#game of thrones crossover call of duty

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬

a/n: crossover that I really wanted to do. I've used dragons from every timeline.

gif cred: @gameofthronesdaily.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

I wanted to make this as simple as possible, so I'm not going into backgrounds or Houses or the wheres, whos and whys. But if you'd like me to make backstories for them, let me know in my inbox!

(but p.s. I can already see Kyle being a Velaryon Prince and Simon a Targaryen because of their natural features.)

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 | 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒚𝒔

There's something very regal about John - he holds himself with dignity and grace. He walks with pride and knows his rank/his place. Because he's earnt it.

Meleys, who was once known as the quickest dragon in Westeros, also holds herself the exact same way John does.

She is the Red Queen, vicious, fierce and unyielding. She is royalty - looks it too.

I'm not quite sure she'd like a male rider - there would have to be a lot of winning her over. All her other riders have been female, and very bold. Yet, when Meleys saw the bravery of John, she allowed him to mount her.

But the two of them together would be an absolute force to be reckoned with. Intelligence mixed with tactics, and planning - they would soon become one of the most feared rider and mount in history.

𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 | 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈

Known by a lot of positive traits, the first one being: understanding her responsibilities. Silverwing is the perfect dragon.

Great with people, friendly, and elegant. She knows when eyes are on her.

In the same way that Kyle can make a friend wherever he is. People find him very charming.

Both are great at socialising. This reflects how a dragonrider usually has similar traits to their mount.

Know their duties, but also know when enough is enough. They don't let others walk all over them.

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 | 𝑽𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓

Ooh boy, okay so these two bonded over being grumpy and moody.

While Vermithor used to be the mount of one of Westerosi's greatest Kings, I think he would like Simon a whole lot more.

Simon, who would never make him do anything Simon wouldn't do himself.

Both of them hate too much company.

And the only way to truly get away from people is in the air.

Vermithor might be considered an old man, but he's still got that passion within him, and damn anyone who says what he can and cannot do

The pair could be gone for weeks. Only relying on one another for company, aiding each other in getting food and Vermithor being wonderful at finding bodies of water.

Although they do usually go to the same places now.

Sometimes Simon forgets how formidable Vermithor is - and that in the past anyone who approached him would burn to death by his flame.

But really Simon only sees a big lizard with wings who snores when he sleeps and grunts when he's angry. Oh, and watch out for his tail because he will try to knock you over when he's irritated.

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐓𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡 | 𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒙𝒆𝒔

Let's gather what we know about Soap: intelligent (obviously, no one in the army reaches that level by being a complete tosser), he's active and ready to be in the field i.e, now the air.

Meraxes is known for being an avid flyer. Her first and only rider, Rhaenys the First, flew her mount so much - some say it was the collective amount of both her brother and sister riding their own beasts.

Johnny is the dragonrider who is constantly scowering for dragon eggs. If he finds them, he cares for them like they're his own children.

Johnny would literally be the Father of Dragons. Would 100% do a Dany and walk into fire to see if the eggs will hatch (don't worry the other boys look out for him and Meraxes would never let him be so stupid as to willingly hurt himself.)

If you have a different opinion I'm more than happy to hear it!

[thedovesaredying]

Flames of Green | CoD x GoT/HotD | Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish | Part 1.

Artwork by Elizabeth

You're the heir to the Iron Throne, the eldest child of the current king with the blood of the Targaryens flowing through your veins. Unfortunately, you're due to be married off to a mysterious Northern lord by the name of John MacTavish. At least your closest friend and member of your guard, Simon Riley, will be by your side throughout it all.

A/N: I'm back in my House of the Dragon era, so I'm mixing hyperfixations. The Cannibal doesn't get enough love, he's a nasty bastard and he deserves to cause some chaos. It will eventually be a Ghost x Reader x Soap relationship and likely a bit of a slowburn. Literally just for my own entertainment, but I hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: None

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next

It’s times like this that you mourn the loss of your youth. Forced to sit in silence while discussions are held by old men around a table, weighing up the advantages and disadvantages of your future marriage to every potential high lord in Westeros. Your opinion is never considered, let alone asked for by any of your father’s advisors, your compliance expected regardless.  

If you had been born a man you could have your pick of any woman in the kingdom to take as a wife, but instead, you’re forced to simply accept whatever man is placed in front of you. Such is the burden of being the princess and heir to House Targaryen. You will be made to give up the right to rule the kingdom to the high lord assigned to you, never to touch the ever-elusive Iron Throne that should have been yours by right.  

You had never really taken the prospect of marriage too seriously in your youth, always considering it a problem for the you of the future to deal with. You didn’t care to forge lasting alliances with other ladies and lords, too busy dragging your poor best friend, Simon, through the gardens and dirtying your extravagant dresses. 

But those days were over. 

Talk of wedding a powerful lord and bringing forth the next line of Targaryen children is all that fills your ears now. You’re forced to entertain every man, young and old, that wishes to gain your favour with a polite smile and feigned interest. You don’t even have your dear Simon to offer you his companionship and a break from the cruel realities of the world. No doubt he would have entertained you with his dry remarks about each man set before you.  

It has been years since you last saw Simon. He was taken from the Red Keep by his father and sent to squire for another lord in the hopes of teaching him the art of warfare. Lord Riley was a foul man, constantly berating his son for spending his time with the Princess rather than roughhousing with his fellow boys. He considered the boy too soft and squeamish at the sight of blood to make a good future lord of their keep.  

You disagreed, of course, Simon was perfect just the way he was; gentle and kind to all those around him. Your friend couldn’t hurt a fly, but he was still one of the bravest people you knew.  

You dread to think just how much he would have hated being drawn into battles, forced to kill other men with his own hands. The letters he occasionally wrote to you always steered clear of depicting the violence you were certain he must have been subjected to, but you’re far from naive enough to hope he has yet to participate in any bloodshed. As the years dragged on, word from him has grown scarce, however, to the point where you can hardly remember when you heard from him last.  

What you do know, is that he had been sent to offer assistance in maintaining peace throughout the Stepstones, killing raiders and pirates that would endanger trade routes to King’s Landing.  

But that was almost six months ago, and there has been little else to soothe your vexed nerves over his safety. He had made a promise to you the day he left, that once his training was done he would return to your side, this time as a knight who would offer himself to your Queen’s Guard once the time was right. Never again would he leave you, more than happy to forfeit the ruling of his own homeland if it meant he could keep you safe.  

You had clung to that promise every day for years after his departure, but with each passing moment it become harder to hold out hope of seeing him again. After all, what is one promise between children in the grand scheme of things?  

It’s a blessing when you’re finally relieved from the meeting, escaping from the suffocating air within the council chambers and fleeing to the safety of your room. You don’t even pause to ensure one of your guards is following you, getting straight to stripping from your dress and replacing it with your riding gear.  

As the carriage carries you away from the city and toward the Dragon Pit your nerves begin to settle. The constant odour of sweat and excrement quickly gives way to fresh air the further away you get. It’s a beautiful day, with hardly a cloud in the sky and wildflowers blooming all along the road. It’s a genuine shame that your day has started so poorly, otherwise you’d have loved to wander the palace gardens and enjoy the midday sun.  

The ground is rocky outside of the dragon pit, and you’re jostled around a bit until the carriage comes to a stop. Although this is your destination, the dragon you seek is not here. Your dragon is far too large to be housed within the Pit.  

Unlike your younger sister, you were not blessed by the Gods to have your dragon egg hatch while you were in the cradle. All throughout your childhood you sat next to it and prayed for the hatchling to come forth, promising you would care for the creature and love it more than anything. But the baby dragon never arrived.  

Many said that it was a sign from the Gods, that you were unfit to be the heir if even your own dragon refused to hatch for you. It was a heavy sentence hanging around your neck, weighing you down and making you feel as though you are worthless, despite the fact you have more power than most of the people laughing at your situation.  

None of them are laughing now.  

You see your dragon stretched out atop one of the nearby ridges. He’s so large that his wings and tail drape over the edge of the rocks, entirely unconcerned by the humans fearfully gathered beneath him as he snoozes away in the warmth of the sun. His scales are like coal, absorbing every ray of sunshine that he can.  

The Cannibal may not be as large as Vhagar, but he’s far older and, as many would argue, far meaner than the old girl. Where most dragons have vibrant, golden eyes, you’re greeted by a pair of sinister green the moment you draw near. His go-to reaction to most things is aggression, and you’ve seen many people meet their end in a blast of emerald flame for merely disturbing him.  

It’s for that precise reason you’re stunned to see someone standing beside the grumpy old beast. There’s only one person other than yourself who could get anywhere near the Cannibal without immediately being swallowed whole. The man pauses his rubbing of your dragon’s scales the moment he sees you, only to earn a displeased whack from the Cannibal’s snout. You bite your lip to force down the grin that’s threatening to spread across your face when the man drops down to one knee, his head bowed respectfully.  

“Lord Riley,” you nod, “I do believe that’s my dragon you’re touching.” That earns a groan from the Cannibal, his massive head twisting away from you both, as though already bored of the conversation.  

“A thousand apologies, princess,” Simon grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “your dragon was growing impatient.” The dragon in question huffs, his tail twitching like an agitated cat.  

Simon looks so different from the last time you saw him. He’s both taller and broader, completely filled out with muscles. When he stands again, you’re face to face with the rather intimidating bone mask adorning his face. You’re not certain if it’s real bone, but at that moment you could have cared less, throwing yourself at the large man.  

He catches you easily, holding you tightly against his larger body. It’s entirely improper and if anyone other than your guards witnessed such an interaction there would no doubt be whispers abound. Perhaps it’s a good thing Simon decided to meet you somewhere so private.  

“When did you get back?” you ask, leaning back just long enough to look him in the eye.  

“We docked late last night,” he answers, and you can feel the way his chest rumbles with each word. His deep voice soothes something within you, your stress dissipating like mist at dawn. “We received word that the King’s Guard now has an open position,” he continues, and then much to your shock adds, “I’m here to fill that position.”  

You pull away from him almost completely, only your hands still gently curled around his gauntlets, “but I heard that your father was recently taken ill, don’t you need to return home?”  

While the mask hides the majority of Simon’s face, you can still see the way the skin around his eyes crinkles slightly, “I made a promise to serve my future Queen,” he takes your hand from his arm and presses the back of your palm to where his lips are beneath his mask, “if you’ll have me, princess.”  

You can feel your face burning with the intensity with which Simon stares at you. “I’m certain my father will be delighted to have such a well-regarded warrior in his service,” you smile, gently pulling your hands away from the knight, despite the urge to keep holding onto him.  

Before you can continue the conversation, the Cannibal turns his head back to your again, nudging at you with an irritated huff. His breath is scalding against your skin, yet it doesn’t burn you, thankfully. You place your hand against the beast’s snout, feeling the thick scales shift under your leather gloves. “Gīda,” you coo to the dragon, waiting until he lowers his wing to the floor to provide you with a way to climb onto his back. He’s far too large for you to mount the same way you would a younger dragon.  

Once settling into the Cannibal’s saddle, you grin down at your friend, “I look forward to seeing you in the keep, my lord.” You only have the time to see Simon’s quick nod, before your dragon is leaping from the edge of the ridge, forcing an end to your conversation. You can feel his clear exasperation through your bond and ensure to give the old dragon a scratch to the neck.  

[mariacallous]

Group chats, including at least one of mine, can’t get enough. #KateGate—loosely, a collection of theories around the whereabouts and well-being of Kate Middleton, the Princess of Wales—presently seems to be occupying more brain cells than oxygen.

Gossip has been flying ever since January, when Middleton took a step back from public life for abdominal surgery. For a while it was just mindless chatter, but then Middleton posted a photo on social media, purportedly taken by her husband, Prince William, that news agencies determined had been manipulated. Then, speculation—that she’d Gone Girl’d, that the royal family was hiding something—turned fully conspiratorial, and turned the conspiracies into a cultural moment. (See also: crossover memes showing Middleton at the weird Willy Wonka experience in Glasgow.)

It is as though, two decades later, the British royal family is just now learning about the Streisand effect. Back in 2003, Barbara Streisand sued a photographer for releasing a picture of her home that few people had seen. But the suit itself, which Streisand ultimately lost, led far more people to the photo than probably would have otherwise seen it, and now there’s a whole effect named after this incident. The royals released an altered photo and now it’s part of a “-gate”: #KateGate. By trying to relay that everything is fine, the photo lured even more people into questioning what was happening with Middleton.

Bottom line: If you’re, say, a member of the monarchy, and you don’t want them thinking your “abdominal surgery” is code for getting a Brazilian butt lift, your best bet, in 2024, is transparency. Anyone with an internet connection now has the kind of bullshit detectorsthat Area 51 believers could’ve only dreamed of—or they act like they do—and they’re going to figure you out.

Granted, they may not find the “right” answer or the “truth,” but they will know when someone is trying to pull a fast one. Thirty years ago, Buckingham Palace may have been able to throw snoopers off, but the internet of 2024 will investigate like no other. We got Taylor Swift conspiracies and QAnon. People wonder if most images are AI-generated for at least a second. Going onto X (formerly Twitter) now feels like stumbling into the writers room of a CSI spinoff—everyone thinks they’re a forensics expert. If anybody, including Middleton, thought no one would notice a doctored photo on Instagram, they were sorely mistaken.

On Monday, TMZ and The Sun released a video showing the Princess of Wales out shopping with Prince William. She was seemingly alive and well. The Sun said it was releasing images of their stroll “in a bid to bring an end to what the Palace has called the ‘madness of social media.’” It did nothing of the sort. Interest in Middleton peaked the next day on Google Trends. #katemiddleton and #whereiskate now have millions of mentions across social media platforms. The madness has not calmed.

People pay attention to the British royal family for the same reason they pay attention to Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon: They love mess. Monday’s grainy footage just made the mess worse. TikTok is full of breakdown videos attempting to debunk the images. Others just wondered aloud if they’d been fully sucked in.

“This was fun for a while, and now I am genuinely at a loss,” one TikTok user posted. “I don’t know if this is how you feel when you actually lose the plot in a conspiracy theory and like five years from now everyone’s like, ‘That’s the moment when we lost them,’ or if we’re like actually watching an insane cover-up take place.”

Following the release of the shopping video and images, “friends of the royals” told The Daily Beast that Middleton would resume her public duties with a “big bang” on March 31, Easter Sunday. On Wednesday, The Cut, which previously wrote that the Middleton affair was a “crisis,” reported that Buckingham Palace was looking for a communications assistant. (Mind you, this is Buckingham, not Kensington, but same operation.) Queen Elizabeth II used to say the royal family must be seen to be believed. That may not be true much longer.

[erenyuuta]

Ice & Fire - Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Glossary & Character List (contains spoilers)

Main Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Yuuta Okkotsu

Minor Pairings: Megumi Fushiguro x Rika Orimoto, Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto, Toji x OC, other pairings TBA for the sake of spoilers ❤️

Genre: Fantasy AU, romance, smut, angst, fluff, a crossover between Attack On Titan and Jujutsu Kaisen, loosely influenced by Game of Thrones and Eragon. Crack taken seriously 😉

Series Summary: Yuuta Okkotsu, the kind-hearted firstborn prince of the kingdom of Nymeria, finds himself stranded on an island that had been thought to only exist in legend. It is there he meets the last of the Valyrians, a dragon-blood named Eren Jaeger. While their days on the island are happy, they can’t last forever. Yuuta has a duty as prince to his kingdom that he must fulfill, and it is this duty that ultimately tears them apart.

Content Warnings/Themes: BL/Yaoi, hybrids, monsters, magic and other supernatural elements, polytheism (gods, demons), infidelity, power imbalances & classism, period-typical misogyny & homophobia, warfare, graphic depictions of violence and death, brothels/sex work, explicit sexual content (blow job, anal sex, rimming, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, monsterfucking, knotting, foot play, heat cycles, 69, cum-eating, spit play, deep-throating, double penetration, sadism, masochism, blood consumption, use of weapons during sex, choking/asphyxiation kink, master/slave kink, handjob, drunk sex, orgy), dub-con, non-con, pregnancy, virginity loss, drugs (alcohol, smoking, poisons), traumatic backstories, mentions of torture/genocide/experimentation on people, unrequited love, arranged marriages, drowning, murder, suicide, yandere tropes, corruption arc, major character deaths

Co-written by Aleks from @alekstraszas and Kana from @ficsforeren/@sundaysundaes

The poster for this chapter was commissioned by Aleks from @/belvishaio on twitter

The Illusion of Love

It is sometime later during that first week of his training, when Eren, flocked by Megumi and Todo at his sides, makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. He typically never has reasons to go this way, as he’s still very much treated as if he were a high-ranking noble within Yuuta’s palace (at the prince’s insistence), but today, he comes along at Megumi’s request.

“Why are we going to help with the deliveries? Isn’t that something the servants would do?” Eren asks aloud.

“Well, yes, but yesterday the farmer mentioned that there would be an especially large delivery today, so he needs all the hands he can get,” Megumi replies.

Megumi doesn’t offer much more of an explanation; he’s a man of few words, as Eren has come to learn over the last few weeks. If it wasn’t for his behavior in the company of Princess Rika, Eren would wonder if Megumi ever spoke at all.

When they arrive outside the servants' quarters, stopping at the side of the palace in which the farmers and craftsmen make their deliveries, they see a tall young female servant carrying small carts of vegetables. She has long black hair that cascades over the plain cloth dress she wears, rosy pale skin, and eyes that shimmer a golden yellow. To anyone else above her station, she would have just been another servant girl who worked in the kitchens, as besides her cheery personality, nothing remotely unique stands out about her. But Eren is able to recognize her right away—if only because of Aoi Todo’s having taken a liking to her. Or rather, a borderline obsession.

“Lady Takada!” Todo calls out to her, and it is obvious by the way she hesitates and squints that his calling is unwelcome, not that he would understand the meaning of her gestures (or if he does, he ignores it). He rushes ahead of the men, and with his burly arms, quickly scoops up the crate she had been dragging toward the doorway. “You shouldn’t carry such heavy things. Let me take these for you, my lady.”

“Ah,” she smiles, though it looks rather forced, as she bows her head. “Thank you, Ser Todo.”

Todo is in such a rush to help her that he ignores the farmer who had been standing nearby offloading crates of seasonal fruits and vegetables. Takada takes a few cloth bags of persimmons from the cart brought by the farmer as she walks with Todo away from the group, bringing their handful of foods to the kitchens. She peeks into the bag and notes to herself with a smile that the persimmons are quite beautifully ripened, shining with their bright orange skins—the perfect fruit for the beginning of the fall season.

When Megumi and Eren arrive, trailing behind Todo, the farmer looks up in their direction. Recognition dawns on his features, a smile breaking out over his lips as his soft brown eyes lock onto Megumi.

“Fushiguro!” The farmer calls out. Eren’s never seen him before. He’s a young man, just a tad shorter than Megumi, with blonde spiky hair and distinctively tanned skin—the marking of a man who works in the sun. 

“Itadori,” Megumi greets the man. “Still need our help?”

“Yeah! The palace has ordered so much food since the prince returned. Is there a banquet happening or something?” he starts. Megumi shrugs as Yuuji points a thumb in the direction of the entrance. “By the way, who was that guy with Lady Takada just now?”

“Oh, Todo?” Megumi asks, disinterested. “He’s another one of the knights. He loses focus whenever Lady Takada’s around… He’s somehow convinced she will marry him.”

“Oh?” Yuuji’s eyebrows lift up in surprise. He speaks to Lady Takada often, as she works solely in the kitchens and assists in his deliveries, and has heard nothing of the sort. “She has never spoken of being betrothed.”

Megumi’s flatline expression doesn’t even waiver when he replies, “That’s because she’s not. She rejected him. Many times.”

Yuuji frowns as if Todo’s unsuccessful pursuit of love wounds him personally. “Poor guy.”

It is then that Yuuji’s eyes wander to Megumi’s side as he sets down the cart of goods he had in his arms. He notices Eren standing beside the knight, and his very first reaction is to be shocked at Eren’s stature.

“Who’s this big guy? I’ve never seen him before.” Yuuji asks, craning his neck to meet Eren’s gaze. Though Yuuji is a man of average height, Eren and Todo are more than a head above his stature, something he notices with both of them right away.

Eren replies to the farmer with his name, his voice surprisingly deep and his accent quite thick. He says nothing else—despite how he never seems to be able to shut his mouth around Yuuta, Eren is the opposite around strangers: observant, and rather quiet. He never knows how they may react to him, the only dragon the realm has ever known, so he nods and gives up nothing but his name.

Yuuji’s perplexed by his accent, his brows threading as he questions what he hears. “Are you from another kingdom? You don’t sound Nymerian. Wait!” Eren’s eyes widen while the farmer raises a hand, the dragon confused as Yuuji shouts. The farmer’s eyes sparkle with recognition. “You must be that… that… what did they call it?” He pauses for a moment as he squints, stroking his chin with a perplexed hand. 

Eren parts his lips, beginning to speak. “Drago—”

Yuuji suddenly clasps his hands together, finding the word he was searching for: “Lizard!”

Eren frowns. “Lizard?”

Megumi quickly clears his throat, stifling a laugh, as Yuuji gets more animated than ever. Though Megumi himself had thought the same thing upon first seeing Eren’s dragon form, he would never say the thought out loud.

“Yes! The whole village’s been talking about it!” Yuuji makes a gesture with his hands, flattening them out and pushing them through the air as if he were about to dive into a pool of water. “The massive green-eyed lizard-man that flew through the sky and brought home our prince! It’s amazing! My father, he saw you fly over our land with himself. You’ll have to fly again someday because I missed it and I wish to see it with my own eyes.”

“And where were you?” Megumi asks.

“On the toilet,” Yuuji shrugs.

Though it is not as if Eren is walking around advertising that he is a dragon, the nearby village spreads rumors faster than in a blink of an eye. Soldiers who come and go from the palace, the City Watch, servants, laymen—over the last few weeks, all of them have spoken the tale of the day a dragon swooped in from outside the realm with the missing prince on its back, only for it to transform into a man himself. Who else would this incredibly tall man, new to the infantry yet strong enough to be placed as the Lord Commander’s esquire, with an accent Yuuji had never heard of be, if not the dragon?

“I didn’t realize I was the talk of the town,” Eren says. “They’re all wrong though. I’m not a lizard. I’m a dragon. From Valyria.”

“Is that a village in the west or something?” Yuuji blinks.

Eren, annoyed, opens his mouth but Megumi speaks before Eren can utter a word, in an attempt to keep the peace. “Let’s just get everything inside, yeah? You can chat later.”

Despite Yuuji’s confusion and Eren’s glare, the three men lift the wooden crates of fruits and vegetables, carrying them over the threshold of the entryway and into the kitchens. It is there that they find Lady Takada and Ser Todo in the middle of a conversation, Todo with his big, burly shoulders sunken downward.

“I’m sorry, Ser,” she says, now with an audience. She bows her head apologetically. “But I’ve told you before… I’m already in love with someone, my lord.”

The maid moves on, leaving the awkward atmosphere in the kitchens as the men who had just walked in had to stumble upon Todo’s rejection. Todo, despite it not being the first time she's done so, has eyes dampened with tears as he faces his fellow knights. Eren and Megumi are used to such a sight, ignoring the conversation to stack their vegetable crates amongst the other items in the kitchens.

Yuuji, frozen at the sight of Todo’s rejection, catches Todo’s line of sight. At once, Todo calls to him with an accusatory finger, “You, farmer.”

“Y-Yes?” Yuuji looks panicked at once, the crates in his arms feeling heavier with Todo’s stare. Todo’s so much bigger than him, a fist to the face could knock him out cold.

“Lady Takada always says she’s in love with another man, yet she never says their name. What do you think? Do you think she means me?”

Megumi and Eren, from behind Todo and out of Todo’s sight, signal to Yuuji with their hands to nod and play along to Todo’s game, as they always do. But Yuuji, ever oblivious, ignores their gestures.

“No, man,” Yuuji replies, to Todo’s surprise and the other knights’ horror. “If it were you, you’d know it. I think you’re just going about this all wrong. It takes more than just a proposal to woo a lady.”

“What do you know about wooing a lady?” Megumi asks.

“Well—nothing, actually, since I’ve never tried. But if I were to try it would be with flowers and praise, prostrating myself before her like worshiping a goddess. You have to wonder if you are even worthy of her glance before thinking about asking for her hand in marriage!”

“What nonsense are you on abou—”

“Wow,” Todo gapes. “This farmer has to be an expert on women.” He grabs Yuuji’s hand, albeit way too tight, and gives it a shake so hard Yuuji's entire arm moves with it. “Tell me…”

Todo looks expectantly at Yuuji, waiting for him to fill in the gap. “Yuuji. Itadori Yuuji.”

“Itadori Yuuji, tell me. What is your ideal woman?”

Megumi, exasperated, slaps the heel of his palm against his face. Eren grumbles, “Not this again.”

Yuuji’s eyes light up as if he had pondered the answer to this question his entire life. His voice takes on a mystical quality as he answers, staring up at the ceiling wistfully. “A woman with eyes as blue as a cloudless sky and hair shining gold like the summer sun. Fair, smooth skin, like an angel had dropped down from the heavens. Oh, and best of all—a huge ass.”

“Gods, he’s helpless,” Megumi mutters.

“Amazing,” Todo utters, in pure unadulterated joy. “What a man of taste you are, Itadori Yuuji.”

“What do you lot know about women anyway?” A voice breaks through the small gathering forming in the kitchen, the source somewhere across the expansive room. When the men turn towards the sound, they see another knight of the same rank as Todo, Kinji Hakari, walking into the room with amusement prominent across his features. “If I had to wager, you’re all a bunch of virgins.”

“Not everyone wants to lose their virtue to a common whore in the Dryads, Ser Hakari,” Megumi replies instantly, a bite to his words. Though, with the flush on his cheeks, it seems as if his mind is somewhere else, or perhaps, with someone. “We’re busy enough as it is with training. Or at least, we should be.”

“Well in my case, I’m saving it for the day I meet a special lady. Women care about that, you know.” Yuuji says, his thumb pointed to the center of his chest, proud of his noble pursuit in saving himself for the day he meets the perfect woman. 

“I wonder if Lady Takada cares about that too,” Todo murmurs, mostly to himself.

Eren ventures to stay quiet this once. Though he has never done so with a woman, he is most certainly not a man of virtue. But he knows saying that out loud will reward him with too many questions he doesn’t wish to answer. 

“Listen to yourselves,” Hakari crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re talking like a bunch of pussies. Just down a pint in Tyrrosh, spend a couple of gold coins, and get it over with at the Dryads.” He wags a finger in Yuuji’s direction, “Women don’t care about virtue. Hell, the more experienced you are, the more you can please them. Doesn’t that sound more like pleasing a goddess, blondie?”

Both Todo and Yuuji marvel at Hakari’s words, as if he had just imparted the most harrowing of wisdom upon them. 

“And what’s the Lord of Tyrrosh’s son doing spending his off days in town when he could marry any noble lady he could wish for?” Megumi asks him. It is true that Hakari, being of noble blood, could have spent his days being an Earl or a Lord, pissing away his money and surrounding himself with luxuries instead of joining the infantry. And Megumi, who perhaps spends more time than he should pondering how his life would have turned out if he were of noble blood, has always wondered why Hakari would squander it.

Hakari brings a hand to the back of his head, scratching it as he mutters, “What are you, my father?” A round of laughter is heard amongst the men in the room before Hakari adds, his tone a bit more serious, “I wanted to be more than just some Lord wandering around Tyrrosh with nothing but my wealth.” He turns towards Megumi, his dark eyes meeting Megumi’s greens. “Maybe you’re too young to remember, but when Princess Yuuri was captured and murdered—that was the first time Nymeria had ever been attacked like that in hundreds of years. I was a teenager then but I couldn’t sit back and watch. I’m sure it was the same for you, Todo.”

Todo nods. “Though I’m from a smaller house, it was the same for me. Drican stealing our beautiful princess from right under our noses—despicable. I joined the infantry right away.”

“Ah, so it wasn’t all about impressing the ladies, then,” Yuuji muses.

“Well,” Hakari shrugs, a smile dancing across his lips. “Having the ladies fawn over us is a bonus.”

As Hakari, Todo, and Yuuji continue their chat, Eren is surprised out of his stupor to hear Megumi’s voice directed at him.

“You don’t believe all those things they say about impressing women with experience, do you, Eren?” It’s rare that Megumi is the one to initiate conversation—so rare Eren wonders if it’s the first time, even.

“Hmm… Well, if it’s someone you love—”

“W-who said anything about love?” Megumi huffs, a warmth crawling up his neck. Certainly, he was not entertaining any thoughts about love—or any person in particular, for that matter. He was only… curious… if all ladies had such sensibilities. There was definitely not a specific person who came to the forefront of his mind. At least, not one whom he would admit to thinking about even by the threat of a dagger to the neck. He adds, seeing Eren’s scrutinizing look, “It was simply a thought.”

Eren quirks a brow but doesn’t comment on Megumi’s floundering. “Is that not why you would want to bed someone? Because you love them?”

“Well… I guess, but not always,” Megumi gestures towards the other men in the room, who are currently speaking of one of Hakari’s many conquests. Anything to get Eren’s eyes off of his face which grows more flushed by the second. “Like Ser Hakari said, often these men do it just for pleasure."

“Well, in that case, perhaps they would prefer experience?” Eren shrugs. “I never really thought about doing anything like that. I’d only be interested in lying with someone I had feelings for.”

Megumi’s normally stoic look is replaced with one of genuine shock. “Really? Every soldier I’ve met always talks about women as if they were things to be conquered. I thought I was the strange one for not having an interest in their competitions.”

Eren shows Megumi an earnest smile. “I guess we’re alike in that way, then. It’s not something to be ashamed of. I think if there are feelings between you and the person you want to be with, it would be even more special if you were each other’s firsts. When you love someone, and they save that part of themselves for you, it’s—” Eren quickly realizes by the scrutinizing look in Megumi’s eyes that he may be getting carried away, and he stutters. “I-I just imagine it would be special to share that with the person you love.”

Megumi stays silent for a moment, absorbing Eren’s words. Then, “Eren… Do you—”

“Fushiguro! And the lizard-man!” Yuuji calls out from the doorway, waving an arm in the air to grab their attention. “There’s still some more food to bring to the kitchens. If you could lend a hand.”

“It’s dragon,” Eren grumbles, turning to the blond. Louder, he adds, “Just call me Eren!”

“Fine, Eren, if you would so kindly lend a hand,” Yuuji beckons him with a hand outside. Eren begins to move forward while Megumi finds himself staring at his back. For a moment he wonders just how would Eren know those types of feelings without having experienced them himself. And when he, too, resumes helping the farmer with the delivery, his mind wanders back to his princess, as it inevitably sometimes does. With a frown, he realizes that perhaps he may have a reason for understanding those feelings too.

***

It is one crisp autumn day, the greens of Nymeria’s lush landscape tinting shades of orange and brown as the fall settles in. Yuuta spends the afternoon with his advisors discussing matters of the realm. His dragon, as is typical of him when he is not training with the infantry, spends his time alone. Today, he opts to spend it in the solar. The room is large and open, with beautiful views of the scenery surrounding the palace—reds, oranges, and yellows of autumn. Warm sunlight pours in through the windows. Though this room is typically one of those spaces saved for the nobility of the palace, Yuuta has given his explicit permission for Eren’s presence. It is here that they often spend some time alone, and it is here that Eren feels most comforted in Yuuta’s absence.

Eren sits at a wooden table, seeds and berries spread before him on its surface. He smiles to himself as his companion for the afternoon—the small Valyrian bird that Yuuta had so affectionately named Vhagar—chirps away, picking at the seeds and taking apart the sweet berries with the tip of his black pointed beak.

“I stole them from the kitchen,” he snickers, pinching a berry between his fingers. “I know they aren’t as sweet as our kasta berries but I hope you like them, Vha—”

“Who are you talking to?”

Eren jolts in his seat, surprised to hear a soft feminine voice breaking through the quietude of the solar. When he looks in the voice’s direction, his eyes grow wide in surprise as he realizes he’s face-to-face with the princess. He stands from his seat immediately, as if he were a child caught doing something naughty. 

“Good afternoon, princess,” Eren says in greeting. His eyes quickly dip down to the table where Vhagar sits munching away at the seeds. Eren picks up the bird and hides it between his large palms. “I-I was just talking to myself.”

Rika giggles at his antics. She walks closer to his table, her soft lilac dress swaying with each step. She looks regal, as always,  with her long brown hair styled perfectly, and her dress ornamented with pins and beautifully stitched designs. A thin golden circlet rests on her crown just behind her bangs—a piece of jewelry to signify her status, as is custom.

“You don’t have to hide the little guy,” she says. “I’ve caught my brother talking to him too. You two spent a little too long on that island, didn’t you? Talking to birds as if they are people.”

Eren lets the bird back down to the table with a nervous laugh. “Perhaps.” As Rika comes up to stand beside him, he notices that she holds a book in her arms. “Are you here to read, Your Highness? I’m sorry if I am disturbing you.”

Rika’s smile is as charming as ever as she gestures for Eren to sit back down. Little does he know the way her heart leaps in her chest as she gets excited over the chance to finally speak to the dragon alone. She would not admit it aloud, but something about him has piqued her interest from the moment she met him. A mixture of his handsome looks and his strange mannerisms, perhaps. Or, maybe it is the fact that he is someone new to the kingdom, that she wishes to understand him, to be able to read him as easily as she can read about and understand the men in her romance novels. He’s different from all the men she’s met before—and different is interesting.

“Nonsense, Eren. Don’t worry about me. We can sit together, actually. I don’t mind.”

Eren nods, sitting back down in his seat. “Thank you, princess.”

They both sit beside each other, Rika settling comfortably into the chair as she opens the book over her lap. Eren, curious, opens his mouth to speak. “What kind of books do you read, princess?”

When she turns toward Eren, his big green eyes are so earnest and soft as he stares at her. She finds his questioning gaze really cute. Noblemen always look at her as if she were less than them, judgment and secrecy amongst other feelings radiating from them, but Eren naturally has such honest emotions in his stare. His mannerisms are incredibly endearing, even more so up close.

“U-um…” She stutters, lost in the childlike wonder held in his gaze. “I like to read a lot of romance stories… I hope that doesn’t sound too strange.”

“I wouldn’t have pinned you for a romantic, Your Highness.”

Rika quirks a brow. “And why’s that?”

“Your brother always speaks about relationships within the kingdom as if they are simply duty. It doesn’t sound like your people are very romantic.”

She giggles at his words. If any other man had spoken such a thing, it’d come across as an insult. But from Eren, it’s simply an observation. 

“Well, it is true that for people like me and my brother, we don’t have the luxury of falling in love with a person of our choosing,” Rika says it so matter-of-fact, but to Eren, hearing this fact repeated again and again always feels like a knife to the chest. “But I like to dream sometimes that one day things could be different. Reading novels feels like getting to play pretend for a little while. I think falling in love is beautiful. Even if you can’t be together, that feeling of loving another person, it’s what everyone hopes for, right? I mean… Perhaps it is just me…” She trails off, worried that she has been rambling to a man who wouldn’t care for such feeble emotions. But Eren only nods in agreement, his features expressing both understanding and sympathy.

“Does it always have to be that way? Duty over love?” Eren asks.

“I’m not sure if Yuuta has learned of this yet, but the young king of Seomor—Hajime—he recently took a commoner as his wife.” At this, Eren’s face melds into earnest surprise. Rika nods, “It wasn’t without opposition, of course. None of the nobles were happy about it. There were many noblewomen who could have married him. But he had fallen for one of the maids in the palace, and refused to take any other woman as his wife.”

“That sounds very courageous of him,” Eren replies.

“It was. He had to defy his council and reject many women’s hands to marry her. I attended their wedding last spring before I returned to Nymeria. They looked so happy as they spoke their vows. I’d never seen Hajime smile as much in all my years in Seomor than how much he did that day.” Rika smiles as she remembers the royal wedding of Hajime and his maid-turned-queen. “I wish that one day I could have that for myself… Commoner or not, I want to feel that kind of joy and love with someone.”

Eren’s eyes are trained on his fingers on the table, the fingertips brushing over one another to soothe the feelings that well up in his chest. He can’t help but remember just how happy he had been the day he had traded vows with Yuuta. Though he’s itching to say it aloud, he doesn’t. Instead, he simply says, “Yes. I wish that for you, princess. And for your brother.”

“I wish it for Yuuta too… But soon he will be crowned. I’m not sure if it can be helped, Eren. Since I won’t be the crowned heir anymore, I hope that maybe Yuuta will let me delay it for a while longer. He’s promised me he won’t force me to wed… Yuuta’s such a kind brother,” Rika smiles fondly. “I have hopes… Yuuta does not have much of a say in his betrothal but… there’s hope for me, I think.”

“What if your brother wanted to be like Hajime? To marry someone he shouldn’t?”

“Has he said anything like that to you?”

Eren averts his gaze from Rika’s as he lies. “No… I just… wonder…” His words fade as he looks at the table pensively.

“Hajime had to be strong-willed to do what he did. My brother, he has always been weak-hearted,” Rika replies. 

Eren frowns—he doesn’t think that Rika’s words are true at all. Eren feels as if he is the one who is weaker of the heart than Yuuta, knowing how easily he succumbs to his emotions.

She continues, “I would be surprised to hear of him defying our traditions like that, Eren.”

“I see…”

Rika reaches out toward Vhagar, smoothing one of her fingers over the soft feathers on the bird’s head. The bird chirps in delight at her touch. 

“You sound so saddened by my brother’s situation. Does it bother you?”

Eren scratches his cheek with one of his fingers, looking away to avoid her gaze once more. If there’s anything about the princess, it seems as if she always knows exactly what to say to make people nervous in her presence. At least, that is what Eren thinks, seeing how Megumi acts around her, and how he feels around her right now.

“He carries such a burden being the prince,” Eren replies. His long hair thankfully covers the heat that pools at the tips of his ears. He remembers how his mother used to often tell him that his ears would turn red when he’d lie. “I just wish for him to be happy…”

“You don’t have to be so sad for him, Eren. Yuuta is a kind man. There is no way that he wouldn’t feel love for his queen. Perhaps not at first… but he would. And any woman would love to have him as a husband. No matter who will be the Nymerian queen one day, they will cherish each other. I’m sure of it.”

Unbeknownst to her, her words only drive the knife deeper into his chest. “Right, of course. I’m sure they will.”

After a bout of silence, Rika says, “I don’t think I’ve told you before but… I’m glad my brother had your company all those years.” Eren straightens up, looking toward Rika with a curious stare. “These past six years I wondered if he was safe… or if he was even alive. I prayed for him every day.” Eren sees how her eyes waver, glistening with unshed tears at the memory. “I’m glad he’s alive but I am especially happy that he had someone like you there to care for him. Thank you for bringing him home, and for being his friend, too.”

All this time, the thought of returning to Nymeria from Valyria always made Eren full of regrets—there was nothing for him to gain from leaving the sanctuary of his island. If anything, all leaving had done was drive a wedge between him and his beloved. But seeing Rika’s emotions on display like this… Eren can see why Yuuta couldn’t stay with him in Valyria. Yuuta didn’t leave just because he felt he had to, but because there are so many people here who cared for him, and he couldn’t go on living on the island knowing that all these people worried for him. Rika would have lived her entire life thinking Yuuta was dead had they never left. The wound on her heart would have never healed, and the thought of being that selfish causes a pang of pain in Eren’s chest.

He reaches over and takes her hand into his palms. Rika, surprised, looks up at him with the softest of blushes tinting her skin. Eren is so warm, her palm feels as if it were being held over a fire. 

“I’m glad I was able to bring Yuuta back to you, princess,” Eren softly smiles. “He worried about you every day, too. I caught him praying often for your safety just as you prayed for him.”

She clears her throat, swallowing the feeling of worms crawling beneath her skin. She’d met many noblemen over the years, but never had a man caused her to feel so nervous. She looks down at his large hands, savoring their warmth.

“Thankfully, I spent the last six years in Seomor away from our father. There was fear that he would hurt us like he hurt my mother… but I was safe in Seomor.”

“Your mother… She was from Seomor, right?” Eren asks, remembering this fact when Rika speaks it aloud.

Rika’s other hand is wrapped around the spine of her book. She sets her novel down on the table. Eren releases her hand and she places both her hands over her lap as he watches her with interest. She idly smoothes down her dress—anything to keep her hands distracted from wanting to feel his warmth again. 

“Yes. My mother was a highborn lady from the kingdom of Seomor. It’s the westernmost kingdom in the realm, full of lush greenery and surrounded by beautiful beaches made of golden sand. My mother’s noble house is small—it’s a wonder my father chose to marry into it at all. But I like to think he simply married her because he loved her. My mother was quite beautiful and so kind to us. My brother, even though he looks so much like my father, he is a lot like my mother.” 

“Your brother used to say the opposite of you,” Eren recalls with a faint smile. “When he’d speak about you, he’d always say that you looked like your mother but you were way too bold like your father.”

Rika laughs. On instinct, she covers her lips with her hand—it’s more ladylike, she had been taught. 

Eren, because he had never spent time in the company of noblewomen, questions the gesture. “Why do you do that, princess?”

Rika blinks, confused. “Do what?”

“Cover your face when you laugh.” He leans in closer, and Rika’s breath hitches in her throat. “You shouldn’t hide it. Then no one can see your smile. It’s pretty.”

Rika’s stomach flips at the words, spoken with such sincerity. She immediately opts to deflect the conversation, to soothe her nerves and warming cheeks.

“H-has my brother taught you much about the other kingdoms at all? I-I can tell you a bit about each of them.”

Eren ponders the question, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, sometimes he would talk about them when we were in Valyria, but it was hard for me to picture them. The island was all I knew. I didn’t understand something as vast as a kingdom when all I knew were villages and forests.”

“Well, Nymeria is the kingdom farthest to the east. Then to the northwest is what was once Drican. It is part of our kingdom now after we won the war. To the southwest is Parryn, a kingdom ruled by the Yoshino clan. To the west of Parryn is Xentis, and to the west of Drican is Avahan. Avahan is ruled by the Kamo family. Xentis and its neighbor to the west, Themiscyra, are both ruled by the Zenin clan—each kingdom is ruled by one branch of the family. And to the south of Themiscyra is where my mother is from, Seomor. Their current king is the one who I mentioned before: Hajime Kashimo.”

Rika begins to fiddle with her braid as she speaks, her words tumbling out one after another in her nervousness as she rambled. Staring at the man beside her makes her stomach feel like it may cave in on itself, as if her chest is filled with nothing but warm air and butterflies. Mentally, she chastises herself at the word vomit that left her mouth. Swooning over a man feels very out of the ordinary for her, but perhaps it can’t be helped; the dragon is so different from other men she’s met before. His words never have any hidden meaning, nor does he have any motives to lie or use her. Everything he says—his feelings, his compliments—it’s all genuine from his heart.

Eren ruminates in silence for a moment before letting out a weak laugh. “Forgive me, princess, but it’ll be hard for me to remember all those names.”

“I know,” she giggles, relieved that Eren doesn’t seem to notice how he’s affecting her. “It takes time to learn them all. I’ve been studying my whole life to remember such things about the realm. Especially if I’ll have to wed a prince someday…”

Eren notices the way Rika’s smile falters toward the end of her words. He asks, “Have you met the princes from the other kingdoms yet?”

“I’ve met a lot of noblemen in Seomor but with my father’s reputation… I have yet to meet a man who offered to marry me. Well, except one. The prince of Parryn, Junpei Yoshino.”

“Did you not wish to marry him?” Eren asks Rika, surprised.

“I had met Junpei before but never with the intention to marry. Not until… Well, actually, it was just before the day that you and my brother returned. I’d always been curious about him, but once I spent more than a few minutes with him, I didn’t like him at all.” She scrunches up her nose at the memory, earning a chuckle from the dragon. “Lord Nanami had suggested the match in talks with Junpei’s father. They wanted to unite our kingdoms, since Parryn has always had a close relationship with Nymeria but… Junpei was quite… unapproachable, to put it lightly. If you and my brother hadn’t returned… I probably would’ve been preparing for a marriage ceremony as we speak.”

Rika seems so relieved once she says the last line, and Eren can’t help but smile. Eren had never had a younger sibling, and speaking with Rika now feels comforting, as if Yuuta’s younger sister were his own. Rika sees this smile, one that he displays just for her, and it makes her feel warm. Happy.

“I’m glad Yuuta’s return has made things better for you, princess. I hope that it will be as you say—that you’ll be able to marry whenever and whomever you wish.”

Silently, though every fiber of his being wishes to say it aloud, he hopes that it will be possible for Yuuta, too.

Rika is confused by the emotions she sees in his eyes. She doesn’t understand why he looks at her with both sadness yet longing. Is he wishing for that so wholeheartedly for her sake too? 

She agrees with a nod, encouraged by his words. “I do hope so too, Eren.”

***

The sounds of the Lord Commander’s boots clacking against the marble floors echo loudly off the walls with each step he takes down the familiar halls towards the emperor’s residence in the palace. The royal wing is nothing near strange territory for him—perhaps so familiar that he can paint each brick, each wooden panel, each piece of marble and tile from memory onto canvas if he ever so chose. Many moons ago, before all Nymeria’s infantry came to be under his command, these simple halls were the only kingdom he knew. Whether it was (reluctantly) gallivanting with the young prince in his youth, later trailing behind the emperor as his Sworn Protector, or even these days, with his regular visits to the emperor’s chambers as his Lord Commander, the steady, regular sound of leather soles against polished marble always sounds the same.

Most days the halls just before the king’s chambers are strictly traversed by servants and healers. Due to their fear of the Mad King and exaggerated, frightful rumors of his curse, the servants stay away from this area of the palace, scurrying like skittish mice being chased away by a predator whenever they are called upon to tend to the King. The sounds of Toji’s steps approaching the royal chambers rattle louder and louder in his ears as he approaches the heavy wooden door through the empty halls and passages, interrupting the stillness. The guards at the door, elite kingsguards under Toji’s command, nod and step aside for their commander, allowing Toji into the room.

“Good day, Lord Commander.” Toji is greeted by one of the healers with a curt, respectful nod as soon as he steps into the entryway, his heavy leather boots scraping against the wooden floorboards. 

“Maester,” Toji nods in return, a man of few words as always. His eyes quickly dart to the grand bed in the center of the room, his arms moving to remove the sword in its hilt at his side. He leaves it and its scabbard in a receptacle in the entryway as it is custom to shed his weapon when in the chambers of the king, hastily making his way across the room as the healer begins to scramble and clean up his potions and tools that were laid out at the side table.

At the king’s bedside is an armchair upholstered in dark velvety fabric trimmed with braided gold thread at its edges. The chair matches the long, opulently gold-trimmed curtains hung before each window as well as around the king’s bedposts, though now they are pulled back at the midsections with a golden rope, fringed at the end with long golden tassels. 

As Nymeria’s autumn season is beginning to show its head, the servants have lit the fireplace across from the king’s bed to keep the room warm, knowing that even with the bedsheets as thick as they are, the now frail king often suffers from chills. To the Lord Commander, the man as bulky and large-framed as he is, the room is just teetering on the edge of hot, with the scent of ginger and lycium—healing herbs—heavy in the air and deftly plugging his nose. He takes a seat in the armchair at Yuuki’s bedside regardless, prepared to weather the stifling atmosphere in order to spend this time with his closest friend.

When Toji settles into the seat and the healer scurries away, Toji finally allows his pale green eyes to take in the sight of his king: Yuuki’s laying down in bed, head propped up by feathered pillows, and his body covered with dark heavy bedsheets up to his collarbones. He’s asleep, eyes closed with dark hair framing his face, his pale lips just slightly agape. Yet, the man doesn’t snore—not anymore, not the same way that Toji used to tease him for in his youth whenever he’d catch the prince dozing away, avoiding his lessons. The Yuuki he knew back then… That cocky smile, his rosy complexion, his eagerness for sparring, jousting, and all things debauchery—that Yuuki is simply a memory, the man before him a ghost of the once so-called Gallant Prince. 

Although during the war and in the years after, Yuuki became someone whom the realm grew to fear, whom even his own subjects began to whisper rumors of madness and evil, it wasn’t always that way. Toji has known since the day he came to live in the Nymerian palace the extent of Yuuki’s kindness. Perhaps that is why, even now, Toji doesn’t feel any fear in his heart, not like the others do. He looks over at his king with a gaze heavy enough to drown in, the room in which they are both in now bringing back memories that the Lord Commander often wishes he could forget.

It was once in this very room, almost seven years ago now, that Toji saw for the first time the true extent of the spell—no, curse—that the witch had placed upon Yuuki. His descent into madness was sharp and swift; it had been no less than half a dozen months since the murder of Princess Yuuri that the Queen had followed her sister-in-law to the afterlife. Unlike Yuuri’s death, perpetrated by a foreign land bent on starting a war, Queen Haruka’s had been at the very hands of her loving husband, the king who sleeps just an arm’s reach from Toji now. Perhaps that night had been the only time that Toji had ever been afraid—not for himself, but for his king.

Yuuta, much too young to do anything but run away, had fearfully witnessed with his own two eyes the death of his mother at his father’s hands. And Toji, moments later, had seen the same fear in Yuuki’s eyes: the king’s own fear that one day he would do the same to his children. That night, as Haruka’s limp body still warmed the sheets of their bed, Yuuki’s mind, warped and damaged by the witch’s spell, knew that he was a danger to those around him. Nothing had made it more clear in his mind than the sight of his son and daughter cowering in their bedroom, hiding from him.

His first thought after his mind had cleared of the power-hungry state that it had been in, was ending his life before it could become any worse. He feared for those around him whom he cherished so dearly: his son, daughter, friends, and closest advisors. Hell, his entire kingdom. Who knows the depths of warfare and bloodshed that he would subject his kingdom to if he were willing to go as far as killing his beloved wife? He feared the monster that he had become in his quest to defeat Drican, and at that moment, had considered that the kingdom would be better off if his life were to end now before the spell could continue to rot away at his mind.

Yet, that night, before he could leave his kingdom behind to his Lord Hand and his children who were much too young to rule, Toji was there for him. Toji, his closest friend and most loyal knight, was there to convince Yuuki that they would find a cure for him. That he, even with the evil he had just committed, was worth fighting for. Though it was Toji who had always felt as if Yuuki had saved him, at that moment, it was Toji who had saved Yuuki. In the days after Yuuta and Rika were sent away, when word of Yuuta’s disappearance had reached the palace, it was Toji, along with the aid of their master of ships Lord Higuruma, who served as a rock for the king, grounding him and assuring him of Yuuta’s safe return, ensuring that Yuuki’s fragile mental state was quelled and the palace did not delve into chaos as they mounted searches by land and by sea. Amid the restoration of peace, and the loss of the kingdom’s first-born prince, Toji was there to support his king as his Lord Commander, but most importantly, as his closest friend.

Toji knows as well as Yuuki that the only reason Yuuki is still alive now, despite the toll that forbidden power took on his body, and despite the many thoughts (and attempts) that Yuuki had of taking his own life, is because of the affection Yuuki still holds for him, his family, and his kingdom. Even with his memory existing in fragments, and his body being so weak he can barely move from his bed, it is always so clear in his words and his actions that those he loves most exist at the forefront of his mind. Could a man deemed so evil by others really be the same man who still holds so much affection for them in his heart?

“Toji…”

Toji’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, his eyes previously fixated contemplatively on the bedsheets just in front of him. His eyes meet Yuuki's, an ocean of deep blue waters, just as he had always remembered them to be. There was a time when they were so dark and tumultuous, like the crashing waves of a stormy sea but that was years ago, a time when Yuuki wasn’t himself. 

“My king,” Toji bows his head. Yuuki sends him a look that Toji knows all too well. Toji adds, in a softer voice, “Yuuki.”

Yuuki begins to shuffle in bed, moving to sit up from his laying down position. Toji instantly gets off the armchair, one of his arms looping around Yuuki’s back, gently lifting him. Yuuki can’t help but let out what sounds like a chuckle, defeated, letting his friend assist him with something as simple as moving around in his own bed. There have been many times in the past where Yuuki has voiced his distaste for this situation he is in—‘it’s as if I’ve become a man more than twice my age’ he’d once said. Yet today he chooses not to comment on it.

Instead, he starts by asking Toji about himself. With a palm laid over one of Toji’s arms, his touch so cold Toji stutters upon contact, he asks, “Toji… Are you well?”

“I should be the one to ask you.” Toji takes the king’s hand, so thin and frail now, into his own palms. “I’m fine, Your Highness. It is you we worry for. Are the healers helping you feel any better?”

Yuuki’s thin, pale lips curl upwards but his expression couldn’t be further from a smile. “You know I am afflicted with… something which cannot be healed, Toji.”

A stretch of silence passes, the king’s deep breaths causing his chest to rise and fall. Toji knows better than anyone that there is no way to break Yuuki’s curse—if there were, he would have found it long ago when the witch Nobara was still within his grasp. Perhaps it is a sense of hope—or an illusion of it, more likely—that has Toji wondering if anything the healers can do would improve the king’s condition. These past years of visiting the royal chambers have never borne any fruit in that regard. But perhaps Toji’s asking is part of the formality of it all, now—less out of hopeful thinking and more out of decorum.

“Well… You look well,” Toji lies, in hopes of lifting the king’s spirits. He studies Yuuki’s face as he speaks. Except for the pallor of his skin, and the length of his hair, the thinness of his body—he’s still very much the Yuuki he’s always known. “Your hair’s gotten a bit longer—are your servants not tending to it? Or are you trying to look more like your son? It doesn’t suit you.”

At that, Yuuki genuinely laughs. “Hmm… Perhaps the latter. The Grand Maester told me… that seeing Yuuta for the first time felt as if he were seeing an apparition… that of my younger self.”

Toji, remembering when he had seen Yuuta climb off the back of a dragon, knows exactly how that felt. “He was right. Your son has always looked like you, even as a child. But perhaps even more so now that he’s a man in his own right.”

“How is he? My son?” Yuuki asks, shuffling in bed to sit higher up against his headboard. Toji sits straighter, lifting a heavy boot to cross one ankle over the other. “He does not frequent my chambers… as much as I’d like him to.”

“You would have never guessed he was living on an island but a month ago. He’s smart, tactful even.” Yuuki grins then, relieved. “He’s already caught up on much of the politics and relationships with the other kingdoms in the realm, and he’s already acting on your behalf during meetings with your council. The prince is quite…” he pauses as he searches for the words. “Calm and level-headed, I’d say. Not like a certain little pig-headed prince I once knew.”

Yuuki chuckles—a laugh so thin you’d miss it if you weren’t familiar with his weakened gestures. 

“Of course… He is Haruka’s son, after all,” Yuuki murmurs, to which Toji shakes his head.

“You forget what a brilliant king you once were, Yuuki.” Yuuki blinks back at Toji’s words, listening intently. “I remember the day you told your queen just how much you cared for your family and your kingdom—and that you’d do anything for their prosperity. I think your son is just the same. He cares for our kingdom, much like you do.”

Yuuki’s gaze travels to his hands in his lap, his hands that in his mind are so disgustingly tainted with blood and all the evil things he’d done. But they were all done in the name of his kingdom. “I’m glad that… there is at least one man who still… thinks so highly of me…”

“Try not to let that big head of yours grow any bigger now.”

Yuuki turns toward Toji and sees fondness in his gaze. Toji’s always looked at him the same, no matter what they’d been through over the years, and the thought warms his heart immensely. Even if Toji never puts words to it, even if his words are laced with thin insults and sarcastic jabs, the look in his eyes has always been enough to reveal the truth.

“I often hope that… one day my son will have someone as devoted as you are, Toji…”

At his words, Toji crosses his arms over his chest, turning his face to hide the flames of embarrassment that begin to creep up his face. “I’m just speaking truthfully, Your Highness.”

Yuuki laughs entirely too hard at Toji’s flustering, enough that he has to pause to cough and clear his throat. Concern quickly takes over Toji’s features, but Yuuki simply holds up a shaky palm to quell the question poised on Toji’s tongue.

“You were never one… to be honest about your feelings… were you?”

Toji avoids the question. If it’s out of embarrassment, or out of fear of putting words to the feelings they’ve never discussed aloud, he wouldn’t dwell on it. “I do think your son has someone who will dedicate himself beyond just a knight’s oath. The dragon who brought him here, he’s been placed as my esquire. I’ve heard it for myself—that he says he is willing to die for the prince. He seems like he means it honestly.”

“Ah…” Yuuki smiles. Those words are not too far off from Toji’s vow, so many decades ago now. “Has he… taken the oath?”

“Not yet, but I think by the time of the ceremony, he’ll be ready.”

The ceremony, which looms over everyone’s mind these days, is a reference to Yuuta’s coronation ceremony as the crowned prince and Yuuki’s heir, which is set to occur in a few weeks’ time. It is at his ceremony, just like his father’s, that his set of kingsguards will be appointed. Any soldiers set to be promoted to knights will do so by being knighted by their newly crowned prince, as is custom. And though Eren has only been part of their infantry for a mere couple of weeks, his strength combined with his experience and his ‘special circumstances’, as previously discussed by the council, have left little room for doubt that he will be selected for the kingsguard. At least, that was the intention when the council had granted Eren permission to join the infantry at the last meeting.

“I wish I could be there… to see the ceremony…”

At this, Toji’s eyes widen in surprise. “What? Do you mean you won’t be in attendance?”

Yuuki gestures towards his lap, as if the answer was so obviously written across his body. “In this condition..?”

“But your subjects, the crowned princes and nobles of the realm—they’ll all be in attendance. You have to—”

“I won’t.” Yuuki’s words are stern, even with the weak timbre of his voice. Final. “What will they say… about the Mad King’s first public appearance since… since…” His words trail off, and Toji knows exactly what it is that Yuuki wishes to say. Since I killed my wife. “I don’t want… my son’s crown to be… tainted by my hands… I wish for him to be crowned… without me.”

“Yuuki…” Toji looks for any doubt in Yuuki’s eyes but finds none. This has to be something Yuuki has thought about for quite some time, as it is tradition for the current emperor to crown his heir. To forego this tradition… the guilt that Yuuki feels seems insurmountable. And Toji knows that Yuuki’s sins are not something that his words alone could erase, much less ease. He needs to earn forgiveness, not from him, but from his children whom he feels so strongly that he wronged.

“Wouldn’t it be better for him to understand you?” Toji tries to reason. “He was a kid back then. He doesn’t know why you took that spell. He’s naive still—he hasn’t learned anything of war. All of this… It was all because of this war. Because of that curse.” The last two words are spat out from behind gritted teeth.

“No, Toji… It was I who was too foolish… who ignored her warnings… who coveted power above all… It’s my fault… entirely my fault that this happened… that my children… hate me. I deserve it… for what I’ve done.”

“I think if he understood you, he would forgive you.” 

He hears Toji's words, yet, all Yuuki remembers is his first meeting with his son, how Yuuta had said that he didn’t know if he ever could forgive, much less forget what Yuuki had done. 

“I don’t expect his forgiveness… I just wish to absolve him of what I'd done… It is my wish, Toji… for Yuuta to become king… of his own right. Not in my shadow… it is what’s best for the kingdom… for him.”

A bout of silence passes, before Toji chuckles, breaking Yuuki from his wallowing reverie.

“What is it?” Yuuki asks.

“Good luck telling lazy bastard Nanami that he’ll have to be the one to crown your son.”

Yuuki join Toji in his mirth, laughing at the thought. Nanami, not one to perform unnecessary duties, would loathe having to be at the forefront of such a ceremony. Speaking of Nanami, Yuuki recalls a recent conversation he had had with the Lord Hand. Well, recent in his mind, which is clouded with misplaced memories. He says, “The Gods know that… Lord Nanami already has his hands full with my daughter… rejecting the hand from Crowned Prince Yoshino…”

Toji leans back against the chair, a sigh leaving his lips. Just the mention of the princess eases whatever thick air of tension had previously settled in the room when speaking of the coronation. Toji’s grateful for the change of subject. “Yes… I think perhaps the years away have made her forget her role in our kingdom. That, or the princess is simply as stubborn as a mule.”

“Is that so?” Yuuki shouldn’t be amused at the insult his daughter had unintentionally made at their neighbor and long-time trade partner, but he is. He, as the king, could force his hand; he could be enraged with his daughter for declining such an advantageous union. Instead, his eyes still sparkle with warmth. “Well… courting a woman is more interesting when… there is a challenge involved… I’ve always thought that… stubbornness can be charming.”

“I wonder where she got such a trait from,” Toji muses, his eyes wandering until they land upon Yuuki’s. It is not lost on him the way Yuuki’s lingering affection for his wife can still be heard in his voice, how it glimmers in his eyes.

Yuuki can’t help but smile faintly when their eyes meet. “Maybe she gets it from her mother.”

Toji chuckles softly. The sarcasm drips off his tongue when he replies, “Maybe.”

Yuuki suddenly becomes solemn again, his voice hushed as he asks, “Toji?”

“Yes?”

“You… and your son Megumi… protect her… She was lucky that Parryn had been… so gracious and forgiving. Another kingdom… they may not take such an insult lightly. She might have been too young to remember… just how dangerous these politics can be.”

Toji’s eyes widen at the King’s words. He knows, having experienced what tragedy had fallen upon the kingdom, why Yuuki says this to him. The last thing anyone in this kingdom would ever want is for Rika’s fate to be that of the late Princess Okkotsu.

“Of course, we will. The prince and the princess are both under my protection. So long as I am Lord Commander nothing will happen to them. I promise you.”

Toji’s words help quell the uneasy feeling in Yuuki’s chest—brewing, yet unexplainable. He smiles at his longtime friend as he lays back down against his bedding, weary from such long conversation. It’s a miracle Yuuki was as talkative as he just was, Toji thinks, resigning himself to the plush cushions of his chair. Yuuki’s eyelids grow heavy. His last words before he succumbs to exhaustion come out as a murmur: 

“Thank you, Toji.”

***

Tags: @brujaovermoxy @aki-and-saltfish @starry-supernova @itsalicewickedmcgee @jaeger-xo @whore4jean @broken-freedom @raechulashleigh @fqiryspit 

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! or hit notifications for the blog <3

[book-of-baba-fett]

OC Appreciation June 2022

A huge thank you to everyone who submitted OCs! This post wouldn't be possible without you. Feel free to share, and check out all the great OC content below the cut!

* indicates 18+/NSFW Content. If you notice a NSFW fic is not tagged as such, please let me know and I will edit.

✨ Nat's Recs - some of my own personal favorites

Fanfiction:

✨Across the Stars* by @djarrex (OCs -Priya, Gelissa, and Garran Gayiyla)

The Bad Batch: Trespass by @shadestepping (Multiple OCs)

Bonsoir* by @kaminocasey (OC - Cassia Nu aka Cash)

✨ By Any Other Name* & What Blooms in Thunder* by @rowansparrow (Clone OC - Rose/Gol'Chek, Nautolan OC - Quill, Human OCs Athena and Kiran, Garbak (Original Species) OC - Ju'Lah.)

✨Call Me Home * by @twistedstitcher27 (Jedi OC - Orr'Sinda Perth)

Call the Twi'Lek Midwife* by @ficsnooneaskedfor (OCs - Citali, Melita, Izel)

The Clone Wars Gets a New Victim by @thechaoticfanartist (Jedi OC - Grim)

The Duty of a Captain by @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life (Clone OC - Doc)

✨From Where We Stand* by @djarrex (OC - Ahri)

✨ Halo* by @rowansparrow (Nautolan OC - Quill, Human OCs Athena and Kiran, Garbak (Original Species) OC - Ju'Lah, Clone OC Rose/Gol'Chek.)

✨ The Hunt* by @moonstrider9904 (OC - Rose)

Illicit Affairs by @book-of-baba-fett (Jedi OC - Talia Riva, Clone OC - Captain Storm)

Insatiable* (Game of Thrones series) by @starwarslove16

Moonwalker* by @moonstrider9904 (OC- Sarah Adhara)

Not Saying Much by @clydesducktape (OC - Sola Korraay-Gideon)

One Step at a Time by @wild-karrde (Clone OC - Chuckles, Twi'lek OC - Arni, Pantoran OC - Nita)

Paradigm Shift (The Bad Batch/Expanse crossover) by @eyecandyeoz (OC - Emilia Chatham)

Pieces by @teletraan-meets-jarvis (OC - Issa Straun)

A Prince of Dathomir* by @kimageddon (Nightsister OC Zaiya Valessa, Mandalorian OC - Adaji Treshan)

✨Starlit Murder by @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi (Pantoran OC - Kau'ra)

Stars in Their Multitudes by @jedi-valjean (Multiple OCs, feat - Com Narcom, Koss, Aberon Halmath, Kaltha, Tarkay, Leela, Korma, Sister Risuno, Unal Munir, Broque.)

Sins of the Father by @kimageddon

Artwork:

✨82nd Darkwatch Platoon by @zoruui

Ailani Réillata by @queen-breha-organa: Ailani in the Beach Dress by @gimmeyoursnacks Ailani Sketches by @maybe-murphy Ailani at Sunset by @d3epfriedangels ✨

✨Amaya by @amikoroyaiart

✨Cala by @thefact0rygirl, art by @maygalodon

✨Cherise by @cyarbika, headshot by @calamity-aims, art by @maulpunk

Captain Storm by @book-of-baba-fett, art by @elledjarin

✨Chad by @milfreva (there is literally so much Chad art and I love it all)

Dara Idella by @spacerocksarethebestrocks

✨Eya by @galacticgraffiti, art by @pinkiemme, art by @sar-arts

✨Kau'ra by @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi, Starlit Murder fanart by @kimageddon

Lena Orim by @ilikemymendarkandfictional, art by @rebekahs-art

✨Locks and Urudyk by @cyareclones

Mari Gildow by @penguinkiwi

Omura Vane by @certified-anakinfucker

✨Priya Gayiyla by @djarrex, with Papa Rex by @howie-ner-cyare

Quill Cawthon by @rowansparrow, art by @space-b33

Sola Koraay-Gideon by @clydesducktape, moodboard for Not Saying Much by @princessxkenobi

Talia Riva by @book-of-baba-fett, character concept art by @deliahscrush2003 art by @elledjarin, by @deliahscrush2003, art by @space-b33

Creator Spotlight:

This section is for some OC creators in general - folks who share OC appreciation/have too many cool OCs to list them all here.

@ailani-reillata

@arrthurpendragon

@cyareclones

@circadianx

@darth-caillic

@deliahscrush2003

@eyecandyeoz

@findswoman

@justalittletomato

@just-some-girl-92

@kimageddon

@kote-wan

@milfreva

@moonstrider9904

@night-watch-trespass

@purgetrooperfox - Leo deactivated but I got so many shoutouts for their OCs and couldn't link anything but still needed to shout them out.

@rowansparrow

@wild-karrde

[mylesimeblr]

I'm already 12 pages into that Game of Thrones Byler crossover. I wanted to write it "M rated" and I tried to write "mild dialogues" and in the end I'm already going full Tyrion Lannister mode. I had this "reader" yesterday who told me that there was something deeply wrong with me. And yeah, maybe there is. But fuck, I like that.

Sometimes, Mike stayed far into the night, after all the other clients had either gone home or paid the services of a slave. There were times Will went off with clients too and Mike’s heart grew heavy with pain, especially when Will was followed by several soldiers. There were times, Will stayed, cleaning the tables as Mike finished his pinte, just the two of them. Steve was never far but when it was so late, he had duties of his own that called him away.

“You’re from Dorne, right?” Mike asked, watching the slave wipe ale stains from the wood.

“I was born in a village near Sunspear, yes,” Will answered and it was strange talking to him without games.

“Do you remember it?”

Will shook his head, “Not much. I was sold by my father when I was nine so I was pretty young when I came here.”

Mike nodded, “I was sold too. General Tarly saw me at the Market and took me to work for the Lannister army as a stable boy.”

Will stopped wiping his table and gave him a small knowing smile, “I was found at the Market too. Lord Baelish saw me and bought me to bring me here.”

Mike swallowed. They didn’t say it but they knew. It all came to meeting one person, one day. Had they met the other one, on another day, they could have been each other’s substitute. His brain suddenly conveyed the image of the boys carried around in the cart leading to the King’s Landing slave market that day, all those years ago. Through the fog of memory, he saw a young boy with caramel skin and big green eyes, sitting across the bench, hands tied and his heart grew heavy again. What were the odds, indeed.

“Where were you from, before King’s Landing?” Will suddenly asked, taking the image of small Will away.

Mike blinked, confused, “I don’t remember.”

[koorinohebi]

Revamped Tags

So I remade my long-ass list of tags. They are under the cut because long. Anyway, I'm also going to remake my current shipping tags because I think they need to be revamped as well. So if you want a ship tag with Kiomi or any of the muses of this blog, feel free to like this post. Only requirement is that our muses have interacted.

=== Mun Tags ===

Beyond the Bounded Field || OOC Craft Essence || Commissioned Piece Limelight || Commission Drawing Board || My Art

=== General Purpose Tags ===

⩤ Throne of Heroes ⩥ Gallery ⩤ Unprompted ⩥ ⩤ Starter ⩥ ⩤ The Meme ⩥ ⩤ HQ Report : Dash Comm ⩥ ⩤ Simulation Room : Dash Games ⩥ ⩤ The Grind : Memes and Games ⩥ ⩤ Order Restored : Answered ⩥ ⩤ Dailies : Anon ⩥ ⩤ Attention : PSA ⩥ ⩤ Mystic eyes of .Crack. Perception ⩥ ⩤ tw : ⩥ ⩤ Inbox Call ⩥ ⩤ Preparing to Rayshift : Queue ⩥ ⩤ Take my Hand : Wishlist ⩥ ⩤ Drums of War : Music ⩥ ⩤ War Council : P . R . O . M . O. ⩥ ⩤ Loyalties : P.r.o.m.o ⩥ ⩤ Stashed ⩥ ⩥ Cont'd from x

=== Muse Tags ===

⩤ Blog Shenanigans ⩥ ⩤ Muse Commentaries ⩥ ⩤ Visage ⩥ ⩤ Saint Graph : Headcanons ⩥ ⩤ Battle Records : Aesthetics ⩥ ⩤ To each their own reveries : Musings ⩥ ⩤ Chaldea Lunchtime : Conversations ⩥ ⩤ Interlude : Drabbles ⩥

⩤ To each their own devices : Kiomi ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Kamo Serizawa ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Mitsuhide Akechi ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Takechi Zuizan ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Tanaka Shinbei ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Chen Gong ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Okuni ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Lanlan Fang ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Major Magatsu ⩥ ⩤ To each their own devices : Major Reiter ⩥ ⩤ Echoes : Guest Muse ⩥

=== Verse Tags ===

⩤ Singularities : Main ⩥ ⩤ Remnants : AU ⩥ ⩤ Event Horizon : Crossovers ⩥

=== Friend Tags (Ever growing) ===

Arai-chan ⩤ Sarutobi Arai : Sister-in-Arms ⩥

Assortedsnacks ⩤ Touken Danshi : Kikkou Sadamune ⩥

Aurivore ⩤ Gilgamesh : Majesty Defined ⩥ ⩤ Kogil : Decadent Exuberance ⩥

Caemthe ⩤ Demon King of the Sixth Heaven : Oda Nobunaga ⩥

Gemsofchaldea ⩤ Jack : A Child Beloved ⩥ ⩤ Da Vinci-Chan : The Universal Beauty ⩥

Getsuruito ⩤ Momochi Tanba : The Great Ninja Master ⩥ ⩤ Pang Tong : The Fledgling Phoenix ⩥

Historias-Multorum ⩤ Hinata Hyuuga : Delicate Breeze ⩥ ⩤ Tsunade : Densetsu no Hime ⩥ ⩤ Izuna ⩥ ⩤ Shizune ⩥

Homeport ⩤ Sakamoto Ryouma : The Miracle Worker ⩥ ⩤ The Evil Mastermind : Takasugi Shinsaku ⩥ ⩤ Hizen Tadahiro : The Sharpest Edge ⩥

Kiicho ⩤ Kicho : Enchanting Pearl of Mino ⩥ ⩤ Nohime : Ties Severed ⩥ (Mitsuhide)

Lovedloyalty ⩤ A Saber Among Shadows : Okada Izo ⩥ ⩤ Alter Ego : Okada Izo ⩥ ⩤ Mori Nagayoshi : Blood Soaked Loyalty ⩥ ⩤ Beowulf : The Grendel Buster ⩥ ⩤ Leonidas : The King of Sparta ⩥ ⩤ Phantom : Angel of Music ⩥ ⩤ Shuichi : Spiral Bound ⩥ ⩤ Mephistopheles : Deals with the Devil ⩥

⩤ Hitokiri Izo : Hound of the Kinnoto ⩥ (Tosa) ⩤ Okada Izo : The Ghost of Tosa ⩥ (Redline) ⩤ Mori Nagayoshi : Demon of the Battlefield ⩥ (Blog Servants, Redline) ⩤ Old Man Li : Old and Strong ⩥ (Blog Servants, Redline)

Moonlightmagus ⩤ Yuuki : Friends Forever ⩥ ⩤ Na'amah : A Demon Dancing through Emotions ⩥

Mysticallities ⩤ Tristan : A vicious fairy knight ⩥ ⩤ Strange Amalgamation : Rintsuka ⩥ ⩤ Liber : The Ancient Arbitrator ⩥

Nobuverse ⩤ Chacha : A Radiance of Warmth ⩥ ⩤ Nobunaga Oda : The Avenging Fool of Owari ⩥ ⩤ Summer Nobunaga : Blazing Rockstar! ⩥ ⩤ Nagao Kagetora : The Dragon of Echigo ⩥ ⩤ Lancer Class : Mei Fan ⩥

⩤ Nobunaga Oda : Enemy at Honnouji ⩥ (Mitsuhide)

Nulltune ⩤ Hakuno : Shards of Moonlight ⩥

Madamhatter ⩤ Sophie : A Dutiful Heart ⩥

Soulsbetrayed ⩤ Avenger Class : Izou the Manslayer ⩥ ⩤ Touken Danshi : Tensho Koshirae ⩥ ⩤ Hosokawa Gracia : Beloved ⩥

Spookums ⩤ Witching Hour : Gabriella ⩥

Summoned-Anima ⩤ Ashiya Douman : The Humble Priest? ⩥

Super-Kame-Love ⩤ Aina Kichida : The Turtle Sage ⩥

Tenkoseiensei ⩤ Assassin Class : Yan Qing the Wingman ⩥

[marshallfluffrandomimagines]

Masterlist

Imagines:

A Knight’s Tale:

Count Adhemar:

Not as bad as you seem

No Pairings: 

Being Will’s best friend and Adhemar insults you

Will Thatcher:

Idiots in Loves

Assassins Creed:

La Volpe:

Ezio winds up La Volpe

You’re in trouble

Big Hero 6:

Crossovers with Doctor Who:

Baymax travelling with 10

Deflated Baymax and 9

Braveheart:

Stephen:

Hamish’s little sister

Buffy The Vampire Slayer: 

All the Scoobies:

Getting Drunk

Giles:

Scaring Giles

No Pairing:

Spike’s Best Friend

Spike:

Little Marshmallows

Call of Duty:

No pairing:

TF141 Sniper

Criminal Minds:

Hotch:

Call of Duty

Stressful Day

Doctor Who:

9th Doctor:

Wedding Date

Hugs

10th Doctor:

Seeing you in a dress

12th Doctor:

Irish vs Scottish

Jealousy

Big Hero 6 Crossover:

Travelling with 10

Deflated Baymax with 9

Thick of It Crossover:

Jaime and 12

Downton Abbey:

Lord Grantham:

At Ease

Dragon Age:

Sebastian Vael:

To the rescue

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them:

Newt Scamander:

Meeting Newt

Percival Graves:

Being Percival’s friend and Grindelwald’s niece

Firefly:

Jayne Cobb:

Talk to Me

Game of Thrones:

Beric Dondarrion:

Protecting You

Bronn of the Blackwater:

Chivalry

Daario Naharis:

Since Childhood

Protecting You

Daenerys Stormborn:

Bad Day

Jaime Lannister:

Captured by Robb

Smile

Jaqen H’ghara:

Can’t Let Go

Jon Snow:

Answering the Call

Ghost Listens

King’s Landing Attack

Jorah Mormont:

Protection

The Fighting Pits

Jory Cassel:

Lannister Guards

Lord of the Rings Crossover:

Aragorn threatens Joffrey

Aragorn fights Jaime

Eomer and Jaqen

Ned and Aragorn are friends

No Pairing:

Fishing with Tywin

Loras comes out to you

Loras defends your honour

Making Barristan and Jorah laugh

Ned’s sister

Protective Barristan

Robb’s gift

Robb’s younger sister

Tyrion’s drinking buddy

Your own direwolf

Oberyn Martell:

Defending your honour

Rickon Stark:

In Time

Robb Stark:

Being a Targaryen

Roose Bolton:

Speechless

Tywin Lannister:

Drunk Tywin

Soft Side

Grey’s Anatomy:

Mark Sloan:

Flirting fail

Harry Potter:

Alastair Moody:

Faces

Draco Malfoy:

Nice

See you again

George Weasley:

The Ball

Harry Potter:

Pumpkin Juice

Hermione Granger:

The Ball

James Potter:

Your Birthday

Minerva McGonagall:

Bludger

Pranks with Peeves

No Pairing:

Being a Slytherin

Dumbledore wins the bet

Dumbledore’s got style

New Years

Pranking the Marauders

Remus gives up on you and Sirius

Remus is a little shit

Reuniting with Sirius and Remus

Sirius loses a bet to McGonagall

The Marauders protecting you

Oliver Wood:

Shy

Remus Lupin:

Chocolate

Getting sassy with Sirius

Marauder’s Map

Stealing his chocolate

Sirius Black:

Confession

Pleading

Stealing your tea

Studying

Severus Snape:

Covering for you

Tom Marvolo Riddle:

Attack on Hogwarts

House MD:

Greg House:

In Love

No Pairing:

Being a Duckling

Break up, Cheer up

Wilson’s daughter

Justified:

Boyd Crowder:

Trust Me

Crush

Raylan Givens:

A date

Les Miserables:

Javert:

Ten Years

Laughing

Lord of the Rings:

Aragorn:

Rohan

Eomer:

Dance

Game of Thrones Crossover:

Aragorn threatens Joffrey

Aragorn fights Jaime

Eomer and Jaqen 

Ned and Aragorn are friends

Legolas:

First thing

No Pairing:

Lucifer:

Lucifer Morningstar:

Guard of Hell

Magnificent Seven:

Goodnight Robicheaux:

First time in 5 years

Marvel:

Clint Barton:

Last Arrow

No Pairing:

Steve instantly likes you but..

Taking sides in the Civil War

Pietro Maximoff:

Healing

Tony Stark:

Jealous

The Gala

Merlin:

Gwaine:

Tavern Brawl

No Pairing:

Merlin’s best friend

Midsomer Murders:

Ben Jones:

Showing off

No Pairing:

My Original Stories:

Gods of the Guardians:

Information about the Gods

Cetia:

Welcoming you home

Ecses:

Dragon Riding

Hirnas:

Loyalty

Iborh:

I Know

Kiro:

Meeting Kiro

Laoch:

King of the Gods

Lierr:

Anger

Martuc:

A Friend

Orion:

God of Love in love

Pydite:

Sarcasm

Rimos:

Earned

Sirius:

Shy

Tumenar:

Showing off

Outlander:

Dougal MacKenzie:

Listens to you

Phantom of the Opera:

Erik Destler:

Dancing with a Phantom

No Pairing:

Red Dead Redemption: 

Arthur Morgan:

Saving you

No Pairing:

Rookie Blue:

Nick Collins:

Andy’s best friend

No Pairing:

Oliver’s partner

Sharpe:

Arthur Wellesley:

Arthur finds out

Ben Perkins:

Daniel Hagman:

No Pairing:

Meeting Wellesley

Sharpe’s best friend

Patrick Harper:

Sharpe’s sibling

Richard Sharpe:

Sherlock:

Greg Lestrade:

A dress

Confessions

Press Conference

No Pairing:

A Holmes’ cousin

Studying

Sherlock Holmes:

Buckingham

The scarf

Sons of Anarchy:

Chibs Telford:

David Hale’s friend

No Pairing:

Chibs and Tig are children

Tig Trager:

Trouble

Spartacus:

Spartacus:

Smiling

No Pairing:

Star Trek:

No Pairing:

Picard hears a good idea

Star Wars: 

Lando Calrissian:

Han’s younger sibling

Suits: 

Crossover: 

Neal Caffrey’s sibling

Supernatural:

Balthazar:

Shower

Your Wings

Castiel:

Meeting

Gabriel:

Act Natural

Assumptions

Doctor

Wings

Lucifer:

Shy

No Pairing:

Balthazar’s friend

Teen Wolf:

Bobby Finstock:

Crush

Chris Argent:

Recovering

Derek Hale:

Derek’s crush

Protection

Deucalion:

For You

Hospital Visit

Isaac Lahey:

Anchor

Date

Return to Beacon Hills

No Pairing:

Free Period

Theo thinks you’re useless

Theo thinks you’re useless part 2

The wild hunt

Trust

Peter Hale:

Blue eyes

Favourite song

Pain

Stiles finds out

Stiles Stilinski:

Hugs

Nogitsune is worried

The Dollars Trilogy (Western):

Colonel Douglas Mortimer (For a Few Dollars More):

Startling

Joe (A Fistful of Dollars):

Trying to impress

The Flash:

Earth 2 Harrison Wells:

Like a fungus

No Pairing:

Noping out of the situation

The Hobbit:

Bard:

Teaching

Bofur:

Singing with Bofur

Dwalin:

Bilbo’s sister

No Pairing:

Thorin and Dwalin make an agreement

Thranduil:

First Sight

The Hunger Games:

Haymitch Abernathy:

The Peacekeepers

The Thick of It:

Crossover with Doctor Who:

Jaime travels with 12

Jaime McDonald:

Jaime acting odd

Malcolm Tucker:

Cake

Soft Spot

No Pairing:

Teasing the boyfriend

Teasing Malcolm

The Walking Dead:

Daryl Dixon:

Saving You

Shane Walsh:

Pulled over

Twilight:

Emmett Cullen:

Self-defense

Garrett:

Redcoats

Jacob Black:

Alpha

No Pairing:

White Collar:

Crossover: 

Neal Caffrey’s sibling

Drabbles:

Prompts:

Feel free to pick from these prompts if you’d like any drabbles and to give me a pairing

Romantic Prompts 1

[fanpom-imagines]

Masterlist

DCEU (also comics)

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Kingsman

Knives Out (2019)

Lord of The Rings Trilogy

MCU (Including: Deadpool, Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse & X-Men included)

Now You See Me

Star Trek (Reboots)

Star Wars (Including Rogue One and Han Solo Movie)

The Hobbit Trilogy

The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (2015)

American Gods

Band of Brothers (2002)

Bates Motel

BBC Sherlock

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Doctor Who

DC Comics (Young Justice, Animations, Titans & Doom Patrol, Arrow, The Flash, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, also comics)

Elite

Game of Thrones

Generation Kill (2008)

Hollywood (2020)

MCU (Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Iron Fist & Punisher)

My Babysitters a Vampire

NBC Hannibal

Peaky Blinders

Stranger Things

Supernatural

Teen Wolf

The Pacific (2010)

The Witcher

Turn: Washington’s Spies

Umbrella Academy

Assassin’s Creed (1, Ezio Trilogy, 3, Black Flag, Unity, & Syndicate)

Batman Arkham Series

BioShock Series

Call of Duty (MW, MW2, BO 2, Ghosts, WWII, & Infinite Warfare)

Detroit: Become Human

Dragon Age Series

Fallout (3, 4, & New Vegas)

Far Cry (5)

Mass Effect Series

Outer Worlds

Red Dead Redemption 2

The Elder Scrolls (Oblivion & Skyrim)

The Witcher 2 & 3

Red vs Blue

I will do smuts and crossovers. 

I will NOT do things related to rape, self-harm, underages sexual activity and things related to these topics (message me if you have questions about it). 

Just understand that I’m not comfortable with some topics and others aren’t as well. 

Also just because I have done imagines for a fandom it does not mean I do them anymore. 

I also don’t do real people just the characters or people actors may portray.

And last, but not least the gifs I post are never mine I just find them on google images. 

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter12

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnigs: a bit of angst

Words: 2,377

It’s have been a month since I had arrived to Rivendell. The city was beautiful, with her large waterfall and gorgeous flowers, that made the air smell flowery and fresh. The elves here were more kind and patients than in Mirkwood, letting Drogon fly free in the city and pet him like he was a dog. They said that with Drogon here, they feel safer, after hearing of what me and him did to smaug and to the army of gundabad orcs.

A sigh fell from my lips, sitting comfortably on my balcony. I smile as I see Drogon fly by, making the elflings follow him and giggling when he let out a small roar. He’s really happy here...

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft knock on my door, “Come in!” I say, putting the book that I had on my lap, on the little table in front of me.  

The door open and I saw a golden hairy head peeking. A giggle escape from me and roll my eyes “Come in, Glorfindel!” I hear him chuckle and closing the door. He walks to me and picks my hand, giving a soft kiss “You look lovely, Mellon nin!” he says with a warm voice, I roll my eyes and invite him to sit with me “What’s bring you here, Balrog slayer?” I ask him with a smirk.  

The children of Lord Elrond have told me the tales of Glorfindel, that he’s from the first age, that came from the blessed lands to Middle-Earth with the Noldor elves and how he died protecting his people against a Balrog.  

I must say that I was shocked when I found out how old he is. Glorfindel had been through so much and yet he still smiles and laughs like a summer child, bringing happiness to everyone around him.

He looks to the sky “I’ve come to see how you doing...and to ask you for a walk in the woods? I know a spot really beautiful beside the waterfall!”  the enthusiasm in his voice and the sparkles in his eyes made me laugh a little. Oh Gods! He looks like a child...So Adorable.

I nod and look to the beautiful view in front of me “I would love too!” I said with a giggle. Glorfindel stood up and offer me his hand “Then let’s go, My Lady! Before the sun go down.” I grab his hand and let him lead me out of my chambers to the woods.

When we arrive to the spot, my eyes widened as I saw the view from the waterfalls. It was stunning! I could see all the city from here, seeing little black dots that was the elves walking around, doing they duties.

I turn to Glorfindel with a huge smile “It’s incredible!” I say in awe, he chuckles and sit down on the warm grass “I knew it that you would like it. Come! Sit with me.” I do as he says and sit beside him, feeling the warm light touch my skin and hearing the sound of the water falling down.  

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes. Letting my body and soul melt into the nature around me. I could stay a thousand years here...

After a while of begin in comfort silence, Glorfindel lets out a little cough “I come here to clear my mind...to escape from the horrors of middle-earth.” he says quietly. I look to him, letting him talk “Since the Valar had send me again to middle-earth, my heart has been empty...remembering all the wars, the death that i saw...and the friends that i lost.” he took a deep breath and look to the view in front of us “I thought that i shouldn't be here...that i failed to protect my best friend...but they grant me a second change, to guide and protect the last of the Noldor.” I saw a small tear falling down his soft cheek.  

I pull his hand to my lap and gave a little squeeze, trying to comfort him. He looks down to me and smiled warmly to me “Just remember that maybe the gods had grant you also a second change too...Here you could live a new life...maybe form a family, expanding your House.” I look down, with frown on my face. Maybe he’s right...This is my second change to live a normal life.

We stay there the rest of the day, in a comfort silence, admiring the view and the nature around us. And as the sun was going down, we hear the sound of hooves running towards us.  

Glorfindel jump in front of me, grabbing his sword but he relaxes as we see that was only Lindir “What are you doing here, Lindir?” he asks confused, putting his sword back on his waist “Lady Daenys! My Lord Elrond asks for to come to his office!” Weird...

I nod and mounted on his horse, riding fast to Rivendell.

                                                    ~~~~~~~~

I knock softly on the wood door, “Come in” Elrond say with a firm voice. Walking in, I saw him sitting behind his desk, who greets me warmly, but a shadow in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention.  

I turn my head and saw Gandalf standing near the fireplace, smoking his pipe “Gandalf!” I say a while jumping to his arms. How I missed him!

He starts laughing and kiss my forehead “I see that are liking the elves. Before you were in Mirkwood and now in Rvendell, next you have to visit Lothlorien!” he says with a chuckle. Hmm...it would be nice to go to Lothlorien.

I look to Elrond “If I may, why did you ask for me that has seems so urgent?” I ask a while sitting on the chair beside the fire. He stood up from his desk and walk to us “There something that you need to know, Daenys...Gandalf if you mind?” he says a while motion to Gandalf move forward.  

Gandalf sit in the chair beside me and pull a bag, posing in front of me “Well...a few months ago, I was on my way to the Shire, visiting master Baggins. When I pass by the place that I’ve found you, a bright light shows up there...I stop the wagon and run there.” he looks down to the bag with a serious look. What’s in that bag? I begin feeling weird, like something in that bag was calling for me “When the light went out, three strange eggs stood there in the grass.” with that he opens the bag and a gasp escape from my lips. It’s not possible!  

Inside the bag was three small dragon eggs, two of them were orange and one was all black. I pick one egg, “How is this possible? There shouldn't be more dragon eggs!” I whisper to myself, Gandalf and Elrond look to each other, “Are those dragon eggs from your world?” Elrond asks me with a serious voice.  

A small tear falls down my cheek, I nod to them and pull the rest of the eggs out of the bag, putting them on my lap. There is still hope...I could build the House Targaryen here! A new life as Glorfindel said.

Gandalf put his hand on mine and looks to with a serious face “Daenys!...Do you know to hatch them?” I nod and smile “Yes!...But I need time. If you mind, I will return to my chambers. I need to think.” they nod and gave me a little bow.

I stood up and walk out of the room, remembering the tales that my mother told about how she hatches her dragons. I need a life to exchange...

(Gandalf P.O.V)

I stay there, watching Daenys leaving the room with her dragon eggs “Do you think is wise to let her hatch those eggs?” Elrond whisper to me as Daenys leaves the room. I look up to him and nod “For what the Valar have told me....there will be a new enemy coming. We will need all the help we can have.”  he looks to me in confuse “A new enemy?” he asks.  

Standing up from my chair, I took my staff and walk to the door “It’s late, Lord Elrond! Tomorrow we will talk.” with that I walk out of the room, leaving behind a confuse Elrond. It’s better than he doesn’t know...

(Daenys P.O.V)

Three months had pass and my bond with the dragon's eggs grew more. Where I will find a life to sacrifice? I just can’t burn an innocent people!  

A sigh fell from my lips, I rub the tip of my fingers on my eyes. What do I do?  

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a horn, I stood up from my bed and walk to my balcony. I saw a group of warriors walking through the principal gate of the city but what caught my attention was the orc that they got with them. And there is my sacrifice...

I turn back and run out of the room, to where they taking the orc. I hope this work.

When I was near the throne room, I could hear Elrond voice “Why are you in my land, you filthy?!” I walk closer and saw the orc on his knees with two guards on his side, with they daggers on his neck.

The orc starts laughing like a mad man, “I will not say nothing to you, elf scum!” he says with venom in his words.  

Elrond frown and nod to the guards to kill the orc, I jump to the middle of the room “WAIT!” my voice sounded around the room. Elrond look to me confused “Why are you here, Daenys?” I walk to him, looking down to the orc with a disgust look “I need his life!” now Elrond was more confuse “His life? What are talking about?” I look to his eyes “I need a life to hatch my dragon eggs...and he’s perfect.” I say with a serious voice.  

Elrond eyes widened and look to the orc and then to the guards “Put him in the dungeons!” they nod and drag the orc out of the throne room.

Elrond went to me and put his hand on my shoulder “Are you sure about this?” I nod “Tonight in the clearing on the garden, bring the orc there...Be sure that Gandalf and Glorfindel be there too!” with that I walk to my chambers, to get ready for the birth of my dragons.

                                           ~~~~Time- skip~~~~

I stand in front of wood structure, that had my dragon's eggs there. Drogon was beside them, curling is body around the structure.  

Gandalf, Glorfindel and Elrond stood behind me with the orc, who was shouting curses. I look to them and smile a little “Attach him to the structure.” Glorfindel nods and drag the orc to the wood pole. Gandalf walk to me “Are you sure this is the way?” he asks worried.

I grab his warm hand and rub my thumb on his skin “Yes, I'm sure...Don’t worry.” he nods and give me a kiss on my cheek, whispering “Be careful.”  and then he goes to stand beside Elrond and Glorfindel.

Taking a deep breath, I look to the dark sky, watching the stars shining bright. This is it, Daenys!  

I move my gaze to Drogon “Dracarys!” with that he blows his fire to the wood structure, making the orc scream in pain and pleading to stop. I close my eyes and took a step forward. Rise my children...

(Thranduil P.O.V)

I stop my elf as I and my guards arrive to Rivendell, I didn’t inform Elrond of my visit but I think he won’t be mad.

Dismounting, I saw Lindir walking towards us “King Thranduil! I didn’t know that you would come to Rivendell!” he says with panic voice. I shake my head “Don’t worry, Lindir! I didn't inform Lord Elrond. Where is he?” I ask him.

I notice Lindir face go pale and he move his eyes to the floor “Ahh..My Lord is in a meeting right now!” What? Strange...a meeting at this hour?  

Suddenly we hear a huge roar and the smell of fire, I look to my side and saw huge flames that was coming from the garden “What?!” I say in panic and confused. Then my eyes wide, Daenys...

With that I start running to where the flames were, “King Thranduil!” I hear Lindir try to force to stay there.

As I arrive to the place, I notice Gandalf, Glorfindel and Elrond standing there doing nothing, but as I turn my head to the fire, I see Daenys walking into the flames. What’s going on here?! I run to them “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WE NEED TO HELP HER!” I scream to them but when I was about to jump into fire and grab Daenys, Glorfindel and Elrond grab me by the arms and pull me back “DAENYS! DAENYS, GET OUT!!” my voice sounded around the garden, full of pain and panic.  

I notice her turning her head to me and smile. No, no, no....i can’t lose another person that I love!  

Gandalf put his hand on my shoulder “Calm down, Thranduil! This is part of her ritual...she is okay.” What ritual? And how she is going to be fine?! SHE IS FUCKING BURNING!!

We stay there for hours, watching the flames burn bright in the night. Tears were running down on my cheeks. I lose her...

I hear a gasp from Glorfindel, I look up and saw a figure standing in the middle of the fire that was dying out.  

My eyes widened as I saw Daenys standing there, unharmed and naked by the fire. How is this possible?!  

On her left nipple was an orange baby dragon sucking the milk out, a while the other orange one was in her hand and the black one was in her shoulder, purring and pushing his little head against hers.

“She did it...” I heard Elrond whispering, my mouth was hanging open. The fire didn’t kill her...How’s that possible?!

Hey Guys!!! New chapter here and oh boy Thranduil had a heart attack. Hope you enjoy it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

Also I will need help to name the three new baby dragons 🥰🥰 Send to my inbox! --» Here😋

XOXO

REQUESTS OPEN

Taglist: @foggyturtleknightangel​ @moonchild-stuff​ @damniitjim​ @demonquartz​ @crazyonesarethebest​ @gwendelerynan​ @llama2264​ @tigereyesf​ @yes-captainstark​ @icarus-fell-in-spring​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @nikipuppeteer​ @numwoon44​ @decemberflurries​ @lespaceboi​ @weehawkendawngunsdrawnyouron​ @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals​ @lasswarrior​ 

[yourgamecheats]

'Call of Duty: Warzone' is a serious contender to Fortnite's throne

‘Call of Duty: Warzone’ is a serious contender to Fortnite’s throne

Despite being pretty late to the party, Epic Games’ Fortnite has become the battle royale title to beat. The cartoon-like survival shooter helped the company earn a reported $1.8 billion in 2019, thanks to a mix of slick gameplay, unique building mechanics and tons of big-budget crossovers to get players from every age group to part with their (or their parents’) cash.

But with popularity comes…

[liesandarbor]

Every mention of “obsidian” and “dragonglass” in the books.

Happy Friday Thrones and ASOIAF fans! With all of the talk of obsidian, dragonglass and the great war to come this season, I gathered an ultra post of every mention in ASOIAF text of Dragonglass and Obsidian (BONUS: and some ‘black oily structures’).  There’s a little crossover in a few of the quotes!

Let’s jump to them at the cut.

Every mention of “Dragonglass” in the books:

 "Take a lesson, Bran. The man who trusts in spells is dueling with a glass sword. As the children did. Here, let me show you something." He stood abruptly, crossed the room, and returned with a green jar in his good hand. "Have a look at these," he said as he pulled the stopper and shook out a handful of shiny black arrowheads. Bran picked one up. "It's made of glass." Curious, Rickon drifted closer to peer over the table. "Dragonglass," Osha named it as she sat down beside Luwin, bandagings in hand. "Obsidian," Maester Luwin insisted, holding out his wounded arm. "Forged in the fires of the gods, far below the earth. The children of the forest hunted with that, thousands of years ago. The children worked no metal. In place of mail, they wore long shirts of woven leaves and bound their legs in bark, so they seemed to melt into the wood. In place of swords, they carried blades of obsidian." "And still do." Osha placed soft pads over the bites on the maester's forearm and bound them tight with long strips of linen. Bran held the arrowhead up close. The black glass was slick and shiny. He thought it beautiful. "Can I keep one?" "As you wish," the maester said. "I want one too," Rickon said. "I want four. I'm four."  Luwin made him count them out. "Careful, they're still sharp. Don't cut yourself." "Tell me about the children," Bran said. It was important. A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

 The next day two of them came together to audience; the Greatjon's uncles, blustery men in the winter of their days with beards as white as the bearskin cloaks they wore. A crow had once taken Mors for dead and pecked out his eye, so he wore a chunk of dragonglass in its stead. As Old Nan told the tale, he'd grabbed the crow in his fist and bitten its head off, so they named him Crowfood. She would never tell Bran why his gaunt brother Hother was called Whoresbane.

 A Clash of Kings - Bran II

 A length of frayed rope bound the bundle together. Jon unsheathed his dagger and cut it, groped for the edges of the cloth, and pulled. The bundle turned, and its contents spilled out onto the ground, glittering dark and bright. He saw a dozen knives, leaf-shaped spearheads, numerous arrowheads. Jon picked up a dagger blade, featherlight and shiny black, hiltless. Torchlight ran along its edge, a thin orange line that spoke of razor sharpness. Dragonglass. What the maesters call obsidian. Had Ghost uncovered some ancient cache of the children of the forest, buried here for thousands of years? The Fist of the First Men was an old place, only . . .

Beneath the dragonglass was an old warhorn, made from an auroch's horn and banded in bronze. Jon shook the dirt from inside it, and a stream of arrowheads fell out. He let them fall, and pulled up a corner of the cloth the weapons had been wrapped in, rubbing it between his fingers. Good wool, thick, a double weave, damp but not rotted. It could not have been long in the ground. And it was dark. He seized a handful and pulled it close to the torch. Not dark. Black.

A Clash of Kings - Jon IV

 "This Andrik may be a great fighter, but men do not fear him as they fear you." "Aye, that's so," Dagmer said. The fingers curled around the drinking horn were heavy with rings, gold and silver and bronze, set with chunks of sapphire and garnet and dragonglass. He had paid the iron price for every one, Theon knew.

A Clash of Kings - Theon III

 Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai. Merchants offered bags of coin, silversmiths rings and chains. Pipers piped for her, tumblers tumbled, and jugglers juggled, while dyers draped her in colors she had never known existed. A pair of Jogos Nhai presented her with one of their striped zorses, black and white and fierce. 

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys III

"A fine trick," announced Jhogo with admiration. "No trick," a woman said in the Common Tongue. Dany had not noticed Quaithe in the crowd, yet there she stood, eyes wet and shiny behind the implacable red lacquer mask. "What mean you, my lady?"

"Half a year gone, that man could scarcely wake fire from dragonglass. He had some small skill with powders and wildfire, sufficient to entrance a crowd while his cutpurses did their work. He could walk across hot coals and make burning roses bloom in the air, but he could no more aspire to climb the fiery ladder than a common fisherman could hope to catch a kraken in his nets."

Dany looked uneasily at where the ladder had stood. Even the smoke was gone now, and the crowd was breaking up, each man going about his business. In a moment more than a few would find their purses flat and empty. "And now?"

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys III

 Sam came puffing up as Jon crossed the camp. Under the black hood his face was as pale and round as the moon. "I heard the horn. Has your uncle come back?" "It's only the men from the Shadow Tower." It was growing harder to cling to the hope of Benjen Stark's safe return. The cloak he had found beneath the Fist could well have belonged to his uncle or one of his men, even the Old Bear admitted as much, though why they would have buried it there, wrapped around the cache of dragonglass, no one could say. "Sam, I have to go."

A Clash of Kings - Jon V

 Jon slid his new dagger from its sheath and studied the flames as they played against the shiny black glass. He had fashioned the wooden hilt himself, and wound hempen twine around it to make a grip. Ugly, but it served. Dolorous Edd opined that glass knives were about as useful as nipples on a knight's breastplate, but Jon was not so certain. The dragonglass blade was sharper than steel, albeit far more brittle. It must have been buried for a reason.

A Clash of Kings - Jon V

 Every fourth or fifth step he had to reach down and tug up his swordbelt. He had lost the sword on the Fist, but the scabbard still weighed down the belt. He did have two knives; the dragonglass dagger Jon had given him and the steel one he cut his meat with. All that weight dragged heavy, and his belly was so big and round that if he forgot to tug the belt slipped right off and tangled round his ankles, no matter how tight he cinched it. He had tried belting it above his belly once, but then it came almost to his armpits. Grenn had laughed himself sick at the sight of it, and Dolorous Edd had said, "I knew a man once who wore his sword on a chain around his neck like that. One day he stumbled, and the hilt went up his nose."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell I

 His duty done, he finished dressing with clumsy, frightened fingers, donning his cap and surcoat and hooded cloak and buckling on his swordbelt, buckling it real tight so it wouldn't fall down. Then he found his pack and stuffed all his things inside, spare smallclothes and dry socks, the dragonglass arrowheads and spearhead Jon had given him and the old horn too, his parchments, inks, and quills, the maps he'd been drawing, and a rock-hard garlic sausage he'd been saving since the Wall. He tied it all up and shouldered the pack onto his back. The Lord Commander said I wasn't to rush to the ringwall, he recalled, but he said I shouldn't come running to him either. Sam took a deep breath and realized that he did not know what to do next.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell I

 When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.

Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. "Mother, that's cold."

"Obsidian." Sam struggled to his knees. "Dragonglass, they call it. Dragonglass. Dragon glass." He giggled, and cried, and doubled over to heave his courage out onto the snow.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell I

 "Why can't I just be Samwell Tarly?" He sat down heavily on a wet log that Grenn had yet to split. "It was the dragonglass that slew it. Not me, the dragonglass."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 But Dywen listened, and Dolorous Edd, and they made Sam and Grenn tell the Lord Commander. Mormont frowned all through the tale and asked pointed questions, but he was too cautious a man to shun any possible advantage. He asked Sam for all the dragonglass in his pack, though that was little enough. Whenever Sam thought of the cache Jon had found buried beneath the Fist, it made him want to cry. There'd been dagger blades and spearheads, and two or three hundred arrowheads at least. Jon had made daggers for himself, Sam, and Lord Commander Mormont, and he'd given Sam a spearhead, an old broken horn, and some arrowheads. Grenn had taken a handful of arrowheads as well, but that was all.

So now all they had was Mormont's dagger and the one Sam had given Grenn, plus nineteen arrows and a tall hardwood spear with a black dragonglass head. The sentries passed the spear along from watch to watch, while Mormont had divided the arrows among his best bowmen. Muttering Bill, Garth Greyfeather, Ronnel Harclay, Sweet Donnel Hill, and Alan of Rosby had three apiece, and Ulmer had four. But even if they made every shaft tell, they'd soon be down to fire arrows like all the rest. They had loosed hundreds of fire arrows on the Fist, yet still the wights kept coming.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 "Yes," said Sam, "but is it the cold that brings the wights, or the wights that bring the cold?"

"Who cares?" Grenn's axe sent wood chips flying. "They come together, that's what matters. Hey, now that we know that dragonglass kills them, maybe they won't come at all. Maybe they're frightened of us now!"

Sam wished he could believe that, but it seemed to him that when you were dead, fear had no more meaning than pain or love or duty. He wrapped his hands around his legs, sweating under his layers of wool and leather and fur. The dragonglass dagger had melted the pale thing in the woods, true . . . but Grenn was talking like it would do the same to the wights. We don't know that, he thought. We don't know anything, really. I wish Jon was here. He liked Grenn, but he couldn't talk to him the same way. Jon wouldn't call me Slayer, I know. And I could talk to him about Gilly's baby. Jon had ridden off with Qhorin Halfhand, though, and they'd had no word of him since. He had a dragonglass dagger too, but did he think to use it? Is he lying dead and frozen in some ravine . . . or worse, is he dead and walking?

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 Lord Commander Mormont gave him a withering look. "You are a man of the Night's Watch. Try not to soil your smallclothes every time I look at you. Come, I said." His boots made squishing sounds in the mud, and Sam had to hurry to keep up. "I've been thinking about this dragonglass of yours."

"It's not mine," Sam said.

"Jon Snow's dragonglass, then. If dragonglass daggers are what we need, why do we have only two of them? Every man on the Wall should be armed with one the day he says his words."

"We never knew . . ."

"We never knew! But we must have known once. The Night's Watch has forgotten its true purpose, Tarly. You don't build a wall seven hundred feet high to keep savages in skins from stealing women. The Wall was made to guard the realms of men . . . and not against other men, which is all the wildlings are when you come right down to it. Too many years, Tarly, too many hundreds and thousands of years. We lost sight of the true enemy. And now he's here, but we don't know how to fight him. Is dragonglass made by dragons, as the smallfolk like to say?"

"The m-maesters think not," Sam stammered. "The maesters say it comes from the fires of the earth. They call it obsidian."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 Sam stumbled. “Jon found more, on the Fist. Hundreds of arrowheads, spearheads as well . . .” “So you said. Small good it does us there. To reach the Fist again we’d need to be armed with the weapons we won’t have until we reach the bloody Fist. And there are still the wildlings to deal with. We need to find dragonglass someplace else.” Sam had almost forgotten about the wildlings, so much had happened since. “The children of the forest used dragonglass blades,” he said. “They’d know where to find obsidian.” “The children of the forest are all dead,” said Mormont. “The First Men killed half of them with bronze blades, and the Andals finished the job with iron. Why a glass dagger should—” The Old Bear broke off as Craster emerged from between the deerhide flaps of his door. The wildling smiled, revealing a mouth of brown rotten teeth. “I have a son.”

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 "Tell them what, my lord?" Sam asked politely.

"All. The Fist. The wildlings. Dragonglass. This. All." His breathing was very shallow now, his voice a whisper. "Tell my son. Jorah. Tell him, take the black. My wish. Dying wish."

"Wish?" The raven cocked its head, beady black eyes shining. "Corn?" the bird asked.

"No corn," said Mormont feebly. "Tell Jorah. Forgive him. My son. Please. Go."

"It's too far," said Sam. "I'll never reach the Wall, my lord." He was so very tired. All he wanted was to sleep, to sleep and sleep and never wake, and he knew that if he just stayed here soon enough Dirk or Ollo Lophand or Clubfoot Karl would get angry with him and grant his wish, just to see him die. "I'd sooner stay with you. See, I'm not frightened anymore. Of you, or . . . of anything."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 "You—" she started.

"I have the knife. The dragonglass dagger." He fumbled it out as he got to his feet. He'd given the first knife to Grenn, but thankfully he'd remembered to take Lord Mormont's dagger before fleeing Craster's Keep. He clutched it tight, moving away from the fire, away from Gilly and the babe. "Paul?" He meant to sound brave, but it came out in a squeak. "Small Paul. Do you know me? I'm Sam, fat Sam, Sam the Scared, you saved me in the woods. You carried me when I couldn't walk another step. No one else could have done that, but you did." Sam backed away, knife in hand, sniveling. I am such a coward. "Don't hurt us, Paul. Please. Why would you want to hurt us?"

Gilly scrabbled backward across the hard dirt floor. The wight turned his head to look at her, but Sam shouted "NO!" and he turned back. The raven on his shoulder ripped a strip of flesh from his pale ruined cheek. Sam held the dagger before him, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows. Across the longhall, Gilly reached the garron. Gods give me courage, Sam prayed. For once, give me a little courage. Just long enough for her to get away.

Small Paul moved toward him. Sam backed off until he came up against a rough log wall. He clutched the dagger with both hands to hold it steady. The wight did not seem to fear the dragonglass. Perhaps he did not know what it was. He moved slowly, but Small Paul had never been quick even when he'd been alive. Behind him, Gilly murmured to calm the garron and tried to urge it toward the door. But the horse must have caught a whiff of the wight's queer cold scent. Suddenly she balked, rearing, her hooves lashing at the frosty air. Paul swung toward the sound, and seemed to lose all interest in Sam.

There was no time to think or pray or be afraid. Samwell Tarly threw himself forward and plunged the dagger down into Small Paul's back. Half-turned, the wight never saw him coming. The raven gave a shriek and took to the air. "You're dead!" Sam screamed as he stabbed. "You're dead, you're dead." He stabbed and screamed, again and again, tearing huge rents in Paul's heavy black cloak. Shards of dragonglass flew everywhere as the blade shattered on the iron mail beneath the wool.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell III

 "Sam?"

Grenn looked away. "He killed one of the Others, Jon. I saw it. He stabbed him with that dragonglass knife you made him, and we started calling him Sam the Slayer. He hated that."

Sam the Slayer. Jon could hardly imagine a less likely warrior than Sam Tarly. "What happened to him?"

A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

 Ser Ilyn bowed before the king and queen, reached back over his shoulder, and drew forth six feet of ornate silver bright with runes. He knelt to offer the huge blade to Joffrey, hilt first; points of red fire winked from ruby eyes on the pommel, a chunk of dragonglass carved in the shape of a grinning skull.

Sansa stirred in her seat. "What sword is that?"  Tyrion's eyes still stung from the wine. He blinked and looked again. Ser Ilyn's greatsword was as long and wide as Ice, but it was too silvery bright; Valyrian steel had a darkness to it, a smokiness in its soul. Sansa clutched his arm. "What has Ser Ilyn done with my father's sword?"

I should have sent Ice back to Robb Stark, Tyrion thought. He glanced at his father, but Lord Tywin was watching the king.

A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

  "And Sam the Slayer," said Grenn. "You slew an Other."

"It was the dragonglass that killed it," Sam told him for the hundredth time.

"A lord's son, the maester's steward, and Sam the Slayer," Pyp mused. "You could talk to them, might be . . ."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell IV

 Stannis snorted. "I know Janos Slynt. And I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty. You have his look." A big man, Stannis Baratheon towered over Jon, but he was so gaunt that he looked ten years older than he was. "I know more than you might think, Jon Snow. I know it was you who found the dragonglass dagger that Randyll Tarly's son used to slay the Other."

"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well . . . spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass."

"Ghost found it. The blade was wrapped in a ranger's cloak and buried beneath the Fist of the First Men. There were other blades as well . . . spearheads, arrowheads, all dragonglass."

"I know you held the gate here," King Stannis said. "If not, I would have come too late."

A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

 King Stannis gazed off north again, his gold cloak streaming from his shoulders. "It may be that I am mistaken in you, Jon Snow. We both know the things that are said of bastards. You may lack your father's honor, or your brother's skill in arms. But you are the weapon the Lord has given me. I have found you here, as you found the cache of dragonglass beneath the Fist, and I mean to make use of you. Even Azor Ahai did not win his war alone. I killed a thousand wildlings, took another thousand captive, and scattered the rest, but we both know they will return. Melisandre has seen that in her fires. This Tormund Thunderfist is likely re-forming them even now, and planning some new assault. And the more we bleed each other, the weaker we shall all be when the real enemy falls upon us."

A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

 "Y-yes, Your Grace. Jon Snow gave it to me."

"Dragonglass." The red woman's laugh was music. "Frozen fire, in the tongue of old Valyria. Small wonder it is anathema to these cold children of the Other."

"On Dragonstone, where I had my seat, there is much of this obsidian to be seen in the old tunnels beneath the mountain," the king told Sam. "Chunks of it, boulders, ledges. The great part of it was black, as I recall, but there was some green as well, some red, even purple. I have sent word to Ser Rolland my castellan to begin mining it. I will not hold Dragonstone for very much longer, I fear, but perhaps the Lord of Light shall grant us enough frozen fire to arm ourselves against these creatures, before the castle falls."

Sam cleared his throat. "S-sire. The dagger . . . the dragonglass only shattered when I tried to stab a wight."

Melisandre smiled. "Necromancy animates these wights, yet they are still only dead flesh. Steel and fire will serve for them. The ones you call the Others are something more."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell V

 "Sam the Slayer!" he said, by way of greeting. "Are you sure you stabbed an Other, and not some child's snow knight?"

This isn't starting well. "It was the dragonglass that killed it, my lord," Sam explained feebly.

"Aye, no doubt. Well, out with it, Slayer. Did the maester send you to me?"

A Storm of Swords - Samwell V

 He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . . he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.

A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

 Armen crossed his arms. "Obsidian does not burn."

"Dragonglass," Pate said. "The smallfolk call it dragonglass." Somehow that seemed important.

"They do," mused Alleras, the Sphinx, "and if there are dragons in the world again . . ."

A Feast for Crows - Prologue

 "Long ago," Jon broke in. "What about the Others?"

"I found mention of dragonglass. The children of the forest used to give the Night's Watch a hundred obsidian daggers every year, during the Age of Heroes. The Others come when it is cold, most of the tales agree. Or else it gets cold when they come. Sometimes they appear during snowstorms and melt away when the skies clear. They hide from the light of the sun and emerge by night . . . or else night falls when they emerge. Some stories speak of them riding the corpses of dead animals. Bears, direwolves, mammoths, horses, it makes no matter, so long as the beast is dead. The one that killed Small Paul was riding a dead horse, so that part's plainly true. Some accounts speak of giant ice spiders too. I don't know what those are. Men who fall in battle against the Others must be burned, or else the dead will rise again as their thralls."

"We knew all this. The question is, how do we fight them?"

"The armor of the Others is proof against most ordinary blades, if the tales can be believed," said Sam, "and their own swords are so cold they shatter steel. Fire will dismay them, though, and they are vulnerable to obsidian." He remembered the one he had faced in the haunted forest, and how it had seemed to melt away when he stabbed it with the dragonglass dagger Jon had made for him. "I found one account of the Long Night that spoke of the last hero slaying Others with a blade of dragonsteel. Supposedly they could not stand against it."

"Dragonsteel?" Jon frowned. "Valyrian steel?"

A Feast for Crows - Samwell I/A Dance with Dragons Jon II

 "Scared? Of what? The chidings of old men? Sam, you saw the wights come swarming up the Fist, a tide of living dead men with black hands and bright blue eyes. You slew an Other."

"It was the d-d-d-dragonglass, not me."

"Be quiet. You lied and schemed and plotted to make me Lord Commander. You will obey me. You'll go to the Citadel and forge a chain, and if you have to cut up corpses, so be it. At least in Oldtown the corpses won't object."

A Feast for Crows - Samwell I/A Dance with Dragons Jon II

 ". . . obsidian," said the other man in the room, a pale, fleshy, pasty-faced young fellow with round shoulders, soft hands, close-set eyes, and food stains on his robes.

"Call it dragonglass." Archmaester Marwyn glanced at the candle for a moment. "It burns but is not consumed."

"What feeds the flame?" asked Sam.

A Feast for Crows - Samwell V

 "Some smaller than others." Valyria. It was written that on the day of Doom every hill for five hundred miles had split asunder to fill the air with ash and smoke and fire, blazes so hot and hungry that even the dragons in the sky were engulfed and consumed. Great rents had opened in the earth, swallowing palaces, temples, entire towns. Lakes boiled or turned to acid, mountains burst, fiery fountains spewed molten rock a thousand feet into the air, red clouds rained down dragonglass and the black blood of demons, and to the north the ground splintered and collapsed and fell in on itself and an angry sea came rushing in. The proudest city in all the world was gone in an instant, its fabled empire vanished in a day, the Lands of the Long Summer scorched and drowned and blighted.

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion VIII

 Seven hundred feet up, Jon Snow stood looking down upon the haunted forest. A north wind swirled through the trees below, sending thin white plumes of snow crystals flying from the highest branches, like icy banners. Elsewise nothing moved. Not a sign of life. That was not entirely reassuring. It was not the living that he feared. Even so …

The sun is out. The snow has stopped. It may be a moon's turn before we have another chance as good. It may be a season. "Have Emmett assemble his recruits," he told Dolorous Edd. "We'll want an escort. Ten rangers, armed with dragonglass. I want them ready to leave within the hour."

"Aye, m'lord. And to command?"

A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

 Nearby midnight the winds finally died away, and the sea grew calm enough for Tyrion to make his way back up onto deck. What he saw there did not reassure him. The cog was drifting on a sea of dragonglass beneath a bowl of stars, but all around the storm raged on. East, west, north, south, everywhere he looked, the clouds rose up like black mountains, their tumbled slopes and collossal cliffs alive with blue and purple lightning. No rain was falling, but the decks were slick and wet underfoot.

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IX

 The arms most wildlings carry are little more than sticks, thought Jon. Wooden clubs, stone axes, mauls, spears with fire-hardened points, knives of bone and stone and dragonglass, wicker shields, bone armor, boiled leather. The Thenns worked bronze, and raiders like the Weeper carried stolen steel and iron swords looted off some corpse … but even those were oft of ancient vintage, dinted from years of hard use and spotted with rust.

A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

 The giants had no kings and no lords, made no homes save in caverns or beneath tall trees, and they worked neither metal nor fields. They remained creatures of the Dawn Age even as the ages passed them by, men grew ever more numerous, and the forests were tamed and dwindled. Now the giants are gone even in the lands beyond the Wall, and the last reports of them are more than a hundred years old. And even those are dubious—tales that rangers of the Watch might tell over a warm fire. The children of the forest were, in many ways, the opposites of the giants. As small as children but dark and beautiful, they lived in a manner we might call crude today, yet they were still less barbarous than the giants. They worked no metal, but they had great art in working obsidian (what the smallfolk call dragonglass, while the Valyrians knew it by a word meaning "frozen fire") to make tools and weapons for hunting. They wove no cloths but were skilled in making garments of leaves and bark. They learned to make bows of weirwood and to construct flying snares of grass, and both of the sexes hunted with these.

The World of Ice and Fire - Ancient History: The Dawn Age

 The one thing that can be said for certain is that it was a cataclysm such as the world had never seen. The ancient, mighty Freehold—home to dragons and to sorcerers of unrivaled skill—was shattered and destroyed within hours. It was written that every hill for five hundred miles split asunder to fill the air with ash and smoke and fire so hot and hungry that even the dragons in the sky were engulfed and consumed. Great rents opened in the earth, swallowing palaces, temples, and entire towns. Lakes boiled or turned to acid, mountains burst, fiery fountains spewed molten rock a thousand feet into the air, and red clouds rained down dragonglass and the black blood of demons. To the north, the ground splintered and collapsed and fell in on itself, and an angry sea came boiling in.

The World of Ice and Fire - Ancient History: The Doom of Valyria

 The children fought back as best they could, but the First Men were larger and stronger. Riding their horses, clad and armed in bronze, the First Men overwhelmed the elder race wherever they met, for the weapons of the children were made of bone and wood and dragonglass. Finally, driven by desperation, the little people turned to sorcery and beseeched their greenseers to stem the tide of these invaders.

And so they did, gathering in their hundreds (some say on the Isle of Faces), and calling on their old gods with song and prayer and grisly sacrifice (a thousand captive men were fed to the weirwood, one version of the tale goes, whilst another claims the children used the blood of their own young). And the old gods stirred, and giants awoke in the earth, and all of Westeros shook and trembled. Great cracks appeared in the earth, and hills and mountains collapsed and were swallowed up. And then the seas came rushing in, and the Arm of Dorne was broken and shattered by the force of the water, until only a few bare rocky islands remained above the waves. The Summer Sea joined the narrow sea, and the bridge between Essos and Westeros vanished for all time.

The World of Ice and Fire - Dorne: The Breaking

   Every mention of “Obsidian” in the books:

 Catelyn had more faith in a maester's learning than a septon's prayers. She was about to say as much when she saw the battlements ahead, long parapets built into the very stone of the mountains on either side of them. Where the pass shrank to a narrow defile scarce wide enough for four men to ride abreast, twin watchtowers clung to the rocky slopes, joined by a covered bridge of weathered grey stone that arched above the road. Silent faces watched from arrow slits in tower, battlements, and bridge. When they had climbed almost to the top, a knight rode out to meet them. His horse and his armor were grey, but his cloak was the rippling blue-and-red of Riverrun, and a shiny black fish, wrought in gold and obsidian, pinned its folds against his shoulder. "Who would pass the Bloody Gate?" he called.

A Game of Thrones - Catelyn VI

 The stewards! For a moment Jon could not believe what he had heard. Mormont must have read it wrong. He started to rise, to open his mouth, to tell them there had been a mistake … and then he saw Ser Alliser studying him, eyes shiny as two flakes of obsidian, and he knew.

A Game of Thrones - Jon VI

 The next morning it was Ser Brynden Tully himself who rode back to them. He had put aside the heavy plate and helm he'd worn as the Knight of the Gate for the lighter leather-and-mail of an outrider, but his obsidian fish still fastened his cloak.

A Game of Thrones - Catelyn IX

  "Take a lesson, Bran. The man who trusts in spells is dueling with a glass sword. As the children did. Here, let me show you something." He stood abruptly, crossed the room, and returned with a green jar in his good hand. "Have a look at these," he said as he pulled the stopper and shook out a handful of shiny black arrowheads.

Bran picked one up. "It's made of glass." Curious, Rickon drifted closer to peer over the table.

 "Dragonglass," Osha named it as she sat down beside Luwin, bandagings in hand.

 "Obsidian," Maester Luwin insisted, holding out his wounded arm. "Forged in the fires of the gods, far below the earth. The children of the forest hunted with that, thousands of years ago. The children worked no metal. In place of mail, they wore long shirts of woven leaves and bound their legs in bark, so they seemed to melt into the wood. In place of swords, they carried blades of obsidian."

"And still do." Osha placed soft pads over the bites on the maester's forearm and bound them tight with long strips of linen.

 Bran held the arrowhead up close. The black glass was slick and shiny. He thought it beautiful. "Can I keep one?"

 "As you wish," the maester said.

 "I want one too," Rickon said. "I want four. I'm four."

 Luwin made him count them out. "Careful, they're still sharp. Don't cut yourself."

 "Tell me about the children," Bran said. It was important.

A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

 "But some twelve thousand years ago, the First Men appeared from the east, crossing the Broken Arm of Dorne before it was broken. They came with bronze swords and great leathern shields, riding horses. No horse had ever been seen on this side of the narrow sea. No doubt the children were as frightened by the horses as the First Men were by the faces in the trees. As the First Men carved out holdfasts and farms, they cut down the faces and gave them to the fire. Horror-struck, the children went to war. The old songs say that the greenseers used dark magics to make the seas rise and sweep away the land, shattering the Arm, but it was too late to close the door. The wars went on until the earth ran red with blood of men and children both, but more children than men, for men were bigger and stronger, and wood and stone and obsidian make a poor match for bronze. Finally the wise of both races prevailed, and the chiefs and heroes of the First Men met the greenseers and wood dancers amidst the weirwood groves of a small island in the great lake called Gods Eye.

A Game of Thrones - Bran VII

 All the colors that had been missing from Vaes Tolorro had found their way to Qarth; buildings crowded about her fantastical as a fever dream in shades of rose, violet, and umber. She passed under a bronze arch fashioned in the likeness of two snakes mating, their scales delicate flakes of jade, obsidian, and lapis lazuli. Slim towers stood taller than any Dany had ever seen, and elaborate fountains filled every square, wrought in the shapes of griffins and dragons and manticores.

A Clash of Kings - Daenerys II

 A length of frayed rope bound the bundle together. Jon unsheathed his dagger and cut it, groped for the edges of the cloth, and pulled. The bundle turned, and its contents spilled out onto the ground, glittering dark and bright. He saw a dozen knives, leaf-shaped spearheads, numerous arrowheads. Jon picked up a dagger blade, featherlight and shiny black, hiltless. Torchlight ran along its edge, a thin orange line that spoke of razor sharpness. Dragonglass. What the maesters call obsidian. Had Ghost uncovered some ancient cache of the children of the forest, buried here for thousands of years? The Fist of the First Men was an old place, only . . .

A Clash of Kings - Jon IV

 When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell I

 Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. "Mother, that's cold."

"Obsidian." Sam struggled to his knees. "Dragonglass, they call it. Dragonglass. Dragon glass." He giggled, and cried, and doubled over to heave his courage out onto the snow.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell I

 "The m-maesters think not," Sam stammered. "The maesters say it comes from the fires of the earth. They call it obsidian."

Mormont snorted. "They can call it lemon pie for all I care. If it kills as you claim, I want more of it."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

 Sam had almost forgotten about the wildlings, so much had happened since. "The children of the forest used dragonglass blades," he said. "They'd know where to find obsidian."

"The children of the forest are all dead," said Mormont. "The First Men killed half of them with bronze blades, and the Andals finished the job with iron. Why a glass dagger should—"

A Storm of Swords - Samwell II

  Sleeping alone in my own cold cell never made me any harder or braver, though. He wondered what his father would say if he could see him now. I killed one of the Others, my lord, he imagined saying. I stabbed him with an obsidian dagger, and my Sworn Brothers call me Sam the Slayer now. But even in his fancies, Lord Randyll only scowled, disbelieving.

A Storm of Swords - Samwell III

  Roro had sailed past Skagos into the Shivering Sea, visiting a hundred little coves that had never seen a trading ship before. He brought steel; swords, axes, helms, good chainmail hauberks, to trade for furs, ivory, amber, and obsidian. When the Cobblecat turned back south her holds were stuffed, but in the Bay of Seals three black galleys came out to herd her into Eastwatch. They lost their cargo and the Bastard lost his head, for the crime of trading weapons to the wildlings.

A Storm of Swords - Davos V

 The king gave that a curt nod, as if to say he knew and did not care. "You slew this creature with an obsidian dagger, I am told," he said to Sam.

"Y-yes, Your Grace. Jon Snow gave it to me."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell V

 "On Dragonstone, where I had my seat, there is much of this obsidian to be seen in the old tunnels beneath the mountain," the king told Sam. "Chunks of it, boulders, ledges. The great part of it was black, as I recall, but there was some green as well, some red, even purple. I have sent word to Ser Rolland my castellan to begin mining it. I will not hold Dragonstone for very much longer, I fear, but perhaps the Lord of Light shall grant us enough frozen fire to arm ourselves against these creatures, before the castle falls."

A Storm of Swords - Samwell V

 "What are these glass candles?" asked Roone.

Armen the Acolyte cleared his throat. "The night before an acolyte says his vows, he must stand a vigil in the vault. No lantern is permitted him, no torch, no lamp, no taper . . . only a candle of obsidian. He must spend the night in darkness, unless he can light that candle. Some will try. The foolish and the stubborn, those who have made a study of these so-called higher mysteries. Often they cut their fingers, for the ridges on the candles are said to be as sharp as razors. Then, with bloody hands, they must wait upon the dawn, brooding on their failure. Wiser men simply go to sleep, or spend their night in prayer, but every year there are always a few who must try."

"Yes." Pate had heard the same stories. "But what's the use of a candle that casts no light?"

A Feast for Crows - Prologue

 "I know what I saw. The light was queer and bright, much brighter than any beeswax or tallow candle. It cast strange shadows and the flame never flickered, not even when a draft blew through the open door behind me."

Armen crossed his arms. "Obsidian does not burn."

"Dragonglass," Pate said. "The smallfolk call it dragonglass." Somehow that seemed important.

A Feast for Crows - Prologue

 "I found mention of dragonglass. The children of the forest used to give the Night's Watch a hundred obsidian daggers every year, during the Age of Heroes. The Others come when it is cold, most of the tales agree. Or else it gets cold when they come. Sometimes they appear during snowstorms and melt away when the skies clear. They hide from the light of the sun and emerge by night . . . or else night falls when they emerge. Some stories speak of them riding the corpses of dead animals. Bears, direwolves, mammoths, horses, it makes no matter, so long as the beast is dead. The one that killed Small Paul was riding a dead horse, so that part's plainly true. Some accounts speak of giant ice spiders too. I don't know what those are. Men who fall in battle against the Others must be burned, or else the dead will rise again as their thralls."

"We knew all this. The question is, how do we fight them?"

"The armor of the Others is proof against most ordinary blades, if the tales can be believed," said Sam, "and their own swords are so cold they shatter steel. Fire will dismay them, though, and they are vulnerable to obsidian." He remembered the one he had faced in the haunted forest, and how it had seemed to melt away when he stabbed it with the dragonglass dagger Jon had made for him. "I found one account of the Long Night that spoke of the last hero slaying Others with a blade of dragonsteel. Supposedly they could not stand against it."

A Feast for Crows - Samwell I/A Dance with Dragons Jon II

 The candle was unpleasantly bright. There was something queer about it. The flame did not flicker, even when Archmaester Marwyn closed the door so hard that papers blew off a nearby table. The light did something strange to colors too. Whites were bright as fresh-fallen snow, yellow shone like gold, reds turned to flame, but the shadows were so black they looked like holes in the world. Sam found himself staring. The candle itself was three feet tall and slender as a sword, ridged and twisted, glittering black. "Is that . . . ?"

". . . obsidian," said the other man in the room, a pale, fleshy, pasty-faced young fellow with round shoulders, soft hands, close-set eyes, and food stains on his robes.

"Call it dragonglass." Archmaester Marwyn glanced at the candle for a moment. "It burns but is not consumed."

A Feast for Crows - Samwell V

 The soldier pines and sentinels wore thick white coats, and icicles draped the bare brown limbs of the broadleafs. Jon sent Tom Barleycorn ahead to scout for them, though the way to the white grove was oft trod and familiar. Big Liddle and Luke of Longtown slipped into the brush to east and west. They would flank the column to give warning of any approach. All were seasoned rangers, armed with obsidian as well as steel, warhorns slung across their saddles should they need to summon help.

A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII

The giants had no kings and no lords, made no homes save in caverns or beneath tall trees, and they worked neither metal nor fields. They remained creatures of the Dawn Age even as the ages passed them by, men grew ever more numerous, and the forests were tamed and dwindled. Now the giants are gone even in the lands beyond the Wall, and the last reports of them are more than a hundred years old. And even those are dubious—tales that rangers of the Watch might tell over a warm fire. The children of the forest were, in many ways, the opposites of the giants. As small as children but dark and beautiful, they lived in a manner we might call crude today, yet they were still less barbarous than the giants. They worked no metal, but they had great art in working obsidian (what the smallfolk call dragonglass, while the Valyrians knew it by a word meaning "frozen fire") to make tools and weapons for hunting. They wove no cloths but were skilled in making garments of leaves and bark. They learned to make bows of weirwood and to construct flying snares of grass, and both of the sexes hunted with these.

The World of Ice and Fire - Ancient History: The Dawn Age

 It has long been held that they did this for protection from predators such as direwolves or shadowcats, which their simple stone weapons—and even their vaunted greenseers—were not proof against. But other sources dispute this, stating that their greatest foes were the giants, as hinted at in tales told in the North, and as possibly proved by Maester Kennet in the study of a barrow near the Long Lake—a giant's burial with obsidianarrowheads found amidst the extant ribs. It brings to mind a transcription of a wildling song in Maester Herryk's History of the Kings-Beyond-the-Wall, regarding the brothers Gendel and Gorne. They were called upon to mediate a dispute between a clan of children and a family of giants over the possession of a cavern. Gendel and Gorne, it is said, ultimately resolved the matter through trickery, making both sides disavow any desire for the cavern, after the brothers discovered it was a part of a greater chain of caverns that eventually passed beneath the Wall. But considering that the wildlings have no letters, their traditions must be looked at with a jaundiced eye.

The World of Ice and Fire - Ancient History: The Dawn Age

 The "unicorns" of Skagos were once scoffed at by maesters at the Citadel. The occasional "unicorn horn" offered by disreputable merchants has never been more than the horn of a kind of whale hunted by the whalers of Ib. However, horns of quite a different kind—reputed to be from Skagos—have been seen by the maesters at Eastwatch upon occasion. It is also said that those seafarers brave enough to trade on Skagos have glimpsed the stoneborn lords riding great, shaggy, horned beasts, monstrous mounts so sure-footed they have been known to climb the sides of mountains. A living example of such a creature—or even a skeleton—has long been sought for study, but none has ever been brought to Oldtown.

Though rarely seen off their island, the stoneborn once were accustomed to crossing the Bay of Seals to trade or, more oft, raid—until King Brandon Stark, Ninth of His Name, broke their power once and for all, destroyed their ships, and forbade them the sea. For most of recorded history, they have remained an isolated, backward, savage folk, as like to murder those who land upon their isle as to trade with them. When they do consent to trade, the Skagosi offer pelts, obsidian blades and arrowheads, and "unicorn horns" for goods they desire.

Some Skagosi have served in the Night's Watch as well. More than a thousand years ago, a Crowl (a member of a clan that passes for nobility on Skagos) was even Lord Commander for a time, and the Annals of the Black Centaur speak of a Stane (a member of another Skagosi family) who rose to become First Ranger but died shortly thereafter.

The World of Ice and Fire - The North: The Stoneborn of Skagos

 Mentions of oily black buildings/stone/structure:

 Neither the dancers nor the drinkers took much note of Theon Greyjoy as he strode to the dais. Lord Balon occupied the Seastone Chair, carved in the shape of a great kraken from an immense block of oily black stone. Legend said that the First Men had found it standing on the shore of Old Wyk when they came to the Iron Islands. To the left of the high seat were Theon's uncles. Asha was ensconced at his right hand, in the place of honor. "You come late, Theon," Lord Balon observed.

A Clash of Kings - Theon II

 Even among the ironborn there are some who doubt this and acknowledge the more widely accepted view of an ancient descent from the First Men—even though the First Men, unlike the later Andals, were never a seafaring people. Certainly, we cannot seriously accept the assertions of the ironborn priests, who would have us believe that the ironmen are closer kin to fish and merlings than the other races of mankind.

Archmaester Haereg once advanced the interesting notion that the ancestors of the ironborn came from some unknown land west of the Sunset Sea, citing the legend of the Seastone Chair. The throne of the Greyjoys, carved into the shape of a kraken from an oily black stone, was said to have been found by the First Men when they first came to Old Wyk. Haereg argued that the chair was a product of the first inhabitants of the islands, and only the later histories of maesters and septons alike began to claim that they were in fact descended of the First Men. But this is the purest speculation and, in the end, Haereg himself dismissed the idea, and so must we.

The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands

 Maesters and other scholars alike have puzzled over the greatest of the engimas of Sothoryos, the ancient city of Yeen. A ruin older than time, built of oily black stone, in massive blocks so heavy that it would require a dozen elephants to move them, Yeen has remained a desolation for many thousands of years, yet the jungle that surrounds it on every side has scarce touched it. ("A city so evil that even the jungle will not enter," Nymeria is supposed to have said when she laid eyes on it, if the tales are true). Every attempt to rebuild or resettle Yeen has ended in horror.

The World of Ice and Fire - Beyond the Free Cities: Sothoryos

 The maester did not believe in omens. And yet . . . old as he was, Cressen had never seen a comet half so bright, nor yet that color, that terrible color, the color of blood and flame and sunsets. He wondered if his gargoyles had ever seen its like. They had been here so much longer than he had, and would still be here long after he was gone. If stone tongues could speak . . .

Such folly. He leaned against the battlement, the sea crashing beneath him, the black stone rough beneath his fingers. Talking gargoyles and prophecies in the sky. I am an old done man, grown giddy as a child again. Had a lifetime's hard-won wisdom fled him along with his health and strength? He was a maester, trained and chained in the great Citadel of Oldtown. What had he come to, when superstition filled his head as if he were an ignorant fieldhand?

A Clash of Kings - Prologue

 Lord Stannis Baratheon's refuge was a great round room with walls of bare black stone and four tall narrow windows that looked out to the four points of the compass. In the center of the chamber was the great table from which it took its name, a massive slab of carved wood fashioned at the command of Aegon Targaryen in the days before the Conquest. The Painted Table was more than fifty feet long, perhaps half that wide at its widest point, but less than four feet across at its narrowest. Aegon's carpenters had shaped it after the land of Westeros, sawing out each bay and peninsula until the table nowhere ran straight. On its surface, darkened by near three hundred years of varnish, were painted the Seven Kingdoms as they had been in Aegon's day; rivers and mountains, castles and cities, lakes and forests.

A Clash of Kings - Prologue

[erenyuuta]

Ice & Fire - Prologue

Series Masterlist

Next Chapter

Glossary & Character List (contains spoilers)

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Yuuta Okkotsu

Genre: Fantasy AU, romance, smut, angst, fluff, a crossover between Attack On Titan and Jujutsu Kaisen, loosely based on Game of Thrones and Eragon

Series Summary: Yuuta Okkotsu, the kind-hearted firstborn prince of the kingdom of Nymeria, finds himself stranded on an island that had been thought to only exist in legend. It is there he meets the last of the Valyrians, a dragon-blood named Eren Jaeger. While their days on the island are happy, they can’t last forever. Yuuta has a duty as prince to his kingdom that he must fulfill, and it is this duty that ultimately tears them apart.

Content Warnings: BL/Yaoi, hybrids/monsters, magic/fantasy, infidelity, power imbalances, graphic depictions of violence and death, explicit sexual content (blow job, anal sex, rimming, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, monsterfucking, 69, cum-eating, spit play, deep-throating, double penetration, sadism, masochism, blood play/consumption, choking/asphyxiation kink, handjob, drunk sex, orgy), dub-con, non-con, virginity loss, drugs (alcohol), traumatic backstories, unrequited love, drowning, murder, suicide, yandere tropes, corruption arc, major character death

Written by Aleks from @erenergic/@princess-jaeger and Kana from @ficsforeren/@sundaysundaes

THE DEATH OF THE DRAGONS

Valyria, they called it. The Island of the Dragons.

The outsiders believed it was a myth. A legend. That the tale of the beasts who once ruled the world was simply a story parents invented to put their children to sleep. No one had ever seen a dragon soaring in the sky. No one had ever had shivers running down their spines at the sounds of their bellow. No one had ever felt the heat of the blue flames that seeped through the creature’s teeth. No one had ever witnessed the glorious tale of a Rider and their Dragon. How their power reigned over the world, providing peace and serenity to their people, and how their frozen fire and bloodied desire were the ones that consumed them too in the end. No one, except the Valyrians themselves. They remembered. 

The Valyrians walked upon the ground that their ancestor, the mighty dragon Balerion, built from scratch with his blood and sweat. They stood on his bones, ones that were turned to dust, and they worshiped his name, the only thing that was left of him. But the dragon magic that once streamed under his skin was inherited by every Valyrian that was born into the world. It took the shape of the delicate iridescent scales that veneered their human skin, the two jagged horns that were perched upon their heads, a tail strong enough to smother the air out of a man’s lungs, and a string of marbled teeth made of knives.

They resembled the appearance of the devils that crawled their way out from the underworld, but the Gods were merciful enough to grant them the ability to conceal every part of them that was inhuman. Once a Valyrian was old enough–strong enough–to have control over their magic, they could embrace their human parts better. They could turn their scales transparent and hide their beauty from the world. They could use their magic like an invisible veil, cloaking their horns and tail. They could appear human. They could live like humans.

But even so, the Valyrians no longer possessed the thirst for knowledge their ancestors did. They weren’t as courageous, as fearless, and as greedy as they were. Even with blue flames dancing on their palms, they never used it to enslave other races. They were content with what their island had given them. 

The outsiders, those who lived on the other side of the sea, had never seen a dragon’s wrath, only stories of it. Their incognizance could make them reckless and foolish. It could make them dangerous. Their curiosity could threaten the life of every Valyrian, fight their loyal husbands, and harm innocent children and their loving mothers. It was in their nature for humans to judge others by their appearance, and when their opponents embodied the look of a monster, it was only right for them to raise their weapons against them. 

The Valyrians could tyrannize over the outsiders if they wanted to. They had the power to do so but chose not to. Yet that was not enough to convince a stranger, especially those who were already shrouded with fear. The dragon hybrids chose to avoid conflict and live a peaceful life, staying deep in the serenity the island provided them. They chose not to step outside and travel the world, no matter how beautiful they may seem, as they believed that the only living beings who thrived on the other end of the sea were monsters.

Legends are meant to be stories, their tall tales a source of wisdom and a tool for learning. But when a child believes these legends enough to stop questioning their authenticity, they become a threat to the world around them. 

A bright Valyrian boy, defiant in his nature, was so consumed by his curiosity that it made him foolish. Armin was the name his father gave him, meaning hero in their language, in hopes that his son would become a savior to his kind, one that would return the peace to the island if a calamity ever arose. Little did he know that his son would be the one who would anger the Gods and bring catastrophe to their land.

A treasure chest full of clothes and jewelry was found washed ashore one day, on a beach where Armin often spent his time daydreaming about the outside world. Though they had their preference for clothing and accessories, hybrids were always fond of shiny gemstones, but at that time, nothing caught his attention more than a leather book the size of a large stepping stone. The inside of the treasure box was dry, despite the journey full of storms and crashing waves it must have gone through before it reached his beach. The book was not ruined.

Armin flipped through the pages. The words were written in a different language but even if they weren’t, it would not have mattered. None of the Valyrians were literate as they preferred to communicate verbally. They drew on the walls and walked their fingers across the sand, but they had never invented words to be placed on parchments. 

The boy landed his cerulean eyes on a set of illustrations sketched by a human’s hand. Words and languages weren’t needed to explain that he was seeing a drawing of flaming water, land made of ice, and fields of sand spreading wide as if it was endless.

Beautiful, Armin wondered, stars dancing in his eyes as they gleamed in awe. Is this what the outside world looks like? 

That was how it all started. One boy, desperate to seek an answer to his question, decided to take action to fulfill his thirst. With a wooden boat he made with his talented hands, a week’s worth of food, and a breechclout made from a wolf’s fur to protect him from the wind, Armin roamed the ocean at dawn. He let the waves carry him away from the paradise he once called home, seeking another heaven that would satisfy his curiosity. 

But what stood on the other side of the sea was no such thing.

It was hell on earth.

They found him the second he stepped down from his boat. The outsiders approached menacingly with javelins gripped tightly between their hands. They questioned his identity with their deep, guttural voices in a language the boy had never spoken of. The golden-haired boy cowered in fear, his sapphire eyes quivering like the crystal-like water behind him. In his frightened state, the boy lost focus on his power, and the invisible cloak around him provided by his magic, vanished. The outsiders watched him with widened eyes, faces turning pasty at the sight of his horns and tail. They didn’t find beauty in his scales. 

“A d-demon,” one of them said and the boy took a step back, lost his footing, and fell onto the sand. Sea water drenched his skin, and while it usually calmed him down in the past, it only made him feel frantic. The boy tried to communicate with his gentle heart, his hands raised in surrender but they mistook it for a threat. A man, twice his size, shouted at him, his voice ringing vehemently enough to awaken the boy’s instinct to protect himself. His human eyes turned snake-like as he stretched out a hand before him, palm splayed with heat trickling from his fingertips. In the next second, blue flames materialized out of thin air.

And it burned the man into dust. 

The boy was just as frightened of himself as the other males, but the humans were much faster to regain their composure. Acting on impulse, they restrained the boy with ropes that dug tortuously into his skin, threw a rag over his head, and brought him to a dungeon where they would spend hours tormenting him. They mutilated him, chopped off his hands so he wouldn’t be able to use his fire magic. Each question was answered with a wail, and once they had grown tired, the humans tried to burn him alive, wanting him to experience the same painful death that had befallen their comrade. Armin might not have been invincible to daggers, but he welcomed the heat of the flames like an old friend. He couldn’t be burned, his bones remained strong, and his skin was unscathed. At that moment, fear was no longer the only thing that swelled inside those humans’ merciless hearts. There was greed. They saw his power as a gift, and they wanted to take it for themselves.

The boy pleaded for his life and they promised him freedom if he could lead them to his home. Gullible and desperate, Armin led them back to the sea. They stopped in the middle of the ocean, their bodies weak and dehydrated. The outsiders were confused as they could see nothing but water glimmering like diamonds under the sun. There was magic shrouding the island, a protection field that prevented anyone but the Valyrians from seeing the island until they passed through it. The humans, not knowing about the invisible cloak that concealed the island, were furious, assuming that the boy had tricked them and led them astray. But then Armin murmured a word in a language they didn't know existed, and like a curtain being tugged to the side, the island appeared before their eyes.

The outsiders rejoiced. They were one step closer to getting what they wanted.

Armin, despite his willingness to cooperate, had his head detached from his neck the second they arrived on the island. That day, from daylight to nighttime, the humans wreaked havoc on their island with their spears and swords. The outside world was cold and cruel, and the humans were trained for survival and warfare. But the hybrids were nothing like them, too used to living in tranquility to be able to take the life of another. The battle was one-sided. 

Humans didn’t just walk away victorious. They robbed everything they could, raped every woman, tortured every man, and murdered the elderly all in one night. They tied up the children’s hands and legs and they tossed them to the back of their boats, carrying them back to their own land so they could experiment with their powers. They ripped the scales out of their skins. They used their bodies to test their weapons. They wanted to know every bit of their weakness and steal away every bit of their strength. The children didn’t last long, dying from being unable to withstand the pain. The massacre put an end to their race. The dragons had perished, all except one.

Eren Jaeger, a nine-year-old hybrid, managed to escape the massacre at the cost of his family’s lives. He saw the way his father gasped as a javelin struck past his heart. He heard the sound of his brother’s cry as they chopped off his legs and fed his body to their hounds. He felt the way his mother embraced him with her trembling arms as she asked him to flee for his life and leave her behind. 

“You have to go or they will take you away,” she urged him, her voice quavering in terror. “Run. And when you feel like you can’t run anymore, run faster. You have to live.”

“But Mother–”

“Eren.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, casting him the same smile that Eren had fallen in love with from the day he was born. “You have to live so you can remember us.” She kissed his tears away but she didn’t let him do the same. She pushed her child forward, yelling, “Run!”

Eren did, without having a second to bid his goodbye. He sprinted faster than the wind, even if each stride felt like he was stepping onto shards of broken glass. He dived into the sea, and he let the tide and the storm be his shield and shelter.

And he never looked back.

THE BIRTH OF THE WOLVES

Nymeria was the home of the Gods. Vibrant with colors, perfused with life. 

As one of the eight kingdoms that ruled the continent, its beauty stretched endlessly from the drift ice in the north sea to the mangrove jungles in the south. Petals of cherry blossom trees performed a graceful dance with the wind in the spring, while the scent of thriving bamboo permeated the air throughout the year. 

The first emperor, Michizane Sugawara, built his kingdom from scratch. He was known as the Wolf of The North, due to his fierceness and loyalty. But an old lady would tell her grandchildren a different story of how he regained that title. 

Michizane was only a baby who had barely learned how to smile when his people perceived him as a vessel of a vengeful spirit. He was born with an anomaly, where his eyes were blood red instead of gentle brown like his parents. From the day he breathed his first air, a deadly plague spread through the entire village, taking every newborn’s life, and sending the elderly to eternal sleep. The soothing rains turned into storms, flooding their land and destroying their paddies. The gentle breeze evolved into a hurricane and swept away their houses. They were too afraid to question the Gods and so they blamed a child who still craved his mother’s warmth. 

On a night of the full moon, they snatched the baby away from his mother’s arms. They cast him into the woods, far away in the north, where the starving wolves roam around, searching for prey. The people sat down and prayed at the gate, not for the baby’s safety, but to offer his life to the Forest Gods, hoping that it would stop the calamity that befell their homes. 

His people abandoned him, but the wolves took him into their pack. Michizane was raised in the woods and the wolves taught him their language and the meaning of family. He learned compassion. He learned how to forgive and rely on each other’s strength. Because when the snow falls and the wind blows, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

The catastrophe that struck the village continued long after they last listened to the sound of Michizane’s fretful cry. The people remained hungry, their children were only bones and skin. One day, a pack of wolves walked into their village with silence in their steps and glowing eyes. They were not ordinary beasts, three times the size of the wolves that guarded their woods, heavier with more massive jaws and teeth that could tear a man’s leg with a single bite. They did not fear fire. They did not fear blades. The people screamed in their helpless state, and the mothers cried as the wolves howled.

Then a man stepped in, a stranger by face but not by name, and the wolves turned as still as the dead.

“I am Michizane Sugawara,” the man said, his eyes glowing in the night like a scarlet moon but they were as gentle as the breeze that kissed his cheeks. “The man you once cast away.”

“The vengeful spirit!” a brawny man shouted, pointing his javelin at his face. A beast covered with smoke gray fur lunged forward in response, standing before Michizane like a mother wolf protecting its pup. The man took a step back, his face turned pasty at the sight of its bared teeth.

“Easy,” Michizane said, his hand stroking the direwolf’s fur, and the growling that rumbled deep within its chest turned into a soft purr. His opponent watched his every movement closely, but the one who seemed like a threat was not Michizane. It was himself.

“I am not here for revenge,” Michizane explained, grabbing the sack he carried on one shoulder and emptying its insides. Mangos and berries tumbled to the ground, rolling and knocking themselves against the peasants’ feet. The people stared in bewilderment. Where did he find these fruits? They wondered. They were certain that there was nothing left for them to harvest, as the storms had destroyed everything to the ground.

“I found them in the forest,” Michizane answered their silent question. “There is more than I can carry. Come with me. I’ll show you the path.”

The people turned their heads, staring at each other’s faces with frowns breaking on their temples. “B-but…” A lady spoke, her voice was as frail as a spiderweb. “There are… wolves in the forest.”

“Yes, there are,” Michizane responded with a smile, caressing the beast with one hand and it leaned further into his touch like a small kitten. “They’re my family.”

“Why should we trust you?” Her husband said, firmer in tone even when his knees were trembling under his weight. “What if you lead us into the forest and toss us to the wolves?”

“Because I’m not like you.” The tenderness in Michizane’s voice began to waver as his patience ran thin. “I don’t sacrifice a human’s life to save my own. I am here to give you an option. Pledge your loyalty to me and I will make sure your children sleep with their stomachs full. Put your faith in me and I will let the wolves protect you, the way they protected me. I doubt you can survive the next winter if you remain in this state. We can survive together. We will survive together.”

Words alone would not be enough to suddenly turn their fear into devotion, but at least, they managed to light a flicker of flame in their hearts, enough for them to be brave. They kept their weapons and torches in their hands but they followed his trail without a word. The wolves stood on their sides, their teeth no longer bared, and they were as silent as the night itself. When they entered the forest, they were welcomed by the sight of mango trees coming into fruit, dangling tantalizingly before their eyes.

“Take as many as you wish,” Michizane said. “I won’t let you starve.”

Instead of sprinting toward the trees, the villagers dropped down to their knees, their arms stretched out as they pressed their foreheads to the ground. They called upon his name, chanting it like prayer as they spoke their gratitudes. His red eyes shone in elation, happy to welcome his new family, but an innocent child pointed his hand at him. “A demon,” the child said before his mother clasped her palm against his mouth, shushing him down.

“He’s not a demon. He’s our savior.” She bowed to him. “He’s our king.”

The demon in the darkness was the answer to their prayer all along. The lost hero. The new emperor. The Wolf of The North.

Michizane brought his people together, protected them under his claws and teeth, and guided them to live a life full of love and forgiveness. The empire that started small, grew immensely over the years as more people came to seek the taste of serenity that he provided. Centuries passed by, and Nymeria remained prosperous. They said their soils were blessed by the deities, that when a man tossed a broken branch into the dirt, the earth would restore it to its glory by the next morning. Food was never scarce. Children never ran out of laughter. Men guffawed all day and mothers sang their favorite lullabies to their smiling babies. People created names for their Gods, and they chanted them in their prayers with their eyes closed and their heads bowed low enough for their skin to graze the earth.

But a thousand prayers were left unheard once a man, driven by his vanity and lust for power, claimed the throne and betrayed his ancestors’ will. The Gods stopped giving them their blessings, and they simply watched from the heavens above.

And they watched how Nymeria slowly began to rot from the inside.

Emperor Yuuki Okkotsu was not born a vile man. He was just like Michizane himself. Determined. Goal-driven. Strong and courageous. A respectable, handsome young man who would never lay a hand on the innocents. He wished only to preserve peace in his kingdom. The only thing that separated them was the fact that Michizane kept the turmoil in his chest buried deep behind the smile that he showcased to his people. He would rather suffer alone than bring his people to shed tears with him. Yuuki Okkotsu, on the other hand, was not one to put on a facade. When he was suffused with joy, the women rejoiced in pretty clothes and the men fell asleep with smiles on their faces. When anger consumed him, he let his wrath burn everything around him. When he was swallowed by grief, the children cried in his presence.

Nymeria was an ally to every kingdom, except one: The Dricans. Known as The Golden Lions, they were powerful, fierce, and strong like the king of the jungle itself. They were one of the seven kingdoms that presided over the continent, second in strength only to the wolves. But unlike the Nymerians who were content with living within the borders of their land, the Dricans wanted more. Fueled by greed, the lions roared and the wolves perceived it as a threat.

It was the last night of winter when a Nymerian princess was captured by the Dricans. They sliced her flesh open, destroyed her honor, and sent back her corpse to her brother, the king himself. The Dricans sent their regards, a message strapped to her casket said. The emperor remained muted but the direwolves howled. And the world watched with bated breath as he took his revenge.

The diplomatic acts between the two kingdoms did not work as the emperor was determined to make Drican pay for their sins. Insulted by his act, they decided to settle it for good. Yuuta Okkotsu, Yuuki’s first-born child, witnessed the terror that the Dricans spread throughout their lands from the spaces between his mother’s fingers. Drican invaded their home at the break of dawn, burning down their fields and tainting their crystal lakes with shades of crimson. Though shocked by the sudden aggression, Nymeria was strong enough to put up a fight.

The war between the two dynasties lasted for the entire summer. Blood of Nymerian warriors pooled and dried on the ground, their skins scorched by the blazing sun, frozen when the night kissed them goodbye. Many innocent lives were taken away. A widow’s wail echoed through the night, and the fireflies went silent as they mourned her husband’s death. The emperor was running out of options. He couldn’t win without a new source of power. And in his desperate need, his advisor whispered in his ear.

There was a rumor, he said, that a witch lived somewhere in a forested ravine in the rugged mountain that stood a hundred miles away from the palace. A lady with ginger hair and a smile wicked enough to spread goosebumps on a man’s skin. Nobara, they called her, a strange name for a strange woman, but Yuuki wanted her more than he longed to feast on a wild boar. He sent twelve brave men to take her captive. Only five of them returned, dragging the witch behind them like cattle. 

The emperor asked her to create a spell, one that would grant him an immense amount of power. He informed her that it was necessary for him to protect his realm, to give his people the peaceful life they desired, just like in the old days. The witch, knowing that Drican was the one who waged the war, granted him his wish. She cast a spell on him, and he perceived it as a gift. A blessing from the Gods, he believed. Her only warning for him was to not harm the innocents, an easy feat as he had sworn to protect them even before she shrouded him with her magic.

For her spell to work, a sacrifice was necessary. A human’s life. The more he killed, the stronger he became. Yuuki could feel the surge of energy flowing through his system as he drove his sword deep inside his opponent’s chest. Anguish was a hurricane churning inside his chest that he tried to put a blind eye on. There was no need for the two kingdoms to sacrifice the lives of their brave men, but it was a point of no return.

The emperor deceived himself by believing that one death of his enemy would guarantee a life for his people. He stopped seeing the Dricans as humans, and perceived them as demons instead. And by the power bestowed by the Gods, he would send them back to the land of the dead.

The emperor had the strength to incapacitate a whole army by himself. Within three days, the Dricans kneeled before him, pleading for mercy. Their foreheads were glued to the ground, their body shaking in fear, and their lips were bitten hard to suppress their tears. Yuuki, for once, stopped raising his sword. He tried to find the will within himself to forgive, but once it was found, a Drican soldier, unwilling to surrender, rose to his feet, snatched a knife hidden underneath his cloak, and tossed it forward. The dagger pierced through the air, aiming straight for the Yuuki’s head but the spell protected him, hardened his skin, making it impenetrable. There was not a scratch on his body, and not a drop of his blood was shed. The dagger clattered on the earth before he retrieved it with one hand. In the next second, the Drican soldier’s head was split into two, his own knife flying past through his skull. 

The Dricans didn’t seek mercy, Yuuki concluded. They sought a chance to betray him, to strike him down when he was in his most vulnerable state. He wouldn’t give it to them. He wouldn’t let a traitor walk on his land.

And so the emperor sent an order to slaughter them all. Every Drican, let it be men, women, or infants—everyone must die. He was swallowed by his wrath that he forgot the caution the witch had given him. And when he took an innocent’s life for the first time, the amount of energy that flowed through him was a hundred times more intense. The witch had lied to him, Yuuki thought. Innocent lives didn’t weaken the spell, it strengthened it. Killing a faithful wife would grant him the same amount of power that he felt when he slaughtered ten vicious men. Killing a child would give him the strength to crack the earth open with a swing of his sword. With every innocent life he took, the greater magic he possessed. 

The war lasted for months but it ended in one night. It was not followed by cheers of victory, only eerie silence.

Drican had fallen, and from their ashes, Nymeria rose stronger than ever.

Peace returned once again, but it was never the same. Before he ascended to the throne, the emperor was once a kind, loving husband, and a doting parent to his two children, Yuuta and Rika. Now, his sanity deteriorated with each passing second. The spell got to his head. He became addicted to power. He murdered each of his enemies but they never granted him the same power that he felt when he took innocent lives. He needed it. He needed to kill. But when he had run out of enemies to slay, his lust for power turned him blind.

Yuuta, a twelve-year-old boy at that time, was unable to catch a wink of sleep. It was the night of the full moon when he stepped down from his bed, dragging his little feet as he made his way to his parent’s chamber. He wished to see his mother, wanting to fall asleep with his head on her lap as he listened to the same lullaby she always hummed and sang to him to wash away his nightmares. It was childish of him to still want to be spoiled this way despite his age, but his mother never complained once. She found him endearing, and she was his first love. 

The little boy landed a hand on the door, pushing it open as he rubbed his eyes away from sleep. “Mother,” he called but no one came to answer. Stepping further inside the room, he witnessed his mother lay down on the bed, her long black hair strewn across her pillow. Looming above her, trapping her waist between his knees, was the man who wore the same face as his father. But instead of a smile and affection in his eyes, the man bared his teeth, his sapphire eyes glowing as he curled his strong fingers around her neck, choking the life out of her.

Yuuta was petrified, his feet icebound to the ground as he watched with his big blue eyes shaking in disbelief. By the time he found his voice, his mother’s body had turned limp. Her beautiful eyes had lost their gleam, and she stared hollowly at her husband’s face. Yuuta saw the way his father sighed in relief, almost as if he was drowning in ecstasy. Yuuki stared at his hands, laughing as he felt power coursing through his veins. He felt alive, better than he had ever been.

Then the man stopped, sensing the little noise that Yuuta made as his breath hitched in his throat. His father spun his head around, facing his child and the tiny hairs on Yuuta’s nape stood in fear.

That man was not his father. 

Yuuta ran as if the devil was chasing after him. He ran without looking back, his lungs burning and his heart bleeding. He returned to his chamber, locked the door, and pressed his back against it. His knees shook underneath his weight and he slid down to the floor. With both hands covering his mouth, he shut his eyes closed and sobbed. His younger sister, Rika, who was staying in the same room, woke up from her sleep at the sound of his muffled cry. 

“Yuuta?” She crawled down from her bed, dragging her quilt behind her as she made her way toward her brother. “Yuuta, what’s wrong?” She went down to her knees before him, checking on his face with bleary eyes. “Why are you crying? A nightmare?”

“R-Rika…” Her name was strangled in his throat. “Mother—Mother is—”

The sound of a fist meeting door was heard from the other side and Yuuta jerked violently in surprise, returning to his feet with his arms wrapped protectively around his sister. 

“Yuuta,” his father called, his thunderous voice had not been laced with the same tenderness in the last few years. “Answer the door.”

“N-no!”

“Yuuta?” Rika, who sensed the horror in her brother’s voice, started to mimic his body language. “What is happening?”

“Yuuta.” Yuuki’s voice pitched lower. 

“Go away, Father!”

Enraged, the emperor smashed the door with one hand. The children shrieked, holding each other tight as they fell to their knees. Yuuta embraced his sister close, placing his palms over her ears to silence her surroundings. The boy was still sobbing fervently, body shivering from head to toe, but in his eyes, there was a hint of bravery that Yuuki had only seen in his worst enemy. No matter how much his feet were itching to run, Yuuta was determined to protect his sister. 

“Stay away,” the boy said, peering deep into his father’s eyes with the intensity of a cornered wolf. “I won’t let you hurt Rika.”

The little girl was clutching onto his shirt, clawing at Yuuta’s chest as her tears stained his fabric. “Y-Yuuta…”

“It’s all right, Rika,” Yuuta replied, pressing his cheek against her temple as he maintained his gaze on his father’s face. The tremble in his voice was no longer as apparent as before. “I will protect you.”

The sight of his children crouching in fear before him momentarily broke the spell that fogged his thoughts. The bloodlust in his eyes flickered like candlelight being swayed by the wind before it vanished completely. As if losing his strength at once, the emperor kneeled on the ground, his face contorted in pain as he watched the siblings with his eyes rimmed by his tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuki said repeatedly as he watched his trembling hands in horror. He seemed afraid, not of anyone but himself. “Please forgive me.” He reached out a hand, wanting to take his son’s hand but the boy took a step back.

“D-don’t touch me,” Yuuta said. He could tell that whatever it was that possessed his father a moment ago had left its vessel, but his fear made him hesitant.

Grave sadness overtook the emperor’s face. “Yuuta… There are… Voices in my head.” His father confessed, and for the first time in his life, his son watched the hero who brought victory and honor to his empire—to his family—crumble in agony. “I can’t stop them… I had to do it. I needed to do it.”

“You killed Mother,” Yuuta said, each word vocalized with a dagger scratching against his throat.

His sentence robbed Yuuki out of his breath. “Haruka…” He mourned his wife’s name through gritted teeth. “I never wanted to hurt her.” The man shook his head, pleading for forgiveness. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m going insane, Yuuta. I can’t stop it. I just wanted to feel alive and the next thing I knew, I—” The man cast his gaze down to his hands, splaying his palms before he clenched them into fists. “This power is a curse. That witch… I have to find that witch to reverse it but…” He ground his jaw, trying to stop a sob from fleeing out of his mouth. “My wife… My wife is gone… I killed her…”

Yuuta did not believe his words, but he stayed in silence, watching the tears line his father’s cheeks as he cried silently in shame. When the man elevated his face, he swore to him, “I won’t hurt you. I promise I won’t hurt you. My children… You are the only ones I have left.” 

There was no guarantee that the emperor would stay true to his promise. Even the man himself didn’t find the strength to believe in it. But despite what he had done, he was still the father who nurtured him, who taught him the meaning of life, the man who made his kingdom feel like home. Yuuta felt his heart break into pieces, even more than it already had. 

On the next morning, as the servants cleaned and buried his wife’s corpse, Yuuta and Rika were escorted out of the palace without being given a chance to state their prayers. Afraid that he would harm his children in the future the way he did his wife, Yuuki sent them away to his relatives at the opposite end of the world, far away in the west. He bid his final words not with a goodbye but with an apology, leaving his children confused and shaken, but Yuuta never spoke a word. No matter how frail and heartbroken his father seemed, he would never be able to forget the wicked gleam in his eyes as he rejoiced over his wife’s death.

“I will find a way to cure myself,” his father promised them. “I will return to how I was. Your mother’s family will take care of you until then. Yuuta, Rika, we will be together again soon.”

The children traveled across the sea, accompanied by their most trusted knights to protect them and servants to attend to their needs. They rode the waves, making their way to visit their relatives in the west. That day, the sunset was the most beautiful one Yuuta had ever seen but he could not find the strength to appreciate it. And as if the sky listened to the storm that raged within his chest, the clouds turned dark and the heavens cried for his sake.

The gulls were tossed paper in a storm, flashes of white in the gray, tumbling as they struggled against the gale. Heavy droplets of rain felt like ice daggers on their skin, and the tides churned below them, tilting the ship from side to side. As the children and the servants struggled to find their way to the deck, fighting against the rainstorm, a sudden crash of waves toppled the ship and sent Yuuta’s body flying backward. He was clutching against the railing, screaming for help as he felt his fingers starting to lose grip. Beneath him, the sea rose as great mountains, anger in the form of water, turbulent and unforgiving.

He heard Rika shouting his name, her voice was a whisper among the thunders that rumbled through the sky. Before a hand could reach him, the storm stole him away.

Yuuta fell into the bottomless sea, forced to fight against its rage. And with no weapon in his hands, he let the Gods decide on his fate.

***

Tagging: @brujaovermoxy @erentoes @starry-supernova @itsalicewickedmcgee @jaeger-xo @whore4jean @ninachan00 @raechulashleigh @fqiryspit

Thank you for reading!

[nfcomics]

Night Flight Comics—6222 South State Street Latest Arrivals: Wednesday—August 23rd 2017

ACTION COMICS #986 ACTION COMICS #986 VAR ED ALL NEW FATHOM #7 CVR B CAFARO ALL NEW GUARDIANS OF GALAXY #6 ALL NEW WOLVERINE #22 ALL STAR BATMAN #12 [R] ARCHIE #23 CVR A TOM PITILLI ARCHIE #23 CVR B GREG SMALLWOOD BATGIRL #14 BATGIRL #14 VAR ED BATMAN BEYOND #11 BATMAN BEYOND #11 VAR ED BATMAN THE SHADOW #5 (OF 6) BATMAN THE SHADOW #5 (OF 6) MATTINA VAR ED BATMAN THE SHADOW #5 (OF 6) SALE VAR ED BEN REILLY SCARLET SPIDER #6 BETTIE PAGE #2 CVR A LINSNER BLACK HAMMER #12 MAIN RUBIN CVR BLACK HAMMER #12 VAR LEMIRE CVR BLUE BEETLE #12 BLUE BEETLE #12 VAR ED BUBBLEGUN VOL 2 #4 CVR A BUBBLEGUN VOL 2 #4 CVR B

CABLE #4 CALL OF DUTY ZOMBIES #6 CAVEWOMAN STARSHIP BLISH #1 CVR A MASSEY [R] CLUE #2 CVR B DANIEL [R] CLUE #3 CVR A SCHOONOVER [R] CONAN THE SLAYER #12 DAREDEVIL #25 DARK NIGHTS METAL #1 (OF 6) [R] DARKNESS BATMAN 20TH ANNIVERSARY CROSSOVER COLL TP [R] DEADPOOL KILLS MARVEL UNIVERSE AGAIN #4 (OF 5) DEADPOOL KILLS MARVEL UNIVERSE AGAIN #4 (OF 5) SHA DEFENDERS #2, #3 [R] DEPT H #17 DESCENDER TP VOL 04 ORBITAL MECHANICS [R] DETECTIVE COMICS #963 DETECTIVE COMICS #963 VAR ED DISNEY PRINCESS #12 DIVIDED STATES OF HYSTERIA #3 [R] DOCTOR STRANGE #24 SE DOLLFACE #8 CVR A MENDOZA DONALD & MICKEY #1 CVR A FRECCERO DONALD & MICKEY #1 CVR B PETROSSI & PROST DYING AND THE DEAD #5 EDGE OF VENOMVERSE #5 (OF 5) ELFQUEST FINAL QUEST #21 EQUILIBRIUM DECONSTRUCTION #1 MAXIMUM CASUALTIES H [R] ETERNAL EMPIRE #4 FIRST STRIKE #2 CVR A WILLIAMS II FIRST STRIKE #2 CVR B DUNBAR FIRST STRIKE #2 CVR C RONALD FIRST STRIKE #2 CVR D DUENAS FLASH #29 FLASH #29 VAR ED GAME OF THRONES CLASH OF KINGS #3 CVR A MILLER GAME OF THRONES CLASH OF KINGS #3 CVR B EXC SUB GENERATION GONE #2 GENERATIONS UNWORTHY THOR & MIGHTY THOR #1 GENERATIONS UNWORTHY THOR & MIGHTY THOR #1 KIRBY 1 GODSHAPER #4 [R] GOTG V2 STAR-LORDS TEE LIGHT BLUE T/S HAL JORDAN AND THE GREEN LANTERN CORPS #27 HAL JORDAN AND THE GREEN LANTERN CORPS #27 VAR ED HARBINGER RENEGADE #6 CVR A LAROSA [R] HARD PLACE #1 (OF 5) CVR A STELFREEZE HARD PLACE #1 (OF 5) CVR B RUMMEL HARLEY QUINN #25, #25 VAR ED [R] HARLEY QUINN #26 HARLEY QUINN #26 VAR ED HEATHEN #5 HEDGE KNIGHT JET CITY ED TP VOL 01 [R] HEDGE KNIGHT JET CITY ED TP VOL 02 SWORN SWORD [R] HELLBLAZER #13 HELLBLAZER #13 VAR ED HOWLING #2 HULK #9 [R] I AM GROOT #4 ICEMAN #4 IMAGE FIRSTS PAPER GIRLS #1 [R] JIM HENSON POWER OF DARK CRYSTAL #6 (OF 12) SUB JOSIE & THE PUSSYCATS #9 CVR A AUDREY MOK JOSIE & THE PUSSYCATS #9 CVR B JAVIER PULIDO KAMANDI CHALLENGE #8 (OF 12) VAR ED LADY DEATH MERCILESS ONSLAUGHT #1 STANDARD CVR LADY DEATH MERCILESS ONSLAUGHT #1 TUCCI SCARLET VAR LAND THAT TIME FORGOT FROM EARTHS CORE #1 CONNECTI LAZARUS X PLUS 66 #2 (OF 6) LETTER 44 #35 LOSERS TP VOL 04 CLOSE QUARTERS [R] MANHUNTER SPECIAL #1 MARVEL NOW CARNAGE ARTFX+ STATUE MASK MOBILE ARMORED STRIKE KOMMAND #9 CVR B WHALEN MASK MOBILE ARMORED STRIKE KOMMAND #9 CVR C MAZZAR MEGAMI JUN 2017 MIGHTY MORPHIN POWER RANGERS #18 MILLENNIUM GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO #2 CVR B HO [R] MOTHER PANIC #10 MOTHER PANIC #10 VAR ED MY LITTLE PONY MOVIE PREQUEL #3 CVR A PRICE MY LITTLE PONY MOVIE PREQUEL #3 CVR B FLEECS NEWTYPE JUN 2017 NIGHTWING THE NEW ORDER #1 (OF 6) NIGHTWING THE NEW ORDER #1 (OF 6) VAR ED OLD MAN LOGAN #27 [R] PAPER GIRLS #2 [R] PAPER GIRLS TP VOL 01, VOL 02, VOL 03 [R] PATHFINDER RUNESCARS #4 CVR A LAU PATHFINDER RUNESCARS #4 CVR C BORGES PETER PARKER SPECTACULAR SPIDER-MAN #1 [R] PETER PARKER SPECTACULAR SPIDER-MAN #3 PLASTIC #5 (OF 5) CVR A ROBINSON PLASTIC #5 (OF 5) CVR B HILLYARD POP DC BOMBSHELLS HARLEY QUINN VINYL FIG [R] PUNISHER #15 RED SONJA #8 CVR D COSPLAY REDNECK #5 REICH #9 (OF 12) RENATO JONES SEASON TWO #3 (OF 5) REVOLUTION AW YEAH #3 RICK & MORTY #29 RICK & MORTY #29 INCV VAR MOSS ROBOTECH #1 2ND PTG ROM VS TRANSFORMERS SHINING ARMOR #2 CVR A MILNE ROM VS TRANSFORMERS SHINING ARMOR #2 CVR B ROCHE ROM VS TRANSFORMERS SHINING ARMOR #2 CVR C SEARS SABRINA #8 CVR A REG HACK SABRINA #8 CVR B VAR SOUTHWORTH SAGA TP VOL 1, VOL 02, VOL 03, VOL 05, VOL 07 [R] SCOOBY DOO TEAM UP #29 SECRET EMPIRE #9 (OF 10) SE SECRET EMPIRE #9 (OF 10) SORRENTINO HYDRA HEROES VAR SHIPWRECK #5 SHIRTLESS BEAR-FIGHTER #3 CVR A ROBINSON SHIRTLESS BEAR-FIGHTER #3 CVR C CHABOT SISTERS OF SORROW #2 (OF 4) MAIN & MIX STAR WARS DARTH MAUL #5 (OF 5) LOPEZ VAR STAR WARS DARTH VADER #2 2ND PTG CHEUNG VAR STAR WARS DOCTOR APHRA ANNUAL #1 STAR WARS DOCTOR APHRA ANNUAL #1 NOTO VAR STAR WARS ROGUE ONE CASSIAN & K2SO SPECIAL #1 [R] SUICIDE SQUAD #24 SUICIDE SQUAD #24 VAR ED SUPERWOMAN #13 [R] TANK GIRL WORLD WAR TANK GIRL #4 (OF 4) CVR A PARS TEEN TITANS #11 TEEN TITANS #11 VAR ED TRUE BELIEVERS KIRBY 100TH DEVIL DINOSAUR #1 TRUE BELIEVERS KIRBY 100TH INHUMANS #1 TRUE BELIEVERS KIRBY 100TH NICK FURY #1 UNBEATABLE SQUIRREL GIRL #23 [R] UNDERWINTER #6 CVR B QUARTET VAR VAN HELSING VS THE WEREWOLF #1 CVR C ORTIZ [R] VAN HELSING VS THE WEREWOLF #2 CVR A CHEN VAN HELSING VS THE WEREWOLF #2 CVR B LILLY VAN HELSING VS THE WEREWOLF #2 CVR C ORTIZ VAN HELSING VS THE WEREWOLF #2 CVR D METCALF VISION DIRECTORS CUT #1 (OF 6) [R] WAR MOTHER #1 (OF 4) CVR A MACK WAR MOTHER #1 (OF 4) CVR B CRAIN WEAPON X #7 WWE #8 X-FILES (2016) #15 SUB VAR [R] X-FILES (2016) #16 CVR B WHALEN [R] X-FILES EARTH CHILDREN ARE WEIRD HC X-MEN BLUE #9 SE [R] X-MEN GOLD #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 2ND PTG SYAF VAR X-MEN GOLD #10 X-O MANOWAR (2017) #6 CVR A LAROSA X-O MANOWAR (2017) #6 CVR B JOHNSON X-O MANOWAR (2017) CVR E #4-9 PRE-ORDER EDITION BU ZOMBIE TRAMP ONGOING #38 CVR B MENDOZA RISQUE

Night Flight Comics—6222 South State Street Latest Arrivals: Wednesday—August 23rd 2017

[once-upon-a-game-of-thrones-blog]

A Pirate’s Life For Me... (Epilogue)

Ok, so this got a little heated towards the end and I have no idea what the fuck happened so... just don’t hate me. Hope you enjoyed this fic! My next one should start soon... Hopefully.

Fandoms: Games of Thrones x Once Upon a Time crossover Characters: Tyrion Lannister x female!reader x Killian Jones/Captain Hook Warnings: swearing (I’m Scottish it’s what I do), smut but not smut (just go with it) Plot: Reader is the only legitimate child (other than newly legitimised Ramsay) of Lord Roose Bolton and is promised to marry Tyrion Lannister after the Bolton’s usurp the North from the Starks. But when the handsome and mysterious Captain Hook arrives in King’s Landing she is forced to decide: are her duties to her house or to her heart?

y/n = your name

“Ha ha.” You cheered as you successfully disarmed your opponent, one of the deck hands by the name of Isaac, and pointed the tip of your sword to his throat. “Any last words, Sailor?” You mocked playfully.

“You’ve become quite the impressive swordswoman, my lady” he inclined his head respectfully, raising his hands in surrender.

“Bloody hell! Are you fucking kidding me Isaac? Stop calling me that! I’ve been part of this crew for 2 bloody years now! Y/n! My name is y/n! Might as well use it, you toss pot!” You threw your arms up in frustration, before turning to address everyone on the ship. “That goes for all of you sons of whores! Next person that calls me ‘my lady’ is going to bloody regret it!”

“Apologies y/n.” Isaac mumbled.

“Oh, shut up Isaac.” You rolled your eyes. “Kiss arse” you muttered as you stalked away, towards your quarters… and Killian’s. You didn’t look back to see the small smirk on Isaac’s lips.

“Hello, love. How’d training go?” Killian asked as you walked through the door, standing from his desk to wrap his arms around your waist and press a gentle kiss to your lips. You hum contentedly against his lips and smile softly.

“I need a better opponent. It would seem I’ve managed to best the entire crew.” You looked up into Killian’s eyes and gave him a sly smile. “Well… almost the entire crew. There’s just one person on this ship who I haven’t quite gotten the better of yet.” You let your index and middle finger walk slowly up Killian’s chest until they reached his chin.

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that.” Killian leaned down and kissed you again, more passionately this time. “So, you think you’re ready to take me on?” He challenged, releasing you and stepping back.

“Oh, abso-fucking-loutely.” You stepped closer, so your chests were just touching. “Bring. It. On. Captain Hook.” You smirked and dragged your bottom lip between your teeth. Killian gave a slight groan.

“This ought to be entertaining” He walked to the door and opened it, with a sweeping bow. “After you, my lady” He smirked putting emphasis on the last part, knowing exactly how much you hated being called that.

“Oh, you’re going to fucking regret that.” You muttered, narrowing your eyes at him angrily as you walked past, fully aware of what he was trying to do.

“I look forward to it, love.” You felt his breath tickle you neck as he whispered in your ear.

“Oh, I’ll bet you do.” You replied, looking back at him and giving him a sultry wink and a small smile. That caused him to stop in his tracks and gulp. He stood still for a moment and watched you climb the steps onto the deck, silently appreciating your figure before smirking and following you, mumbling to himself.

“Very entertaining indeed.”

“Alright lads!” Killian called, standing up on the side of the ship. “Y/n here reckons she’s a good enough swordswoman to beat me! Do you think she can do it lads?”

The crew erupted into a chorus of varied responses. Some yays, but also some nays.

“Does it matter what they think?” You pouted at Killian.

“Course not, love. I was simply curious as to how many of my crew actually support me over your lovely self.” He jumped down and stood in front of you.

“Flattery is not going to get you anywhere Killian.” You rolled your eyes and stepped back, raising your sword. “So, quit messing around.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” Killian smirked, bowing slightly then drawing his own sword.

“That’s not even funny.” You scowl.

Mr Smee calls out “FIGHT!” and the dual commences.

You’d slightly underestimated Killian’s strength and skill. But you were holding your own pretty damn well. Killian’s strategy was attack more, defend less. A good strategy, but it meant you could use this to your advantage as attacking meant he left his hook side open. His weaker side. Your speed and agility gave you a slight advantage over Killian as he struggled to keep up with you quick movements. Eventually you gained the upper hand and attacked, moving your sword so quick and precise it took mere seconds to disarm Killian. You had both his sword and your own. His sword was behind his head against the back of his neck. Yours was pointing upwards into his chin. You were pressed right up against him and he was trapped between you and the side of the ship.

“Do you surrender, sailor?” You asked. The crew erupted into hearty cheers and applause. Killian didn’t answer. He simply stared at you in awe, breathing heavily. “I’ll take that as a yes.” You dropped your arms to your sides and took a step back, freeing him.

You held his sword out towards him, expecting him to take it and stalk away in a huff. But he didn’t. He slapped the sword away and it clattered onto the deck. You stared at him wide-eyed and confused, he simply grabbed your sword. and dropped it onto the deck too.

“Killian, what are you–” you were cut off by Killian grabbing your wrist and dragging you below deck towards your shared quarters. All without saying a word. “Seriously Killian, what are you doing?” you asked as he hauled you into your room and all but threw you on the bed before slamming the door. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows as he turned to face you and removed his hook, setting it on the desk. “Oh.” You breathed, knowing exactly what he was doing. He shrugged out of his leather jacket then crawled up the bed to lay over you. You gently fell back into the pillow as Killian slowly placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You hummed and ran your hands up underneath his shirt feeling the firm muscles of his abdomen as he kissed along your jaw and down your neck. “If this is what happens when I beat you in a dual, we should dual more often.” You chuckled.

“Couldn’t agree more, love” He breathed against you neck, his voice gruff as he oh so gently rolled his hips into you. You moaned quietly, pulling Killian’s shirt over his head and throwing it across the room. He returned to your lips, kissing you deeply as his hand ran up your side to cup your breast. You gasped and Killian took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, grabbing his hair.

Killian pulled away slowly, looking you in the eye before whispering “I love you, y/n”

“I love you too, Captain Hook.” You smiled and pulled him back down to your lips.

[tuseriesdetv]

Noticias de series de la semana: Reunión 'Glee' en el crossover de DC

Renovaciones de series

TNT ha renovado The Librarians por una cuarta temporada

ABC ha renovado The Middle por una novena temporada

Incorporaciones y fichajes de series

Darren Criss (Glee) será el villano Music Meister en el crossover musical de The Flash y Supergirl.

Kristen Wiig (Saturday Night Live, Ghostbusters) será recurrente en la tercera temporada de The Last Man on Earth. Se desconocen detalles del personaje.

Emily Kinney (The Walking Dead, Conviction) será Casey, la asistente de Jane (Kyra Sedgwick), en Ten Days in the Valley. Con ella, se unen también Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (Game of Thrones, Suicide Squad), Francois Battiste (The Family, The Good Wife), Currie Graham (Westworld, Longmire), Nelson Lee (The Night Shift, NCIS: New Orleans), Abigail Pniowsky (Arrival), Josh Randall (Pitch, Quarry), Ali Stroker (Glee), Ella Thomas (Ballers, NCIS: LA), Beth Triffon (Dr. Ken, The Middle) y Mark L. Young (Code Black, We're The Millers).

Matthew Goode (The Good Wife, Downton Abbey) será Antony Armstrong-Jones, conocido como Lord Snowdon, en la segunda temporada de The Crown.

Breeda Wool (UnREAL, Betas) será regular en Mr. Mercedes como Lou Linklatter. Kelly Lynch (Magic City, 90210) será Deborah Hartsfield, la madre de Brady (Harry Treadaway). Mary-Louise Parker (Weeds, The West Wing) será recurrente como Janey Patterson, la hermana de la dueña del Mercedes robado, y Justine Lupe (Younger, Frances Ha) será regular como Holly, prima de éstas.

Justine Lupe (Younger, Frances Ha) será recurrente en Snowfall como Victoria, alguien que llega a la ciudad buscando a su hermana perdida.

Noah Gray-Cabey (Heroes, Code Black) y Debby Ryan (Jessie, Radio Rebel) podrían protagonizar Cloak and Dagger.

Emma Thompson (Love Actually, Nanny McPhee) será la Reina Isabel I en un episodio de la segunda temporada de Upstart Crow.

Aisha Dee (Sweet/Vicious, Chasing Life) será regular en Channel Zero: No-End House como Jules, la mejor amiga de Margot (Amy Forsyth).

Will Tudor (Humans, Game of Thrones) será Sebastian en la segunda temporada de Shadowhunters.

La segunda temporada de The Girlfriend Experience tendrá dos historias nuevas e independientes, una protagonizada por Anna Friel (Pushing Daisies, Marcella) y Louisa Krause (Billions, Martha Marcy May Marlene), y la otra por Carmen Ejogo (Selma).

Paula Patton (Precious, Mirrors) protagonizará Somewhere Between, sobre una madre que sabe cuándo y cómo matarán a su hija, pero no quién ni por qué.

Nolan Gerard Funk (Glee, Awkward) será recurrente en Counterpart como Angel Eyes, alguien enviado del otro lado con malas intenciones.

Bokeem Woodbine (Fargo, Saving Grace) será recurrente en la segunda temporada de Underground. Será Daniel, un albañil que también lucha por la libertad.

Tony Danza (Who's the Boss?, Taxi), Ian Nelson (The Hunger Games, Teen Wolf) y Jane Levy (Suburgatory, Don't Breathe) protagonizarán There's Johnny!, comedia de ocho episodios creada por Paul Reiser (Mad About You) sobre lo que ocurre en el backstage de The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, en Los Ángeles durante los años setenta, tratando temas como Nixon o la Guerra de Vietnam. Danza interpretará al conocido productor Fred de Cordova; Levy será Joy, una coordinadora del programa; y Nelson será Andy, un joven fan de Johnny Carson que se muda desde Nebraska para conseguir un trabajo en el show. Roger Bart (Revenge, Desperate Housewives) será recurrente como Angelo, el encargado del guardarropa. Completan el reparto T'keyah Keymah (Cosby, That's So Raven), Nate Smith (Red Oaks, Odd Mom Out), David Hoffman (I Live with Models), Daniel Strauss y Andrew Schulz.

Kassandra Clementi (Home and Away, Single Ladies) y Jaime Callica (Wayward Pines) se unen a la tercera temporada de UnREAL. Serán la nueva novia de Chet (Craig Bierko) y el nuevo interés amoroso de Jay (Jeffrey Bowyer-Chapman). Los diez pretendientes de Serena (Caitlin FitzGerald) serán interpretados por Bart Edwards, Alex Hernandez (Hemlock Grove), Adam Demos, Alex Sparrow (Dancing with the Stars), Joe Abraham (American Crime Story), Tyler Hynes (Saving Hope, The Girlfriend Experience), Marcus Rosner (When Calls the Heart), Cameron Bancroft (Cedar Cove, Beverly Hills 90210), Terry Chen (The 100, Continuum) y el Vine star Melvin Gregg (Freakish).

Yolonda Ross (Treme, The Get Down) y Jacob Latimore (Collateral Beauty) se unen como regulares a The Chi. Serán Jada, enfermera y madre de Emmett; y Emmett, un mujeriego que acaba de ser padre.

Mark Duplass (Togetherness) y Katja Herbers (Manhattan, The Leftovers) serán David Kaczynski (hermano de Unabomber) y su esposa en Manifesto. Brían F. O'Byrne (Aquarius, Mildred Pierce) será el líder de la unidad de análisis de comportamiento del FBI.

Tahar Rahim (The Last Panthers) protagonizará The Looming Tower, serie de Hulu de diez episodios adaptación del libro de Lawrence Wright sobre el 11-S. Será Ali Soufan, joven agente del FBI.

Bryan Singer (X-Men, X-Men: Days of Future Past) dirigirá el piloto, encargado ayer, del nuevo proyecto de FOX y Marvel sobre los X-Men.

Pósters de series

     Fechas de series

The Good Karma Hospital se estrena en ITV el 5 de febrero

La segunda temporada de You Me Her (Audience Network) se estrena el 14 de febrero

La segunda temporada de Lucky Man llega a Sky1 el 24 de febrero

Patriot (Amazon) se estrena el 24 de febrero

Clique se estrena en BBC Three el 4 de marzo

La segunda temporada de Love (Netflix) llega el 10 de marzo

La quinta y última temporada de Samurai Jack se estrena en Cartoon Network el 11 de marzo

La quinta y última temporada de Saving Hope (CTV) se estrena el 12 de marzo

La cuarta y última temporada de Rogue llega a Audience Network el 22 de marzo

13 Reasons Why (Netflix) llega el 31 de marzo

La tercera y última temporada de The Leftovers (HBO) se estrena el 16 de abril

The Bold Type (Freeform) se estrena el 11 de julio

Tráilers de series

The Leftovers - Temporada 3

13 Reasons Why

Riviera

Love - Temporada 2

Lucky Man - Temporada 2

The Blacklist: Redemption

Chicago Justice

Otras imágenes

Las chicas del cable

El Ministerio del Tiempo - Temporada 3

Thandie Newton en Line of Duty

Feud

12 Monkeys - Temporada 3