess I don’t mind…” You look up at his trembling jaw. Whatever’s going on, it must be very important to Dan Feng. If only he’d spit it out already so that you could offer your comfort. But the most you can offer right now is a small kiss. You bring your head up, pressing your lips against his cheek before resting your head back down on his forearm. The display of affection causes Dan Feng to stop in his tracks, but he quickly starts walking again.

“I...” He clears his throat, a light blush blossoming on his face. “That… means a lot to me right now. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could offer you, 枫仔. You look so sad… Tell me what’s wrong.” He looks towards the horizon and the setting sun, a forlorn expression painting his face. The shadows of the evening light leave him looking especially somber. For a moment, he wants to tell you the whole truth. But he holds himself back to spare your feelings.

“I’m going somewhere. And… I won’t be returning. I am sorry, [name]. Truly. I do not wish to part ways but…” He looks down at you. A tear drips off of his face and onto yours. “There is nothing to be done about it. I… wouldn’t have done it if I realized the consequences sooner.”

“You’re… not joking. Would you tell me where you’re going? And when? Why are you being so vague?” You still couldn’t grasp the concept.

“亲爱的，you would hate me if I told you the whole truth. I could not leave knowing that you despised me. But… I’m sure you’ll find out soon when the news gets out.” Dan Feng looks back up towards the sky. You follow his gaze towards a few clouds that are coloured a hue of red from the sunset.

“I love you dearly. I apologize… I have forgone our future and forsaken you. Please remember me as someone you loved, and not a traitor to the Luofu.”

“Er… okay…? You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, I am afraid so…”

“…I love you too. Wherever you’re going, don’t forget that, okay? I… I really can’t believe it. I’m not gonna see you again. Ever…? Will you come visit me?”

“That is not possible, I fear. Though I wish more than anything that I could.”

The two of you reach the harbour. Dan Feng sets you down on the wooden planks and takes a seat beside you, dipping his legs into the water.

“Your pants are gonna be soaked, 笨蛋!”

“I am aware of that fact.” He pays you no mind, looking on into the horizon again. You gently hold is hand in yours.

“This… this is it? The last time I’ll see you? And we’re just… staring at nothing in complete silence?”

“You are speaking right now, [name].”

“What did you even do?” He glances at you. But as you make eye contact, he can’t seem to look away.

“…What are you doing?”

“You ask so many questions, 亲亲. I prefer it when you’re asleep. You’re much cuter in bed, too.” Dan Feng lightens up a little, a smile on his face as he teases you. “I’m just…” He shakes his head, as if to get himself out of a daze. “I’m just trying to remember your face. I need to make sure I don’t forget it…” His expression returns to how it was before, desolate and heartbroken.

“Make me a promise, 亲亲.”

“Go on.”

“We will meet in my next lifetime. And… we will live out a future that we could not have in this one.” He holds out his pinky finger and you take it.

“Sounds nice. I’ll hold you to it, Dan Feng.”

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

[toadslug]

Sapphires: Chapter 1

A fanfic/AU/whatever you want to call it I'm going to explore with Orca's statue! I've never really done writing like this before, so we'll see how this goes. Might try out websites like AO3 to host this on??? But I'm sticking to what I know right now. Anyways!! Here's what I've got so far.

"She was so young..."

The heavy stone doors of the Royal Hatchery scraped open. The grating noise was by design, ensuring intruders could not sneak in.

Dim blue light traced the silhouettes of two dragons at the entrance.

"I don't know why she didn't wait a couple more years." One of the dragons conveyed through flashes and gestures, paddling forward.

"Mm." The other lazily flickered back, straining to shut the doors behind them and sealing the room into inky darkness.

One by one, the dragons lit their bioluminescent patterns. The electric teal glow discovered dips in the floor where clusters of eggs awaited, comfortably tucked into tidy seaweed nests. The shells appeared as a muddied grayish-blue, but under proper lighting, they would have glimmered like droplets of brilliant amber. They were arranged by sex—males on one side of the room, females on the other—in spiral shapes.

"Looks like they're all here." The tired SeaWing gestured, turning to leave.

"Looks like you're begging to get your teeth smashed out." The other gestured back, peeking at each nest and counting the eggs. That was meant to be a joke, but they both knew it was hardly far from reality. The queen was fiercely protective of her eggs. The tired SeaWing grumbled but wearily set to work.

There was a lapse of silence. The chatty SeaWing gave small talk another shot: "... That statue is a lot creepier now, huh." His voice was a little stiff.

The tired SeaWing did not answer.

The coral heating tubes that twisted along the walls quietly bubbled.

Hesitant at first, the chatty SeaWing drifted towards the sculpture at the center of the hatchery. He wasn't sure why.

It had been installed less than a week ago. She had insisted it be placed here.

He brought the light from the banded patterns on his arm up to the statue, squinting at its features. It was regal; imposingly majestic. Masterfully chiseled from empress marble; frighteningly realistic. He angled the light further up, revealing an astute face. Various undersea plants intricately weaved around its curving horns—the webbing that flowed down its spine and wing membrane also followed this design.

And the eyes.

They looked just like her eyes.

He rarely saw her eyes. Partially because none of the royals really bothered with him. But her eyes were always elsewhere. Always focused on her next masterpiece or her mother (though, in hindsight, she had probably been focusing more on the throne her mother sat on); however, the few times her eyes parted, he found himself both intrigued and perturbed by them. They were a divine blue. An enchanting blue that compelled you to unlock their secrets, but a haunting blue that would curse you if you ever found the key. A distant blue, but a blue that lingered with you forever.

Her fathomless ocean filled those sapphire eyes.

"Done checking?" The tired SeaWing flashed, startling the chatty SeaWing. "Almost." He forced himself to quickly regain his composure, though his even face betrayed how unnerved he was all of the sudden. Before resuming his duties, he felt drawn to give the statue one more glance.

His eyes fell to the glittering pedestal it perched on. To the name engraved upon it.

Orca.

Couple of headcanons I worked into this (in case you were confused):

• SeaWings eggs look a little more like fish eggs (round and orange). Since deep water filters colors like red, they appear more blue here.

• SeaWings use sign language along with their bioluminescent scales to communicate.

[drifting-dragons-world]

So I was messing around with the otp prompt generator, and a good LeeCro fanfic prompt got generated:

I will be writing a fanfic on this sometime but the real fanfic idea award goes to my friend @vexel-of-sunbloom

"Why did I have a very specific image of vampire Faye drinking Soraya's blood??? Is it the Halloween spirit???" This. This is what has started the fayeraya vampire au fanfic, and I'm hoping to get it done by Halloween. This is the greatest inspiration for a fanfic ever. Thank you Vexel.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

🐉𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰🐉 (WORK IN PROCESS)

Including warnings, wether they were one-shots or bigger stories and other useful things like when I wrote them and how dark Aemond is in the stories. The list is a work in process so please be patient as I try my best to get it together:)) The princess of Dragonstone is fully published her and on archive.

My one shots are here as well.

The list is devided into older more dark and less polished content and warnings should be headed before clicking on anything of it.

BIGISH STORIES

🐲The princess of dragonstone🐲 Completed.

THE PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE IS COMPLETED AND HAS HER OWN BEAUTIFUL MASTERLIST HERE. DO MIND HER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. THANK YOU.

🐝FIRE AND BLOOD🐝An intense story about two rivial brothers, doomed to always wanting to outshine each other, a civil war, and a noble girl who loses everything caught between them. Aemond x oc, Aegon x oc. Smut, dark smut, sharing, non-con, dub-con, brat-taming, slavexmaster things dom/sub themes and sadism as well as major characters death (but not aemond nor aegon or mc)

Chapter one: Lessons and punishments

Chapter Two: Plans and plots

Chapter Three: First times

Chapter Four: Jealousy

Chapter five: Death and duty

CHAPTER SIX: Punishment

Chapter seven: Aftermath

Chapter eight: Drinking

Chapter Nine: Battubs and compensation

Chapter ten: Pain and pleasure

Chapter eleven: The death of duty

Chapter 12: The death of duty

Chapter 13: That still small voice

Chapter 14: Kinslayer

Chapter 15: Dragons and the bee

Chapter 16: Last fluttering of wings

Chapter 17: The new norma;

Chapter 18: Reunion

Chapter 19: Queen of the Hive

Chapter 20: Fire and blood

Chapter 21 :the dance of two dragons

Chapter 22: a unwilling queen

FUTURE CHAPTERS ARE PLANNED FOR THIS FIC!!

❄️Snow Falls❄️ (x Aemond only) deliciously dark!Aemond, some say the darkest out of them. Aemond Targaryen is looking for allies in the North, for his brother's cause. So, he goes to the second biggest house in the North: House WyldeWoods of WyldeCrest. He takes a interest in the daughter of Lord Wyldewoods, the coy and mysterious lady Willa. She was never mentioned in the books discussing her familiy, and he wonders as to why that is. After Lord WyldeWoods makes some rather anti-Valyrian comments, Aemond takes you prisoner and beheads your family, claiming you as his wife and spoils of war.

CHAPTER ONE: Winter is coming

CHAPTER TWO: FIRSTS

CHAPTER THREE: SNOW DRIFTS

CHAPTER 4: THE PRICE

CHAPTER 5: ESCAPE

CHAPTER 6: THE FOX AND THE DRAGON

CHAPTER 7: THE THING YOU LOVE MOST

CHAPTER 8: THE PRICE OF GOLD

CHAPTER 9: SLAUGHTER OF INNOCENCE

CHAPTER 10: THINGS WE DO IN THE DARK

CHAPTER 11: The North remembers

CHAPTER 12: NIGHTMARES AND DAYDREAMS

CHAPTER 13: THE BURDEN

CHAPTER 14: REBELLION

CHAPTER 15: Fire and Blood

CHAPTER 16: AWAIT OUR TURN

CHAPTER 17: IF THE CARRIAGE IS ROCKING-

CHAPTER 18: READING

CHAPTER 19: KINGS AND QUEENS

CHAPTER 20: LESSONS IN THE BEDROOM

CHAPTER 21: The prince and the fox

Chapter 22:The bathroom

Chapter 23: The library

Chapter 24: The dining room

Chapter 25: Running around in circles

Chapter 26: Attonment

PILLARS OF SALT AND PILLARS OF SAND

Story about Harwins and Rhaenyra's daughter who bends the knee to Aegon to save Luc life. (Aegon central fanfic) Darkish (but aegon is not dark)

Chapter one: Storm's end

Chapter two: Alternatives

Chapter Three: Prisoner

Chapter four: A demented idea

Chapter five: The wrath of a mother

Chapter six: A shadow of a conquerer

Chapter seven: Two princesses, one dreamer

Chapter eight: Of wives and kings

Chapter nine: Those last moments of what we call ''freedom''

Chapter ten: The realms villian

Chapter eleven: One soul, one heart, one flesh

Chapter 12: The house that carried the dragon

Chapter 13: Gods, guts, gifts.

ONE SHOTS

Due to space issues, the one-shots wont be on my archive. You can find them here on tumblr:)

🦌Storm's ends fury 🦌

A short story about Maris Baratheon and her kiss with Aemond Targaryen at Storm's End. (Very short, barely 400)

🦌Fury's Storm, alternative version🦌

A short story very samilair to plot above might be a rewrite i did i cant recall how this ended up on my profile. Bratty Aemond though.

🐧The things we do for love 🐧(Dark!Aemond and Aegon capture daemons lover. Smut and other things) part 2 and now recently part 3

🧀Untiteld genderbend cheese assasin x aemond fanfic🧀 x aemond mostly

🌓The first night x aegon mostly🌓 A story about a girl marrying her love and Aegon and aemond getting upset with her breaking the laws.

🔫the devil made us sin criminal au story about criminal aegon and aemond 🔫

🌖For the night is dark and full of terrors: 🌖Priesteress mc who loves Aegon and her mother wants his throne

🔫The devil made us sin other version 🔫

🔫The devil made us sin gore aemond or aegon snippet🔫

🦌Storm born baratheon x aemond one shot. part 1 and 2 🦌

The maid of the red keep oneshot

Pirate mc one shot

The final devil made us sin and the best one at that part 2 is here

Lion brat part one

Spy queen x prince regent aemond

Aemond x Daemon one shot

GOTXHOTD One shot

ashes burn

The girl in the silver dress

Daddy dearest

Sandstorm

----

Updated on October 22 2023

[justherforfics]

Jessie's girl (hopefully a series)

(A/N) hey i just wanted to say this is the frist time ive ever posted or tried to take a fanfic seriously, so i would like to apologize in advance. this whole fanfiction is based off a dream i have and each chapters respetive song(because ofc each chapter has a song) again i hope you like it. have fun

summary of the series:

jj, john b and you were close friends in grade school, back when you lived on the cut. but when your parents divorce tension rises and you and the pouges drift apart. Now living with your mom on figure 8 and her stupid new husband as they pressure you into law school. will you be able to stand up to your parents? will you rekindle your friendship with the pouges? or do and jj want more? find out on the next episode OF DRAGON BALL-

Warning/ mentions of child abuse, and possible inaccuracies

chapter 1:seven

Although growing up on the cut had its problems, nothing was better than those summers at John B’s house. Back in grade school you and JB became friends fast, as your dad had gone to school together at one point, and back when you were seven, that meant you two were destined to be besties. Not long after JJ joined making the friendship a trio. Almost every day during the summer you would run around the beach covered in salt and sand looking for shiny pebbles and shells, or playing pirates. It was also helpful for your parents, as they used the time you were away as time to “discuss things”. Though you never quite knew what that meant at the time, even if you did it wouldn't matter, as long as you got to hang out with your boys.

Some of those summer nights if you were lucky you could sleep over and watch old scooby doo cartoons and munch on snacks till you pass out. It wasn't until Big John started offering to drop you and JJ at your respective homes did you notice JJ’s home life. You couldn't quite get why, but Mr. Maybanks always seemed to be upset. The first time you figured that he might have stubbed his toe or burnt his toast, that always put you in a grumpy mood. But then when his mood never seemed to change that you thought it was unlikely that he stubbed his toe everyday.

It wasn't until later one evening, sitting at the dock with JJ while JB had gone inside to ask his dad if they could swim again, that it clicked. You were sure you knew why JJ’s dad was always mad or why JJ would have one to two bruises. Why haven't you noticed before!

“Hey j?”

“Yeah” JJ turned to look at you.

“I think your house is haunted” JJ looked at you confused, tilting his head slightly.

“Why, it's not that ugly…is it?” JJ asked nervously

“No! It's just..you dad is always mad, so that must be why.” You respond enthusiastically.” and the scooby gang can’t help him and obviously he doesn't know how to get rid of the ghosts”

JJ sighed and looked down at his lap for a moment contemplating what to say. Then he inhaled with a quick smile before turning back to you.

“Oh? Yeah i  guess that makes sense” he played along.

“Lucky for you i can take care of it”

“Oh really?” he mused, fully turning his body, criss-cross-apple-sause facing you

“Yeah…ok..well not really, but i know how to take care of you” you smiled, turning to face him as well. JJ blushed a bit at the thought before asking

“How are you going to do that?”

“You can live with me!” you answered grinning ear to ear,” I’ll even let you be my first mate on my pirate ship! Just don't tell john b,” 

You put your hand out with a small “deal?”, before he put his hand in yours in conformation.

“ but please don't tell JB, because he thinks he’s the captain still” 

JJ laughed holding his stomach,”i won't”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart”

again i hope you like it hopefully, and i will try to post constantly. Love you guys and stay safe? i guess, i don't know how to end these lol.

[greypetrel]

Fan Work Friday Saturday

Rules: If you're tagged, MAKE A NEW POST and showcase one fanartist or fanfic you recommend (with links), and tag someone to give their recs next! Don't forget to reblog the rec you were tagged in!

Thank you so much for the tag @dreadfutures! Saving the second for later on in the week. Listen I have a hard time choosing and I'll do these on repeat if I must.

Fanartist: @salsedinepicta

Starting with her, purely because it's litterally 10 years of me being 👀 at her art, and I do love the way she mixes pictorical techniques with swirly, 2D lines. I am not a fan of pink+green combination, BUT when she does it. Add a lot of historical references and clothing and an expressive use of colour. I'm an absolute sucker for all artstyles that just looks like three paintstrokes thrown at a paper (digital or traditional) and she does that. And, she's a wonderful human being too, which really helps. <3 (she'd hate the attention but let me Will Smith meme her.)

Fanfic: To The Bone, by @shivunin

Rating: M Words: 48,373 Pairing: Cullen/Inquisitor Lavellan Summary: Depending on who you ask, either Sylaise or Andraste set a mark of fire on those who are destined to find each other. No matter how curious each of them is, neither Lavellan nor Cullen are especially eager to actually go looking for this person. Either luck or fate draws them both to the Inquisition anyway.

I debated high and low what of her fics to start from. I chose To The Bone because it's a soulmate AU. And I generally don't like Soulmates AU. But this one? Mo has a way to turn tropes and clichès around in a way that just makes them relatable, visceral and real. The way she renders human fragility and vulnerability is really heart-clenching. I know I always fangirl over her work but it bears repeating. To the Bone is played more than a Soulmate AU -it is important, but not the main focus, which tricks me into loving this- as a big story of two hurt people who needs to learn to trust someone with their own vulnerability. It's all about learning that you can trust other people, and exactly how scary a decision it is, how much it feels like a jump in the blue.

It's relatable, it's gritty, it's not the peak angst Mo can reach (for that, get a lot of tissues and click on Wander the Drifting Roads.), but it was the first of her works I read and it has a special place in my heart. For its themes, for its main character (can I hug her?) and also and particularly because it's a trope I generally don't like. And I do like to be stand corrected.

Tags under the cut!

You two whom I mentioned, if you want consider this a tag too! :)

Also: @melisusthewee @dreadfutures @inquisimer @blarrghe @blightbear @star--nymph @pinayelf @dungeons-and-dragon-age @ndostairlyrium @hollytree33 @theluckywizard and YOU

[ghostinthegallery]

For the WIP ask game, could you tell us about that "chapter 1:"? The lack of information in the title is intriguing me

I am glad my vagueness lured you in! This is my one WIP that isn't fanfic. It's my first attempt at original serial fiction, and something I actually intend to publish/try to monetize via patreon etc. It's exciting and nerve wracking (i love you fanfic but you do not pay the bills)! But at least the story is fun (to me). Very adventure focused, D&D-esque, magitek and also there's a big train. And dragons. (Movie trailer voice) IN A WORLD where magic is performed by artisans and craftspeople working spells and creating powerful artifacts, five Sorcerer Kings rule five cities, but beyond lie ruins hiding secrets and treasures of a bygone age. Pyrrha, an engineer, illegally enters these ruins in order to find the tools that will let her enter the mythical Tower in the center of the world, which has been calling to her in her dreams since childhood. She's looking for secrets and boy howdy, does she find some secrets. Excerpt:

“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Thought you could trap us, bastard.” “What’s going on?” Tim asked. Pyrrha beckoned them over and showed Tim and Remi the inside of the hollowed-out rock. It looked nearly identical to the box locking the door to the ruin, though this device contained several more interlocking gears and what appeared to be a blinking alarm signal.  “It’s a circuit alarm,” she said. “If I’d broken the connection by removing the core in the box, this alarm would have tripped. Odds are something else nasty would have happened too. I’d have to examine the lock more closely, but an incendiary rune or stunning spell might have been smithed into the metal if—” “Just get it done.” Remi folded his arms. “We don’t have all season.” “Fine.” Pyrrha grumbled, fighting down a bit of embarrassment at her over-explaining. It was so easy to do with work this intricate. But now that she understood the mechanism it was simple to dislodge and remove the true core. She took out the now harmless alarm for good measure, slipping it into her pocket. “What do you think you’re doing with that thing?” Remi loomed over her, hand drifting closer to the mace on his hip. Pyrrha swallowed. “Just in case we get over our heads. We can break this, which will imitate breaking the circuit and call for help. I’d rather be arrested than dead.” Remi stared down at her, eyes hard. His hand darted out, quick as a viper, and grabbed her jerkin. She yelped as he dragged her up, bringing her face close to his. The bracers on his wrists hummed with their own potent energies, making her skin tingle. “You betray us,” he hissed. “You’re dead. You hear me, Red?” “Remi!” Tim shouted. Pyrrha heard the rasp of steel being drawn from its sheath. “Put her down.” “I want to hear your answer,” he said, still locking Pyrrha’s eyes with his own. “Did. You. Hear. Me?” Pyrhha nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I heard you.” “Good.” He released her so suddenly she felt off balance. Only the steady strength of her prosthetic leg kept her from falling over.

[moongothic]

Okay, here goes. What's your ultimate Crocodad timeline? You can go as wild or as believable as you want.

I mean I made this timeline chart/post/thing.

But if you meant it in a more "how do you think things actually went down" specific kinda way, uhhhhh. Great question, not sure I know how to answer. Like. The possibilities on what could've happened and how are nearly endless and all those options are so interesting to me. Even if there's ideas I feel like might be more likely than others, or I find myself more invested in some ideas, I can't fully like, dedicate myself to any specific idea for a plot point or a storybeat or anything, especially if there's nothing to suggest if anything even remotely similar could've happened.

Like, say for example, how did Crocodile and Dragon meet? There's literally infinite ways they could've met, to the point I'm not even really that interested in speculating on it, because more likely than not, any guess I make will probably be wrong. Like speculating about something like that feels almost pointless. Compare that to say, how did Luffy end up in Garp's care? While we know like nothing about what exactly happened, we do have any theoretical information (ex: Garp and Croc should not know about each other, meaning there must've been a third party to deliver the baby, and it's more than likely that was Dragon) that we can get to much more specific when speculating about what might've happened. Like there's still plenty of options, but the options are far fewer, which makes the speculation so much more interesting, for me at least

But at the same time, I don't want to get too fond of any idea in because Oda could still prove me wrong and debunk it and I'd be sad if I got like fond of a concept and I ended up being dead wrong lmao

Mind you, for me, a big part of the reason I'm invested in the theory to begin with IS the possibility of it being canon. Like yes Crocodad would and always will make for fun AU fanfics regardless of if it's canon or not. But I am here to more or less speculate about canon.

So between my brain treating Crocodad as this monstrous, gigantic flow chart, and me not wanting to get too attached to any potential path on the chart... Yeah I don't know what to tell you anon, I'm sorry

Like. Just as an example. On how my brain processes this shit.

(Sidenote, this chart is like under the assumption that Croc and Dragon had mutually agreed that their child would be put in the care of Dragon's father. And while that makes the most sense to me by a long shot, technically it's totally possible Luffy was taken away from Crocodile by force by Dragon or something else) (THERE'S SO MANY POTENTIAL THINGS THAT COULD'VE HAPPENED, AHHHHHHH)

Like here, I think the most likely canon scenarios would be the "Respectful Rejection" followed by "Too Stunned To Speak -> It's Bad" routes, though personally I might be most interested in the "It Was Really Bad" route because it'd be really fucked up and sad

So like. Yeah. I have no idea what my "ultimate Crocodad timeline" would be, there's too much room for speculation to the point anything specific would leave the room of Neutral Canon Speculation and just turn into a plain old fanfic, and I'm just here for theorizing

But hey if you wanted a fanfic, here's a TL:DR;

(You know I say this is a TL:DR; but this got so fucking long it almost broke this post. Like Tumblr would not let me save the draft or post it anymore because there's a 4k character limit to "blocks", I had to break this into chunks man)

If Crocodile was betrayed by his crew after losing to Whitebeard and had to kill them himself in self-defence;

Who the fuck knows, maybe by some twist of fate our wounded/dying, exhausted and traumatized Crocodile drifted in the sea and his ship ran into Dragon, the man rescuing Crocodile from the kindness of his heart or something IDK

If the dude had to kill his own crew immidiately after Whitebeard crushed his hopes and dreams, Crocodile must've been just absolutely shell shocked. Depressed and withdrawn, just out of it. So maybe Dragon being there could've been great for Croc's mental state. Maybe. Big maybe.

If Crocodile did turn out to be the Rev Army's Secret Sugar Daddy then perhaps this is how that relationship kind of started: Crocodile could've paid Dragon in cash money as thanks for saving his life, and then just kept the money coming since Dragon had an army to run and needed the funds

(Like we don't know why Crocodile joined the Shichibukai anyways, but if it was only ever for The Benefits of not having to deal with the Marines chasing his ass anymore and if he didn't give a rat's ass about the Government... Like yeah, why not fund the Revolutionary Army, give money to the people trying to directly take down the fuckers while right under their noses.) (Who knows maybe Croc does have his own reasons for hating the WG and had like a genuine reason beyond just being a petty king and/or having basic human decency in understanding why the WG was corrupt and needed to be overthrown)

Thus begins a secret comradery where Crocodile every now and then goes and drops off some money to Dragon to help fund the Army, nobody on either side of the war any wiser (except maybe Iva-chan, they're allowed to be in on the secret, as a treat). It's their secret that they keep for years

Time passes

Whoopsie poopsie Crocodile's prégónánté

The two realize that their kid is going to be in so much danger for a pletora of reasons and that neither can raise the baby. Dragon knows his father would keep their baby safe and they both agree to leaving the child to him (not a happy decision, it's just for the best, for everyone's sake)

Anyway Crocodile's gender dysphoria goes into turbo mode during pregnancy. Maybe he never really realized it was there and/or what it was, but boy howdy, it's there now and it's really really bad. Like, if it wasn't for the baby he might just kill himself (and god knows once the kid is out and taken away, there's not going to be anything to stop him from doing just that)

Crocodile must've gone into hiding during the latter half of his pregnancy to keep it a secret from the Government, and I could totally imagine him being hellbent on being completely isolated. He is a Shichibukai, everybody knows him, he can't risk having even some random doctor recognize him and find out about the baby. Besides, it's not like he can do much while hiding anyways, like he might as well read 150 medical books to ensure he can deliver his baby by himself

(Sidenote but the narrator in OP has called Fuusha Village Luffy's "birth place" (think the term he used was "umereta machi", lit. "town he was born in"), and if that's true, then. Croc should've been hiding in and/or near Fuusha Village in Goa Kingdom. Additional sidenote, there are wild crocodiles in Goa, which are the Sir's favorite food.)

To avoid suspicion and the risk of being found out, Dragon might've agreed to not go see Crocodile during this time, only agreeing to see his significant other after the child was born so he could then deliver the baby to Garp (after not just leaving the Marines but also starting a fucking revolutionary army, the dude probably didn't want his father to find out he had been dating a fucking WARLORD)

But surely he'd think Crocodile was insane if he thought he'd let Crocodile deliver the baby alone. Like no, somebody needs to be there by his side. Someone Dragon could trust, a fellow Revolutionary perhaps. Oh yeah, just send Ivankov, what could possibly go wrong

(Personal headcanon but since we don't know when Ivankov got their Fruit, I kind of want to imagine they ate it just a short time ago at this point and that they hadn't fully realized the potential of the Hormone Fruit yet. Like their genderfluid ass may not have understood the power they now held)

Iva-chan did not know Croc was prénánté, whether Dragon told Ivankov ahead of time why they were being sent to check on Croc is up or debate (if Iva-chan was aware of Croc being their Secret Sugar Daddy though then I'm sure they understood why Dragon wanted and was willing to help out Crocodile in this situation). Croc and/or Dragon probably lied through their teeth about the father of the child if Iva-chan ever asked about it, and whatever Iva-chan was told they clearly bought it since they never knew about Dragon having a kid.

When Iva gets there though they can see right away that something is fucking wrong with Crocodile, in ways even he can't understand. He is so uncomfortable 24/7 for seemingly no reason. So naturally Iva-chan pokes and prods at the dumbass until Croc has a break down and explains his weird feelings he can't even word properly and this is how Emporio Ivankov discovered transgenderism

What's that? You don't like what pregnancy has done to your body, doesn't feel like it's yours anymore? You feel love for your child but don't want to be its mother? Good news, you can be its father instead. Bad news, gotta wait until the baby is farted out. Aren't sure about it? No worries, there's time to think about it, and shit's 100% reversible anyways. Just hang in there for a little bit longer, you may feel god awful rn but that too shall pass

(Maybe this is how Iva-chan starts calling Crocodile "Crocoboy", just to get him to warm up to the idea that he could be(come) a man, get used to it etc)

Crocodile has an identity crisis of a lifetime. Like either he knew since he was a small child that something was fucky wucky, or he never realized it until now, either way, he must not have even been aware of the idea that he could trans his gender (which would make sense if Ivankov only recently got their Fruit just sayin'). So yeah. Enjoy that gender crisis, dumbass

Like he straight up just goes through the five stages of grief before he's like "god dammit if it'll make me feel less like I'll kill myself then it's worth a shot, don't care what Dragon ends up thinking"

At some point Croc must've contacted Dragon at least one final time just so they can agree on when and where they'll meet to hand over the baby once it's born (if Croc doesn't die at child birth. I mean they both know he'll be fine, Croc's survived worse. But if something did happen, Iva-chan will take care of the baby until Dragon arrives)

This is One Piece. Luffy was born at dawn.

Crocodile probably insists on getting the T literally immidiately after the baby is out. If he doesn't just pass out immidiately after giving birth. But like within 24 hours of giving birth. Iva-chan is probably like "Crocoboy you're exhausted, chill, your cooch needs to recover" and he's just like "why wait for it to recover when you're going to get rid of it, just do it"

(Iva-chan probably goes and gets Croc some emergency clothes and like bottles and baby food etc because god knows he's going to burst out of his old clothes and he ain't gonna have the tiddies to breastfeed that baby either)

Anyway he gets the rones and gets to enjoy gender euphoria for the first time in his life. Happy times, happy tears, a happy croc

Dude probably nearly shits himself when he tries to speak as he is now voiced by Ryuuzaburo Fucking Ootomo (even Iva-chan is like "HOLY SHIT your voice dropped") (like they probably agressively try to encourage Crocodile to speak more and let them hear that voice and Croc is like "ssssshhhhhhhhh stop yelling you'll wake up the baby!!")

Anyway he finally gets to fucking rest and relax and enjoy the sheer relief of not just being free of his dysphoria but also his baby boy being born and looking all healthy and happy. A happy dad

(If Crocodile was the first person Iva-chan helped transition, and under these circumstances specifically. I think seeing the guy and his sheer relief would give like Iva-chan a new mission in life. To help people like Croc)

(Ivankov: "It's like a great weight has been lifted off your chest... GET IT, 'CAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE TITS ANYMORE! HEEHAW!!" / 🐊: "If you wake up the baby I will skewer you")

Anyway if the Rev Army member stays with Crocodile for too long there's a risk of them getting found out and that'd be bad, so Iva-chan needs to GTFO (they have better things to do, like overthrow some governments and stuff). Also Crocodile needs to prepare because he can't have the Government wondering where the fuck he's been all these months much longer (god knows explaining his sudden manliness is going to be enough to deal with) and the kid needs to go into hiding. If Iva-chan asks where the child is going, Croc probably won't give a straight answer, just that there's a plan and he needs Ivankov to keep the baby a secret etc (perhaps that could be the blackmail Iva-chan brought up in Impel Down 🤔)

Crocodile gets to spend a little time with his baby boy (before and/or after Iva-chan leaves). Crocodiles (the animals) look after their babies for three months before they're on their own, so at most he stayed with his baby for three months, though I'd argue just 3 weeks, simply because that'd a painfully short amount of time that's just perfect for tragic storytelling

Perhaps that was the happiest time of Croc's life. No stupid Government to deal with, no pirates to fight, no villages to pillage. Just him and his beautiful baby boy. Not even the knowledge of knowing he'd have to say goodbye to his son forever would get in the way of his happiness at that moment.

(Did he ever think about what to name the child? Maybe Dragon had wanted Crocodile to name their child and Crocodile was supposed to think of something while expecting, before the baby was born. Or maybe, knowing he would never see that child again (until the Government blows up) he could not bring himself to think of a name. It'd be Dragon's father who'd look after the baby anyways, Dragon should name him)

Dragon comes. Either exactly at the agreed upon time, or perhaps a day early (dude was too excited and wanted to be with his wife and child, together as a family, even if it was for a day). Whenever he arrives;

See the chart earlier in the post

However things go down, Dragon and Crocodile go their separate ways. Crocodile leaves the island immidiately.

Well. I certainly became absolutely deranged writing this.

HOPE YOU FOUND THAT ENTERTAINING