#game of thrones land is truly so pretty

[letterkive]

I recently went to Dubrovnik and it was beautiful

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Dragon Jack Fantasy AU Headcanons

So, I know that Jack’s fursona is a snake, because he wants warm cuddles his sunshine won’t run away from, which is where we get naga Jack, but what if he was a different sort of mythical creature?

No, not an incubus, but you can check out my incubus headcanons here and here. I’m talking about a different fantastical creature that still has a few scaly features.

It’s the year of the dragon, and that got me thinking about a certain piece of absolutely gorgeous artwork my friend Mars made back in August, which in turn made me think, dragon Jack AU?

Dragon Jack AU.

Oh hell yeah, let’s get fantastical.

Credit for this beautiful artwork and fueling my inspiration goes to the marvelous Mars, who you can find over here on tumblr and on twitter. Please consider popping on by to leave a kind word or two. Trust me, you won’t regret looking at all of her jaw-droppingly stunning art!

Content warnings: There is going to be spice in these headcanons, and it’s going to get a bit kinky at times. I mean, we’re talking about Jack as a dragon getting frisky with his sunshine. Bad Dragon didn’t get its name for nothing after all. Oh and there’s also some dark themes like going insane from isolation, families being awful to one another, exploitation of workers, bullshit politics in a medieval inspired fantasy setting, deadly monsters attacking people, yandere obsession, that sort of thing.

Overall it’s going to be pretty lighthearted, especially in comparison to the super dark and angst-filled hurt/comfort story that I recently posted, so this post shouldn’t get more intense than the game itself.

The Cursed Prince

Let us begin this AU with the tale of Sunny Day Jack, a poor soul who was damned to be left alone and forgotten by all who knew him. In this case, that place he was left to be forgotten was a castle in the middle of a dark and twisted land, bound by a curse that not even the strength of a dragon can break.

Jack wasn’t always this way. Long ago, he was someone grand, a prince by the name of Joseph, though not in line for any sort of throne. He was the spare of the spare, the unwanted and unneeded family member who was a risk to the true heir to the crown. He had to learn how to be strong and cunning to survive the castle politics, while at the same time he was overlooked and ignored by all.

Initially, Joseph tried all he could to earn favor with his family, to be loved by them, but no one cared. Because his family didn’t care about him, and he had no “purpose” in existing except as an obstacle to the heir to the throne, others often ignored him as well to not risk showing favor and appearing to side with him against the current forerunners to the crown. Acting out and creating mischief that the royal family couldn’t ignore was the only way for Joseph to get people to pay attention to him.

Unfortunately, Joseph pushed his luck one too many times. He ignored a family member’s warning that it would be best if he lived as a dead rat, forgotten and unseen. An assassin struck in the guise of a tutor during one of his lessons. He barely escaped, but uncovered a terrible truth. The family he always hoped might someday truly see him and love him had been behind the assassination attempt. How many members of his family were involved in the plot, he never knew for sure, but their indifference and disdain for him left him with no one he could trust.

The unwanted prince was then forced to flee the kingdom, never to return. Joseph lived as a wanderer, hiding his identity. He changed his appearance as much as he could, even stealing a potion from a wizard once. Sadly, the potion he stole could only change his hair from brown to blue, but it was better than nothing, and he quickly grew fond of the look.

Yes, blue hair is something natural in this setting. This is a fantasy world where dragons and magic exist after all. We can have people with anime hair and eye colors. ;3

The unwanted prince learned the ways of the world firsthand and took many names as he drifted along like the wind. No longer a spoiled prince, he learned how to put on a smile, to placate people instead of antagonize them. He was still alone, forced to be a wanderer until he was far, far away from his homeland, but eventually he tried to set up roots. There, he took a humble job as a jester for a noble, hoping that maybe he could find a new life, one where he could be seen and loved.

Fortune smiled on Jack, as more and more people came to watch his shows, and he earned the stage name of Sunny Day Jack. His performances with silly jokes and stories with sound moral lessons delighted the children. Nobility took notice of him, and he started to make real connections and a real life for himself in this distant land. The lord ruling over the country even eventually took notice of him, a rich and powerful ruler that could afford to throw plenty of gold this entertaining jester’s way… provided he was always entertaining.

Sadly, his good fortune was not to last. Jack got too much attention from the nobility, and a traveler familiar with his homeland took notice of how eerily similar the jester looked to the lost prince.

Word eventually got back to those who saw Prince Joseph, however unwanted and overlooked he may have been, as a risk that could not be accepted. His popularity, however frivolous, made certain people of power nervous that perhaps one day he might return and lay claim to the throne of his homeland.

It was during a performance that the world came crashing down around Sunny Day Jack. The lord that favored him and helped him most with his fame and acclaim had betrayed him to his homeland in exchange for more riches. The trap was sprung as Jack stood before a crowd of hundreds, a sudden accusation ringing out that he was a notorious criminal who had done several heinous acts while the knights of the land came at him in force to arrest him. He barely managed to escape, though not unscathed, his new life destroyed and forever sullied to all who knew his name.

This time the pursuers were relentless. Jack wasn’t known here as a prince in this foreign land. There was no one who would show even a token loyalty to his royal blood and aid him. He was now a heinous criminal, wanted dead or alive, with none willing to give him shelter. There was no way for him to use his former name or royal bloodline to gain assistance, as Prince Joseph was long since declared dead.

Jack was a clever man, and a clever man who has nothing left to lose is capable of anything, including mutually assured destruction. His time as a jester wasn’t spent as a simple fool. Though he tried to be sincere when forging his friendships, truly wanting a life of happiness where he could be loved for who he was, he had tasted betrayal once, and it cost him everything but his life. Sadly, he was prepared should this happen again. He learned how to be charming, and he used his appealing and kind nature to learn secrets that might help him one day.

One of these secrets Jack learned was of magic treasure that the lord’s family guarded and exploited for generations. He also learned of a few secret passages in the lord’s castle, which helped him to elude his pursuers. With nearly all the knights put to the task to capture or kill the escaped criminal, this left the castle vault’s security unusually lax. It granted him an opportunity that could save him, or damn them all.

There in the vault was one of a set of golden cuffs, the symbol and pride of the lord’s family, and the very thing that allowed them to take dominion over the land generations ago and rule to this day. These cuffs were said to possess a magic too powerful for any one person to control, so no one dared to wield more than one at a time, but the truth was that if anyone was foolish enough to do so, they would unleash a terrible curse that would doom the land. This was why they were kept separately, for the safety of everyone.

These cuffs have their own history to them, as a fae was tricked into creating them, a bargain for power and a price not yet paid, which was the reason behind their curse. I could ramble on about ideas I have for how they came to be, but their backstory doesn’t really matter to Jack… yet.

Betrayed, branded a criminal, his hopes for a new life dashed to pieces, and everything spiraling out of control, Jack managed to break into the vault and steal the golden cuff hidden there. Before word of the theft could spread, Jack repaid the lord for his betrayal, launching a surprise attack and stealing the other cuff before it could be used by the lord to fight back against him.

With the power of both of the golden cuffs, Jack defeated all the knights that came for him, but the power he used went out of control as the curse took hold. The power was too much for a human’s body to contain, so it changed him into a fierce creature that was made of magic, a dragon.

The land around him changed as well, the natural ley lines of magic in the land exploding out in all directions and birthing all sorts of monsters from cracks in the earth. It was chaos, and those that could fled. It was a terrible night of horrors so great that survivors who witnessed the apocalyptic destruction dared not speak of it. Over time, the plants in this tainted land grew strange from the saturation of magic, and what few animals that braved to remain in this twisted land were changed as well. The land, once prosperous and full of smiles and laughter, became a dark and foreboding place where humans refused to linger long, for fear that they too would be cursed and forever changed.

Years passed, and with the survivors refusing to speak of what happened, all traces of what happened the night the kingdom fell were lost to history. The name of the country was lost as well. The place was only known as the dark woods now, named for its twisted features and the heavy clouds that covered the land and hid it from the sun. Speculation of its creation sprang up over the years, the details growing more fanciful from storyteller to storyteller until it became only myths. The closest to the truth was that the fae had regained the land and turned it wild, which, in a way, they had when a clever but desperate prince turned fool unleashed the fae’s curse that had long been kept at bay.

What happened to that foolish prince? The curse kept him bound to the heart of the land, making it nearly impossible for him to stray far from the castle where he unleashed the curse. The more he struggled to escape, the more ways the curse would manifest to bind him to the land, chains erupting from the ground to hold him, thorns of an unnatural, cold substance blotting out the sky, monsters birthing from the land to hold him back and inflict pain on him until he could no longer fight back.

Jack had become a powerful dragon, but his power came from the very curse that turned the land into his own personal hell. His body was warped, a scaled monster with wings and horns, terrifying to behold. Those who saw him would flee his presence, save for those that tried to slay the beast that legend has it is the heart of the curse.

The dragon of the dark woods, unnamed and feared by all, was known as the master of the dark woods, dangerous and cunning. Adventurers that dare risk going into the cursed land for its materials rich in magic are wary of the great and powerful beast. Its scales gleamed of fire, its eyes spoke of endless hunger, and its power was unmatched. None could hope to slay this beast, and all who tried all failed, for only the curse itself is more powerful than the beast it created.

Despite it all, Jack struggled to hold onto his humanity. He read every book in the castle, every scroll and scrap of paper, desperate to learn the way to undo this curse he unleashed. Naturally, this was difficult for him to do with giant claws, but unfortunately for the former prince, he had nothing but time to learn how to use his altered body.

As the world forgot about the lost prince, the sunny jester, and the awful day an entire kingdom fell along with the names of all three, Jack started to forget his humanity bit by bit. He didn’t learn how to break the curse, but he did learn of other magical artifacts that had been gathered in the castle long ago, including an enchanted belt that would allow him to change his form into whatever he pleased. He used it to become a “human,” but by that point he didn’t quite remember what he used to look like. The passing years eroded his memory of humanity, and he had gotten used to his imposing dragon body. The result was a form that was a mishmash of both, a humanoid man with scales, a tail, wings, claws on his hands and feet, pointed ears and fangs, with horns and blue hair.

Jack might have started to forget things over the years of solitude, but he was at least certain that he had blue hair when he was still human.

Funny enough, no matter how large or small Jack became thanks to the magic of the belt, the golden cuffs remained fastened to his wrists. The curse wouldn’t allow them to be removed, only warp in size and shape to match whatever form his body took. Even if he were to, say, transform into a copy of a different person to fool someone, his golden cuffs would give away the ruse.

When Jack learned how to transform back into a “human,” he went through the motions of being a human in his empty castle filled with riches that were all but useless to him. He wore clothes again, even learned how to alter the fancy clothes left behind to suit his tastes. He learned how to cook the strange plants and animals of this cursed land. He no longer had any need to eat due to the magic of the land sustaining his flesh, but food still tasted good, and there was some satisfaction to be had from creating something. He kept himself sane with what hobbies he could, learning new things, but he could never learn how he could free himself from his lonely hell.

The presence of adventurers into the heart of his land was both a blessing and a curse. It was rare that it happened, and in fact it was several years after the land changed that anyone dared to venture into the dark woods for fear of being cursed for doing so. It was years more before they found its master at the heart of the cursed land.

At first, Jack was elated. He tried his best to be friendly, overly so, desperate for company and help, but this was before he found the belt that made him at least passably human. It had been so long since he had been around another human that he hadn’t tried to speak, and with his draconic muzzle, all that came out were terrible growls and unholy noises. The adventurers that found him only saw a great horned beast with claws and fangs, another monster to slay for materials, riches, and acclaim.

Jack never wanted to kill anyone. He learned to fight when he had to, though he tried to avoid killing if he could. Unfortunately, when he unleashed the curse, people perished in the chaos, much to his dismay. Though he tried to approach these adventurers peacefully, he would not allow them to cause him further suffering. His power was so great that it was difficult to hold back, so the damage he could cause was severe. He would let those who fought him live if he could, allowing them to flee, but none saw this as a mercy. He became a nightmare spoken in hushed whispers, a challenge for adventurers to overcome, rather than a lost soul desperate to be free.

In a twisted way, over time Jack started to look forward to anyone brave enough to venture into the heart of the dark woods, even if the result was always violence. It was always a rare thing due to the intense danger of the dark woods. Certainly, they would always try to kill him, but at least he got to spend time with another human being! Being alone messes with a person’s mind, especially for such a long time. Humans are pack animals not meant for solitude.

Sometimes these adventurers would leave stuff behind, and Jack kept them. Dragons have an instinct to horde, and the castle is already filled with treasure. Plus they were reminders that humans were still out there and that someday, hopefully, he’d join them as one of them once again.

Jack tried his best to learn how to talk with his new body, to sound friendly instead of fierce. Unfortunately, oftentimes he found himself getting the opposite result, the words coming out of his muzzle sounding strange and uncanny, which only added to the nightmarish legend of the master of the dark woods.

Every encounter with Jack was a battle more fierce than the last, and the dragon’s legend only grew. His attempts to follow after the humans who fled from him led to the land itself stopping him, and others would be caught in the crossfire. To Jack, the humans that came to visit him were his only hope, and he would struggle harder against the curse to escape, to be with them. This made the curse fight back even harder in more brutal ways, summoning worse monsters. Soon the heart of the dark woods was known as a hellish place, where the land itself would turn against you if you tried to escape its brutal master that hunted you relentlessly.

Over the years, humans adapted, as they often do. Adventurers learned to stick with the outer fringes of the dark woods to harvest materials. It was the least dangerous, relatively speaking, and what could be gained deeper in was not worth the cost, especially if they strayed to the heart of the land where its terrible master lay in wait for any poor soul to enter.

It’s been a long, long time since Jack has seen another human, and he’s slowly going insane from solitude. He does what he can to distract himself or escape, trying desperately to hold onto his humanity, but it erodes bit by bit with each passing year. Even gaining the ability to transform into a “human” form hasn’t stopped his ever steady decline into madness. He fears that one day he might lose his humanity completely and become the mindless monster that those who fought him believed him to be.

Perhaps all that Jack and the dark woods need to heal is a little bit of sunshine.

Beyond the Dark Woods

Outside the fringes of the cursed land, time marched on. Years went by, rulers came and went, borders changed as land was annexed or reverted to wilderness. A lot can happen over the decades, especially in a fantasy world filled with magic, monsters, and mischievous fae.

How long Jack was trapped alone in the dark woods is a mystery. Maybe it’s 40 years, or perhaps a lot longer than that.

Regardless, the homeland that once had a lost prince named Joseph is still around, a relatively stable country all things considered. In fact, it had grown over the years thanks to annexing land from other countries that had been weakened by the results of the curse. Monsters often wandered out of the dark woods, putting nearby villages in danger and impressing the need for more adventurers to cull the monsters that threatened human life. What was once a kingdom had grown into an empire, growing prosperous with its many strong knights and adventurers, though like any place, it had its own share of problems.

But enough politics, let’s get into the other characters, shall we?

MC is a knight, as demonstrated by the lovely Thea in Mars’ art. Well… they aspire to be a knight anyway. Bullshit politics have kept them as a squire to a knight of higher nobility since they were a teenager. It’s been over 10 years already! How much longer do they have to wait to become a knight? They’re sick of having to polish and shine Barry’s armor, and if they have to scrub his codpiece one more time…

Yup, Barry is a knight in this AU, though only technically. Nobility sometimes get granted a knight title for some reason or another, usually as a token to honor them and/or their families. These nobles usually  were just knights in name only, parading around as if they’re this grand figure when other knights did the real battling. They can play the hero without ever actually having to go into battle and send squires to do the menial work for them.

In a sense, Barry is a rich man who bought a title because it was cool, and he makes a big show of it. It’s pretty much a vanity project, and a way to increase his clout to maybe move up in the ranks of nobility. He has MC announce his presence grandly, something just as over the top as the greeting to Yogurtopia. Perhaps something like… “Announcing the great, honorable, and very handsome and still very single and looking for a bride, Sir Barry of [insert surname here].” Or something like that, maybe with his noble title thrown in there for good measure. Maybe he could insist his squire plays a horn first…

Man, even with a proclamation heralding Barry wherever he goes, no one is interested in him. He hasn’t had a date in way too long. Maybe he needs his armor to be polished a little brighter.

While MC isn’t Barry’s only squire, they are the one often left doing the work, as other squires slack off or wind up getting elevated to knight despite being younger than MC is. It’s understandably really, really frustrating for MC. They come from a lesser noble house, just barely above a commoner, so they’re an easy mark for any higher ranked noble to rub the power difference in their face.

Really, it’s all enough to make MC consider quitting to become an adventurer. Sure, adventurers are basically mercenaries for hire at the guild and the jobs can be infrequent, and money can be hard to come by, but… Ah, who are they kidding? The squire job might suck, but at least they get the security of steady pay, regular meals, a place to sleep, mild prestige, and they don’t have to go camping in the woods for days on end hunting some specific monster or harvesting a certain number of rare herbs.

Besides, MC admires the knights (aside from Barry). Their best friend became a knight a few years ago, lucky dog. Still, Shaun didn’t rub it in their face like the pal he is. Shaun looks so regal in his shiny silvery armor, even having it adorned with pretty badass etchings and other decorations. There’s a very feline feeling to it as well, since cat daddy has to be cat knight in this AU. Hey, I don’t make the rules.

…Oh, wait. :3c

Anyway, the other knights can be pretty cool as well. There’s this one knight who has been friendly, though MC doesn’t know his name yet. The guy acts strangely shy when they’re around, which is confusing to them. They’re just a squire after all, not a cool knight in studded leather armor like him.

Poor Nick has a crush on MC in this universe too and is pretty tongue tied around them. MC might still be a squire, but there’s just something about them that lights up a room. Their spirit isn’t crushed despite the fact that they should’ve been a knight years ago. He envies how easily Sir Shaun can chat with them.

Of course, Shaun is in the same boat as Nick, in that he also has a crush on MC and can be pretty clumsy with how he tries to express it. Still, in spite of this, he would have tried to see if they could be something more if not for a certain scandal that happened.

The reason why MC is still a squire, or at least one of the biggest reasons, is because of rumors that they were the secret lover of Prince Ian, the current heir to the throne.

Of course, given that MC is barely above a commoner, the idea of them getting together with the crown prince is scandalous. They got to know each other as children, with MC serving as a page to play with the young prince. When the queen caught wind that the prince saw them as anything more than a playmate in their teen years, their relationship got exceedingly strained.

Ian is in love with MC, and they felt the same, at least at one point. All the time they spent together while growing up led to fondness, then sweet first love. Unfortunately, they knew early on how their different stations meant that the chances of them being together were almost non-existent. This led to a lot of mutual pining, moments where they were tempted to act on their feelings, and some secret encounters between the two.

In spite of the queen’s interference separating them, MC and Ian saw each other in secret as much as they could. They started a forbidden romance together, and the two of them convinced themselves that maybe, somehow, they could defy the odds.

But the weight of the crown hangs heavy on the head. As Ian was swept up in his duties and the time he would be crowned as king drew ever closer, he had less and less time to spend with MC. His mother’s interference certainly didn’t help, especially since she was trying to get him engaged to a high ranked noble woman to ensure that he would be able to sire the next generation of royalty.

While yes this fantasy world is far more open with gender expression and loving others regardless of gender, nobles tend to be uptight when it comes to making sure their bloodline and power continues. Plus Ian’s mom is still abusive and controlling of her son in this universe too, and she uses not only religion to bully Ian but politics and duty as well. As queen, she has a lot more power too, and a lot more flying monkeys to spy on her son and interfere.

In a way, it’s lucky that the queen hasn’t decided that MC is a threat that must be entirely eliminated at all costs. No assassination plots… yet. Mostly it’s interference and petty revenge by forcing MC to remain a squire instead of a knight. She could throw MC out, but then how can she occasionally be petty if MC never comes to the palace? MC might be Barry’s squire, but everyone follows the queen’s orders, and a narcissist needs attention and others to bow down to them.

Unfortunately, the queen’s schemes did succeed. Ian, in a moment of weakness, fell for the seductive charms of one of his potential fiancees. He felt awful for betraying MC, to the point that he had to see them despite the risk of his mother catching them, so that he could confess what he had done and beg for forgiveness.

MC’s heart was broken, but what was worse was that it became a huge scandal. Someone had seen Ian’s confession and begging, and soon word spread like wildfire. Now everyone knew that they had secretly been lovers and that the prince was begging a mere squire for forgiveness. Ian’s reputation took a hit, while MC’s outright tanked due to the scandal, and things became much harder for them, and people have been keeping their distance from the squire that dared think they could become a future king’s consort.

Since then, MC has kept their distance from Ian as much as possible, and Ian, reluctantly, has given them space, knowing that he’s messed everything up for them. But… when he’s king, not even his mother will be able to stop them from being together. When he’s king, he’ll be able to fix everything. He just has to do what he can to make sure that happens. Then he and MC can finally be together in the open, stations be damned! Then he can truly make amends and be forgiven for what he’s done.

Shaun was there to support MC with their broken heart. While his becoming a knight has put a bit of distance between them, as he has more duties to attend to, including being sent away on missions for the country, he makes sure to keep in touch and meet up with them as best he can. Anyone who dares to say a bad word about MC in front of him is getting this cat’s claws.

Nick is no stranger to scandals. He’s basically the most popular knight in the realm, with countless admirers. Perhaps they could offer MC a word or two on how to deal with so much unwanted attention and rumors rumbling in the background.

A Squire’s Quest

Now, how does Jack factor into MC’s life without a compelling VHS tape to tie them together? Well, the instigating factor in this universe is that a thief made off with an important treasure, and Barry the knight was tasked with retrieving it. As Barry’s squire, MC was compelled to come with him to assist, which usually meant doing 99% of the work if there were no other squires with them at the time with Barry taking all the credit. But don’t worry, he only does it because he knows they’ll do a good job at it, and it just shows that they’re one step closer to becoming a true knight!

After traveling quite a ways, tracking down the thief (with MC doing most of the work picking up the trail in the first place), the pair realize that the thief went into the infamous dark woods.

Well, that’s not good. Sure there are areas that have been explored for materials, but still… the cursed land is quite dangerous. Barry decided that the best way to divide the work is for MC to continue to follow the thief’s trail, as they were better at tracking, and he, being much better at supervising and dealing with people, would see if anyone nearby could get information about what the thief might have been after, maybe set up a trap that MC could chase the thief into.

MC had to seriously consider their life choices up until this point, but if they quit now, that meant kissing goodbye to the stability they had going for them. Also, it’d probably bring dishonor to their name, maybe damage their lineage permanently, and so on and so forth.

Well, if they quit to become an adventurer, they’d have to do stupid things like trek through the dark woods anyway. Besides, the thief already stole a national treasure, which meant they weren’t stupid enough to go hunting for the invincible dragon guarding the heart of the forest, right? Sure there’s rumors that maybe the dragon guards the greatest treasure of all, but no way the thief is that dumb. No one’s actually ever seen any real treasure, or have a consensus on what the supposed greatest treasure is actually supposed to be.

After a hard internal debate, MC ultimately decides to brave the dark woods, tracking the thief stealthily. They may only be a squire, but they would probably be the greatest knight in the kingdom if not for politics. Their exact combat style is up to interpretation and personal preference, but they’re no stranger to slaying powerful monsters. They’re also used to Barry giving them unreasonable demands like this one.

And, hey, at least they’re not mortifying themselves by singing Barry’s praises when he enters a room while they’re busy with this stupid quest. That’s got to count for something, right?

Right?

Yeeeahh, okay, MC is obviously just lying to themselves and they know it, but damned if they do, damned if they don’t. They swear to themselves that they’ll only go as far as the hunting expeditions usually travel into the forest. If the thief really is stupid enough to go to the dragon’s lair, MC will just circle back and just tell Barry that the dragon probably just killed the thief, or something. No way they’re going to risk getting eaten by an unstoppable dragon.

These thoughts are a small comfort  as MC follows the thief’s trail. Occasionally they have to fight magic-tainted plants or monsters. Their skill shines despite the dark gloom of cursed woods. They even get some nice materials they can sell for some extra cash. Maybe being an adventurer wouldn’t be too bad a gig after all…

Just then the loud noise breaks the eerie calm. Some sort of explosion. Magic? Fireworks? Regardless of what it was, it riled up something. That something is big, nasty, and charging right at them! In fact, it’s a lot of somethings! A pack of creatures got aggravated, and MC is forced to run!

Now, was this a natural occurrence? A bit of misfortune? Did the thief make a false trail to trick MC into going on ahead while they secretly doubled back and used a small explosion to make the monsters go nuts on MC while they used the commotion as a cover to make their escape?

Perhaps. Perhaps. MC certainly isn’t in a situation to figure out which of these possibilities it was at the moment though, as they’re too busy running for their life, inwardly cursing Barry, the queen, the thief, and anyone else that annoyed them lately. If they knew they would die today, they wouldn’t have held back last week when that one jerk stole their cinnamon roll. They would’ve at least had the satisfaction of telling them off for it!

Sarcasm and sass are a good way to cope, but MC knows full well the gravity of their situation. They quickly lose the trail back the way they came, forced to do battle with creatures that are in their path while avoiding being overwhelmed by being so outnumbered. It’s only through a mixture of skill and sheer dumb luck that they manage to survive.

And by dumb luck, I mean that they fell into a catacomb through a ruined ceiling that was keeping it hidden underground.

Well, shit. From bad to worse, right?

Nothing for it, MC is forced to find a way out of the catacombs, then somehow find a way to leave the dark woods without another group of monsters going aggro on them.

Piece of cake. Noooo problem. They just have to avoid the castle at the center of the dark woods that the dragon supposedly uses as its lair, and they’re fine. An old crypt with some undead ready to pop out is better than an unstoppable dragon. Right?

As you may have guessed, MC is, in fact, going in the direction of our lonely dragon prince. Is it just bad luck? Is it some sort of intuition or instinct drawing them to Jack? Are they bound together by fate? Is it some sort of spell Jack has cast that compels humans to seek him out because it’s been forever since a human came by, and he’s desperate for both company and freedom? Maybe some combination of these things or something else entirely. Who’s to say~? It’s up to interpretation/personal headcanon~

In any case, MC is very taken aback when they meet Jack face to face for the first time, as is Jack really. It’s been so long since he’s seen someone. A part of him wonders if MC is actually real. When they get defensive and try to figure out who or what he is, he does his best to placate them, even if they might have their weapon out and ready for battle.

Jack puts his best foot forward, being friendly and welcoming. He invites MC to his home. They look exhausted and like they’ve had a hard time. MC isn’t exactly trusting this at face value, being very guarded about the whole exchange despite how cheerful and friendly this man with wings and horns is being. He’s also getting dangerously close. Should they try to use their weapon to ward him off, like Thea might have done with her sword, Jack is skilled enough in combat by this point to easily redirect her sword with his claws.

Oops, that put Thea off balance. Don’t worry, her new pal Jack is quick to catch her before she takes a tumble.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you getting hurt, would we?” Jack said, his tone playful.

Despite MC’s skills, they are hopelessly outmatched by Jack. He has far more experience with combat, and he has the insane powers that the curse granted him.

Of course, MC is pretty quick to put together that Jack is the invincible dragon that rules the dark woods, which means that they’re utterly screwed. Strangely enough, Jack isn’t really acting like the monster people whisper about. It’s almost enough to make MC wonder if they aren’t mistaken, but the dragon features and his overwhelming strength kind of gives it away. The fact that Jack brings MC back to his castle pretty much seals the deal.

So MC is stuck as a guest with Jack. The dark woods are too dangerous for humans to wander around alone, especially at the heart of the forest. He’s curious about MC and why they would take such a risk, very concerned by their recklessness. Why were they there?

It’s an awkward situation, but MC has no choice but to play along. How much they resist or comply depends on the MC. I figure Jack indulges even a very resistant MC due to how lonely he’s been. He can easily disarm any attempts to attack him or thwart them from getting away, so they pose no threat. He has all the time in the world to convince MC to lower their guard.

And Jack is just so… so nice. It’s hard not to find him charming. He seems so concerned about MC, and they’ve been having such a hard time with, well… everything. The castle, despite being old, has been maintained decently well. The rooms are decorated so nicely, filled with clothes for them to wear, and the food Jack makes is fantastic. Holy crap, his cooking is out of this world!

Really, the longer MC stays there, the more it seems like there’s nothing Jack can’t do, and their stay is kind of like a vacation in ways. Given how much time he’s had to teach himself new things, it’s no wonder he has become something of a jack-of-all-trades.

I make no apologies for that pun.

Here then comes the classic conundrum when it comes to Jack - does MC fall for his charms, or remain suspicious and hold him at arm’s length? They’ve been feeling pretty lonely and beaten down by life for a while now, and Jack seems almost too good to be true. It’s not like he’s keeping them captive, but they’re in the heart of the dark woods. Outside this castle are some of the worst, most dangerous monsters imaginable. Jack can protect MC if they stay there in the castle with him, but he can’t go very far from the castle, so he can’t help them leave the woods. That is why he’s keeping them from leaving the castle. You know, aside from not wanting to lose the only company he’s had in so many years.

Jack is right about the danger, unfortunately. Whether MC tries to slip away from the castle or just scopes out the surroundings via a window, they find that it’s surrounded by monsters far too dangerous for them to handle alone. There’s no way they could make it, and if they tried, they’d only survive thanks to Jack coming to their rescue.

Of course, Jack acknowledges that MC is powerful. He saw them try to attack him if he did, or he just can tell in simply because they made it all this way on their own. It’s just, well, there’s only so much anyone can do on their own. Sometimes we all need a friend to help us out.

If Jack could leave, then he could help MC leave too, but he’s stuck in the castle. He’s been there for such a long, long time.

Whether his tragic plight is enough to make MC sympathize is, of course, up to the individual. I do know my gal Alice is going to want to help him after hearing him out. Being trapped in this awful place by a curse is a fate she wouldn’t wish on anybody.

Not to mention helping Jack would help MC leave the dark woods. There’s no threat he can’t handle after all. They’d be getting their own personal dragon bodyguard.

Perhaps with a pair of fresh eyes and more knowledge of the state of the world, MC will have better luck figuring out how to free Jack from the curse. Maybe they’ll just play along to not upset their super powerful host so they can escape. It would certainly take time for MC to really trust Jack, even if he seems so friendly and kind… and, they have to admit, this place is lonely and very unsettling for anyone to stay in, even if Jack has tried his best to make it look nice. It’s certainly creepy to be alone here in the heart of the dark woods. The castle is better than the woods full of monsters, but still…

Anyway, the interactions between MC and Jack are up to the individual to decide. Romance the dragon, or flee from the dragon in the end. Being stuck together can bring a sort of fondness, and Jack falls in love. It makes him determined to never lose MC, ever, so he falls down the yandere path, which can lead to some pretty obsessive moments depending on the choices made.

As for the alternate love interests, after Ian receives word that MC disappeared in the dark woods, he sends knights on a quest to find and rescue them, despite the queen’s interference. This of course includes Shaun and Nick, who are the first to volunteer for the rescue mission. Despite the queen’s meddling, not wanting to waste manpower on a thorn in her side, Ian finally takes a stand against his mother for the sake of MC and their love, and the expedition is sent.

Unbeknownst to the knights, Ian sneaks along with them in disguise. He can’t just sit back and wait while MC is in danger. He can’t let them down a second time. He’ll prove to them, and himself, that he’s truly worthy of their love.

From there it’s trials and tribulations of the guys trying to rescue MC from the dragon… provided that MC still wants to be rescued by the time the guys reach the castle.

Really, in order for all of the love interests to spend time with MC and interact, perhaps Jack will be brought back with them somehow, like he found a loophole in the curse or a way to bind him to MC. That way, Jack can leave the forest, so long as it’s with MC, with the added bonus that he can’t stay too far away from his sunshine. It’d create something of a dynamic similar to the game, only in this case everyone can see Jack and learn that he’s an incredibly dangerous dragon that has the power to kill all of them if he so chooses. Not that he would ever! He’s MC’s best friend after all. He just wants to protect his sunshine.

Though chances are MC will want to hide the whole “dragon” thing if they decide to leave with Jack. Maybe coach him on how to better pass for a human. Best not to scare people, am I right?

Or this AU could just stick in the castle where MC chooses to either romance the dragon or flee the dragon. I know which one Alice is going to choose, regardless if they stay in the castle or go back to civilization.

On that note, let’s get to the part that I suspect you’ve all been really waiting for.

(S)laying the Dragon

With Jack being a mythical creature, that offers possibilities for a very kinky fun time. There’s his obvious features like his sharp teeth and claws, but there’s also those long pointy ears that are perfect for nibbling, and maybe offering a bit of emotional expression in the way they tilt. Then, of course, there’s the tail and wings, perfect to wrap around his sunshine. He’s got even more limbs to hold them close!

Now… dragon anatomy is pretty much whatever we want it to be. Bad Dragon has the name for a reason after all. Want dragons to have two dicks similar to snakes? Go for it. He could still have that while he’s in his “human” form too. In fact, with a belt that allows him to change his shape, he could alter himself in very fun ways. A funky fantasy dick with ridges and/or bumps? Perhaps some tentacles anybody?

I mean, Jack has been alone for a long, long time. He’s only had himself to entertain and experiment with. He might have some very kinky tricks that no one has ever tried before.

To be fair, the tail is probably prehensile, so it might be able to be used like a tentacle for sexy times. He might not even need a second dick to plug up all of MC’s holes at once.

Dragons tend to have long tongues, so french kissing Jack is going to be intense, especially if it’s forked too. Then of course there’s oral. Naturally, he’ll be careful with those sharp teeth of his. Well, unless MC is into something a little rougher. Jack doesn’t want to hurt his sunshine (humans are so fragile after all), but if they like a little pain, well, their good old pal Jack will oblige them!

In my personal fantasy headcanons, pointy ears and the base of wings and tails are sensitive erogenous zones. Nibble on Jack’s ears, please! Preen his wings and make him feel loved and cared for. Rub at the base of his tail, and he’ll get hard instantly.

The scales might be harder than armor, but they’re nice and smooth, and have a nice feel. Jack has some control on just how hard or soft his body is at a time due to the belt’s power. Unless otherwise requested, Jack is very gentle with his sunshine, worried about going too rough due to how easy it was for him to hurt others.

Of course… Jack is also so desperately lonely and horny. MC’s presence has been his only bright spot in so long, and he loves them so much. When they love him too… well, it was already so hard for him to hold himself back. It wouldn’t be that difficult to rile him up and make him start to lose control, struggling to hold back his power even as he tosses MC around and takes them.

Naturally, many of my personal sexy headcanons for Jack apply in this AU. This includes a breeding/seeding kink. It’s a bit more pronounced here. If MC has his child then they’ll never ever leave him after all, and they’ll be bound together forever and ever and ever. Even if a child is off the table, the act of breeding/seeding alone is enticing, making them beg him to take them and fill them up with his hot cum is something that he fantasizes about often.

Of course, Jack doesn’t simply want sex with MC, he wants to make love. They make him feel truly loved for the first time in forever. Did he ever feel so loved before? He wants to experience their love in every way he can, fill them up with it until he’s a part of them forever.

Jack won’t ever force his sunshine, no matter how desperate he is for their love or to make love. He’ll go crazy with need, but always hold himself back if they need him to. As long as they love him, he can take care of himself sexually like he always has. He’s just been so empty, alone, and unloved for so long. MC fills them up with love in a way that he can’t live without anymore.

Naturally, when the pair do start making love, Jack can’t get enough, and his stamina is insane. MC is without a doubt going to be the one passing out first after they’ve been fucked senseless with Jack thrusting inside them, babbling how much he loves them and how good they make him feel. The more they go on, the more feral for their love Jack becomes. He’s needed his sunshine so, so badly, and now that he has them and their love, he can’t live without them anymore.

Of course, with a dragon AU and a shapeshifting ability, you can get really creative. For one thing there’s his full dragon form, which would be a giant compared to MC. Size difference anyone? Plus the exact details of how Jack looks in his dragon form could offer interesting possibilities of its own.

Then of course there’s even more furry-related kinks like oviposition or stuff like that. It's not for me personally, but I can imagine Jack would be open to experimentation and indulging in MC’s kinks, even the more outrageous ones. After all, it’s all just more ways to show just how much he loves his sunshine~

You best believe Jack has a predplay kink in this universe. He can smell MC and track them down easily. If that doesn’t work, there’s all sorts of magic he’s learned over the years that can do the trick. Of course he doesn’t want to scare MC, but when it’s good fun, it can lead to a delightfully spicy time~

While I’m on the topic of Jack smelling MC, he is addicted to their scent. The smell of their pheromones easily riles him up, practically sending him into rut like an alpha from Omegaverse!

Naturally, since Jack is a dragon, he has a horde. The castle was loaded with treasure, and it is pretty and shiny. It looks nice all piled together, maybe even neatly decorated. No doubt he’ll want to make love to his sunshine atop a pile of shiny gold coins and jewels, though he’ll make sure that he’s on the bottom so they don’t get jabbed by the hard edges… unless they’d like that, of course.

Of course, the true treasure Jack is hoarding in his lair would be MC. Gold and jewels are nice, but they don’t hold a candle to the love of his sunshine~

Wow. I think this is the longest headcanon post I’ve ever made while sticking with neutral MCs for the most part. I think I’m long overdue to shamelessly self-indulge with my OTP. Let’s see how Alice’s choices will affect this AU and how events unfold, shall we?

Lady Alice of House Rose

Naturally, Alice can’t have the surname of King in a setting like this, so I’m going to use her middle name as the house name.

Fun fact, Rose is the middle name for Barbie and Coraline too!

Yes, that means Barbie’s full name is Barbara Anne Rose King.

Yes. Yes, that pun was indeed intentional.

No, I will not apologize. Her name was picked to be a pun in the first place after all. ;3

Anyway, back to Alice. Being the eldest child, she has the responsibility to elevate the status of her household. Not only are they barely nobility, but their finances aren’t in the best shape. She needs money to help her family, and the honor of being a knight in hopes of gaining a better title.

It’s a shame that the queen doesn’t care for Alice and she’s been stuck as a squire way longer than is reasonable.

Alice knew that it would be impossible for her to marry a prince like Ian, no matter how kind he was, or how close they were. She couldn’t avoid falling for him though. It made her more determined to earn a better title, to make something of herself and earn acclaim. Maybe if she became the greatest knight in the kingdom, maybe she can prove herself worthy of royal consort and be with Ian as his wife one day.

Alice busted her ass trying to be a knight despite all the rough training and being forced to work menial, often degrading tasks as a squire. The weapons she specializes in are the bow and magic, combining the two to devastating effect. She’s also very good at keeping quiet and being stealthy.

In this universe, Alice never had sex with Ian. Although this fantasy setting is more open about sex before marriage, the gap between her and Ian was so wide, she didn’t want to risk doing anything that might ruin their chances of being together. That’s why finding out he cheated broke her heart, regardless of them being physically intimate together. Worse, his outburst when he begged her for forgiveness made it sound like they had been sleeping together to those who overheard, and the rumors were very unkind to the two of them, Alice especially.

Ian cheating proved to Alice that she was only fooling herself that they could be together. Their worlds were too far apart. Ian was to be king someday and she… well, maybe she’ll reach the title of Baroness. Though Ian begged for forgiveness, and Alice gave it to him, she couldn’t go back to the way they were. Advice from Shaun and others helped her see that it was best for everyone involved that she simply remain as the loyal (future) knight and Prince Ian as only her liege.

Let’s skip ahead to the mission to catch the thief in the dark woods. Alice’s best means of combat is the stealth kill. She sneaks quietly, sets up magic traps, fires arrows when the enemy is unaware, and in general takes her time to take her enemy at her own advantage. She actually works pretty well as a solo fighter due to being so stealthy. Though she is good at hand to hand combat if need be, she prefers to strike before her enemy realizes she’s there, and she’s amazing at her skills. Why, if she put her mind to it, she could be a skilled assassin. (Or in another world, a sniper.)

The horde of monsters the thief set off to charge after Alice was almost her undoing. By the time she fell into the catacombs, she passed out from exhaustion, having drained her mana dry. She might have been doomed if a monster came upon her then, but fortunately the master of the dark woods found her in time.

Alice was pretty darn shocked to wake up in a surprisingly fluffy bed, with her armor removed. Not all of it fortunately. She had her modesty protected and her softer clothes still on, but the uncomfortable hard outer plates were removed so that she could sleep peacefully. Jack was apologetic about removing any part of her clothes without asking, even blushing about it, but he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable while she recovered.

Needless to say, Alice is wary of Jack at first, but he did save her life. She does piece together that he’s the dragon pretty quickly and is naturally wary, deciding that the best course of action is to rest up, heal, and carefully get information from the legendary master of the dark woods.

The rumors and legends are so varied, it’s hard to know what exactly is the truth. The dragon of the dark woods doesn’t even have a name, and some of the tales are clearly exaggerations. Since Jack is showing himself to be surprisingly friendly, and he saved Alice from certain death, she decided to trust him… at least enough to remain civil and learn more about him, the castle, and the dark woods.

After asking many questions and getting as much information as Jack can give her (though much of it is confusing due to how rusty he is with socializing), Alice agrees to help him find a way to break his curse. She’s taking a risk, but if she leaves the castle on her own, she’ll die. If she stays, she can keep an eye on Jack to see if he’s really as good and gentle as he presents himself to be. If she has to, she’ll find a way to escape without him if she gets the sense that he’s using her to escape the forest in order to conquer the world or something.

Being very good at sneaking, Alice does slip away to search around the castle for answers on her own as much as possible. However, Jack can’t stand the idea of losing track of her, and all it took was one time of losing track of her for him to leave a magic tracker on her discreetly so he can find her wherever she goes - for her own safety of course! He can’t stand to be far from her. He has to give her time to herself, since if he leaves her with no privacy she won’t trust him, but it’s so hard to stay away. He’s so lonely.

At first Jack’s feelings for Alice are platonic, just a lonely man in desperate need of friendship, but over the time they spend together, getting to know one another, he falls in love and falls hard. Alice, naturally, takes much longer to fall after her relationship with Ian fell apart. At first, Jack is someone she can’t quite trust because he’s a stranger, then she is cautious because he’s a powerful dragon with many unflattering legends about the monster that he is, then it’s concern for the power imbalance between them… but eventually she sees that he’s just a lonely, sweet dork who just wants a friend.

Of course, Alice won’t realize he wants much more than friendship until later. Jack doesn’t want to scare her away after all.

I don’t think Shaun, Nick, and Ian are just going to sit back and wait long to try and find her, but I want to give Alice and Jack plenty of alone time, so I’m going to go with the idea that when humans come deep into the heart of the woods, at first Jack is excited. More friends! Then he becomes fearful when he realizes they’re looking for Alice. They want to take his sunshine away. She’ll leave him, forever!

Well, that won’t do. Jack doesn’t want to hurt them, but he can just make it difficult to find the castle. Maybe use the power of the cursed land to rearrange the forest when the search party isn’t looking, mix them up so that they find themselves suddenly outside the woods. Jack might not be able to leave due to the curse, but he’s not known as master of the dark woods for nothing. He can wield the golden cuffs’ power however he likes, just he can never leave.

Jack just needs to divert them long enough that they give up and leave, or he can find a way to escape with his sunshine’s help. Alice knows many interesting spells, being very creative with magic in ways that he never thought of before, and she knows of things that he doesn’t due to coming from outside the woods. With her help, he is able to figure out a way to free himself from his imprisonment… provided that he remains close to his sunshine. It’s more of a change in the curse than an actual cure for it, but it’s a vast improvement! He can leave the dark woods! Finally! At long last! He can converse with more people! He can make friends! He won’t have to be left alone and forgotten in the dark anymore!

Of course, Alice helps Jack prepare to be around people by helping him refine his “human” form. People aren’t going to understand that the deadly dragon of the dark woods is really just a sweet marshmallow, practically a giant cuddly puppy in human-ish form! When Jack can master looking properly human, they can come up with a cover story that he was a wanderer that found her lost in the woods and helped her until she could get back home. It’s not a lie technically. He used to be a wanderer after all, and everything else is true. He’s been nothing but helpful to his sunshine~

So Alice has to hide the secret of her new dragon friend, who has made it his mission to win her heart. Jack is willing to wait for her to be ready to love him the way that he loves her, even if the wait drives him crazy, but he’s very territorial, not liking the way the other guys look at her. However, Alice does notice his more possessive behaviors even as he tries to remain subtle about them, and she makes sure to keep her new “pet” dragon on a tight leash. Jack is fine with that so long as it means he’ll stay close to his sunshine.

I’m going to say that the change to the curse to bind them together does cause an empathy connection because I really love empath magic. Plus, allowing the pair to feel each other’s emotions and even pleasure and pain is very intimate. When Alice realizes they now can sense each other’s pain as a result of what she did, Jack makes it clear that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe so that she won’t have to experience any pain. He’ll promises to protect her for the rest of his life.

Of course, such a declaration leaves Alice feeling rather flustered. ;3

Overall, it is a bit more of a slow burn than Sunshine in Hell, but eventually the two of them fall in love, much to the dismay of the rest of the male leads.

Naturally love will overcome the curse, because I am an absolute sucker for happy endings. Jack and Alice will find a way to break the curse and remain together so they can live happily ever after. And make love like rabbits hopped up on viagra.

No, I won’t apologize for that pun either.

It won’t come too easily, of course. There’s plenty of people who aren’t going to be keen to immediately trust Jack, and not just the male leads. He came from out of nowhere, with no known background. Alice’s family is certainly going to be concerned by the stranger that waltzed into her life after her heart was already broken by Ian, especially since by the time they meet Jack, she’s already shown signs of crushing on him. The family is going to need to make sure that this new guy is worth potential heartbreak.

Then of course there’s the whole political aspect of things. This country used to be the very kingdom that Joseph was chased out of many, many years ago. The lost prince is a story that could be uncovered to potentially explosive results.

Why, if Jack had the mind to, he could take back the throne and rule the kingdom that once chased him away… with his sunshine ruling by his side after all.

Will that happen with Alice? Maybe. Maybe she’ll actually become a queen after all, or maybe she’ll just live a simple life with Jack who doesn’t let on that he’s powerful enough to level the whole kingdom. After all, all he truly wants is to be loved, and Alice is sure to give Jack all the love he could ever ask for.

Perhaps that love will wind up with a lot of adorable half-dragon babies running around. Though they could be fully human if Jack does become a human after the curse breaks. I kind of like the idea that Jack is freed of the curse, but he is still a powerful dragon and can still use the belt to have fun with his shape. Plus baby dragons are the cutest and the idea of Jack and Alice’s kids being little dragons with tiny wings and cute pointy ears heals my soul.

…Holy crap this ramble went on for 26 pages. That’s over 11,000 words according to google doc! This must be my longest ramble yet, and that’s saying something! Well, I suppose that’s what happens when a dragon lover makes a dragon AU, haha. Fantasy has always been my jam, and I love playing with magical elements.

Anyway, I’m going to take that as a cue to wrap things up here for now. Let me know what you think about this AU and if you want to hear more about anything in particular. Also, let me know if this post inspires you to create anything of your own and please share it with me! I love it that we can inspire one another to create in this fandom, just like Mars’ lovely art inspired me. I hope I’ve given you a few new fun ideas to play with. Thanks for reading this far!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[thebadboyfanclub]

Take Care Of Me, My Love (Aemond x Reader)

Hey y’all, how y’all doing? Ok let’s cut to the shit, I felt inspired and wrote this so. Enjoy!

Princess (y/n),

First of her name

The first child of Daemon targaryen

And the only child of Lady Mysaria

Princess of the Dragonstones and the rightful heir of the iron throne after Rhaenyra.

Well sort of, Rhaenyra had embraced her as her own since (y/n) never had a true mother, as soon as she was born Mysaria had fled the palace, leaving her daughter behind with Daemon who was delighted of how easily he had gotten rid of Mysaria, (y/n) never heard of her or from her until later on in her life when someone informed her that Mysaria had died. She then had Laena who was very graceful and kind to (y/n), no one could deny that she loved her, however when the twins were born only her father truly paid attention to her, she now had kids of her own and a very broody husband to manage.

When Rhaenyra wed her father Daemon she finally felt the true love and touch of a mother, (y/n) admired Rhaenyras strength and how she stood tall no matter the circumstance, she was (y/n)s mentor and Jace, Luke and Joffrey were such joy to be around.

When it was announced to her via her step brother Jacaerys that not only were they betrothed, Rhaenyra declared Jacaerys as the rightful heir.

(Y/n) felt like the world had caved in, she was the first child, she has been prepared for her duties since she was just a toddler, now she was told she could only be “the wife” and kings consort.

To say she was livid was an understatement, how dare they arrange a marriage without asking for her agreement, Jace might be content with being a mere player in Rhaenyras game but (y/n) felt her blood boil at the thought of anyone controlling her life.

So she did was she does best, in the midst of night she went and retrieved her dragon.

Ralla hatched when (y/n) was still a baby, a day after her first name day (y/n) hugged the egg and the first cracks started to appear. Since then Ralla and (y/n) were attached, especially on the nights when (y/n) felt alone.

Ralla was a fairly big dragon, she had grown to be bigger than Syrax and she got the nickname of “Ralla the Lady of Ice” she was white as snow and her fire breath was blue, stronger and brighter than most of the other dragons.

Up in the sky she could finally breathe, everything seemed so small from that point of view and sometimes (y/n) wished she could live on Rallas dragon back. She was flying in no particular direction until she heard wings of another dragon flapping pretty close

“īlon issi daor mērī Ralla”*1

She said as she lightly rubbed her dragon on the side of her neck. She leaned in and guided her dragon in a swift motion so she can circle and look for the mysterious visitor, although if she was being honest with herself she already knew who it could be.

“Ao kostagon dakogon yn ao kostagon’t ruaragon”*2

At that moment a dragon flew right next to her, spreading its humongous wings and almost hitting Ralla.

(Y/n) laughed at the failed attempt to scare her but was relieved to be in his presence, they exchanged a look and then she took it upon herself to guide them in the ground, somewhere that they wouldn’t be bothered or discovered by others.

As she gracefully landed Ralla close to the shore, her company followed. (Y/n) brushed her hair back in its place and fixed her dress once she came down of Rallas back.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I heard the news, I wanted to wish the happy couple a long and prosperous marriage, may you be blessed with many offsprings”

(Y/n) groaned at the sound of that word. Marriage and kids was in her plans but not now and definitely not with Jace.

She loved him but as a brother, he was a good and honourable man, any other girl would kill to have someone as handsome and as kind as Jace. To (y/n) it felt wrong, especially since her heart belongs to someone else, that “someone else” was now standing there and wished her well in a future that he is not a part of. It almost made her throw up at the mere thought of it.

(Y/n) turned her back along with closing her eyes in order to soothe herself and collect her thoughts, her hands felt abnormally cold as she clapped them together and brought them closer to her chest in a way of seeking comfort.

“Happy couple… far from it. As he gets to rise to the throne I am told that I should be more than satisfied with being the kings consort. I am the first child of Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys. I should be the one to inherit after rhaenyra”

“Rhaenyra won’t even be the one to inherit the throne my dear, my father has barely opened his eyes and my mother won’t rest until she sees Aegon on that throne”

She scoffed loudly. As she turned to face Aemond who had walked and stood right behind her as a result he now could be face to face with (y/n). As the wind blew a few strands of her grazed her angry face, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him through almost shut eyes.

“Aegon?! That idiotic fool who drinks his days away in addition of harassing half of the servants in the palace? He could never be king, he would destroy everything my uncle has worked for”

She claimed in a higher tone than usual. Aemond could only smile at her as his hands reached for her upper arms, letting his fingertips graze the fabric of her dress up and down.

(Y/n) let her shoulders sink slightly also taking yet another deep breath at a desperate attempt to put her anger aside. The feeling of disrespect and unfairness filled her soul with such hatred that made her brain go on fire.

“How could they do this to me? Betroth me without my permission and deny me what’s rightfully mine? Rhaenyra is King Viserys daughter, he is my uncle”

“Life is unfair I’m afraid, don’t fret over the iron throne yet. What I cannot get pass is your new… soon to be husband”

That’s when (y/n) could finally snap out of her rage. Hearing the bitterness spew out of Aemond as he let the word barely get out of his mouth forced her to realise how difficult this is for him. She studied his facial expected soon, his lips closed shut as his jaw clenched tighter, even his shoulders were tense. Her hand reached up to graze his cheek for a few seconds with the back of her fingers.

“I promise you my love that I will only let that happen when I’m cold in my grave”

She whispered to him, a promise she was determined to keep. She took one more step and let the space between them become a thing of the past, (y/n) rested her head on his shoulder Aemond brushed his hand through her hair and took in her addicting scent in.

Everything about her was intoxicating to him, it was the only way he understood why his brother was drinking so much, if he could he would also drown in her presence, let her consume his life and die while under her influence, if he had any word in it he wished his grave to be her arms.

“You are the one that owns my heart, my fire”

She reassured him once again. Aemond and (y/n) had developed a relationship that grew stronger as time went on, they were careful in sneaking away from everyone else since they were very aware of how their families would react to their relationship, his mother although kind she was always clear of how displeased she was with (y/n)s wild temper, on the other side her father and Rhaenyra despised Aemond due to the altercation that had occurred years ago that costed him his eye. They were very lucky about their cover up since (y/n) had defended poor little lucerys and for years she had nothing but negative things to say for Aemond.

What they had forgotten to consider was that they were both at a time in their life that marriage was becoming something their families had to take into serious consideration.

“I understand why they betroth you to him, yet I cannot help than feel anger. I once again come second”

Second… second. (Y/n) snapped her head up at that word, Aemond was expecting her to be bothered by his words yet to his surprise she was smiling up at him. He looked at her with a questionable look since he could not understand why she was pleased with the situation.

“What if we tell them that Jacaerys came second?”

“I’m afraid that I do not understand you dearest”

“I give you my maidens head, by morning we announce it to my father… together”

Aemonds lips curved into a smile, joining (y/n) on her mast plan idea. He had never dreamed of that possibility, well he had dreamed of it and craved it many times but would never dare to suggest it, he wanted (y/n) to come to him. Aemonds hands cupped her cheeks before he crashed his lips with hers moreover deepening to a passionate kiss.

“You are an amazing woman”

He complimented her in between kisses as he was finally allowed to do what he had only dreamed of. She giggled at his eagerness and responded with the same amount of lust radiating of her body as her arms were wrapping around his neck pulling him closer that they could physically be.

He laid her down carefully, making sure she was comfortable before his hungry self ripped of the clothes of her body, their eyes full of passion as their bodies followed the urge they had ignored for so long.

“Take care of me my love”

She whispered in his ear as he supported himself on top of her, her hair becoming one of other the dirt and her naked skin feeling the breeze and raised goosebumps.

Getting lost in each others arms and their bodies working together, it was a pretty chilly night however they managed to sweat as they to one another tightly. Their sounds could be mistaken for animals and the aggression mixed with the tenderness was something that would make the most filthy person blush. (Y/n) could not let him go even after their passion shimmered down, they stayed intertwined until the sun rose the first rays caressed their bodies, Aemond admired how her skin blisters under the sunlight during the early hours

“My treasure”

He called for her before hugging her once again, (y/n) was overwhelmed by pleasure and joy that made her almost forget that the guards are going to start looking for her soon and that’s if they hadn’t done it yet.

“We need to move Aemond, it’s time for us to face the world”

“Together, from this point on we do all of it together. I swear to you that you will never be alone”

*1 “we are not alone Ralla”

*2 “you can run but you can’t hide”

[alicentsgf]

could you please elaborate more on the daemon loving/being interested in rhaenyra because she was the closest thing to viserys?

Yes I can 😌

Daemon suffers from the same debilitating disease as every other man in HOTD - an inability to see (high-born) women as anything other than extensions of their fathers or husbands. The way Viserys relates to Rhaenyra is all about his own selfish feelings, and he so easily accepts Alicent into an advisory role when shes only 15 probably because at least in part he's seeing Otto. Otto basically sees Alicent as an extra limb of his own body, and he likely sees Rhaenyra as an extension of Viserys - he probably ensured Alicent was made her companion for that reason. Daemon also sees Alicent as an extension of Otto and thats why he uses her to taunt Otto at the tourney - asking Alicent for her favour was Daemon all but mockingly asking for Otto's. And in every move Daemon made with Rhaenyra, not just the neck-grabbing scene, you could feel Viserys presence.

This man is obsessed with his brother. He spends pretty much Viserys' whole life desperately trying to get his brother's attention/force himself into a position of trust. He wants Viserys love and admiration so badly he will tear other people apart for it. His violent nature itself is his love for Viserys made manifest, as well as an outlet through which to vent his frustrations over Viserys dismissal. As a second son he stood to inherit nothing, but if he could be the finest warrior... perhaps he could convince Viserys he was worthy of a place at his side. He was the one rallying an army to fight for Viserys throne before the great council /for his brother/. If he kills and maims all the criminals in Kings Landing then (not only does it feel good) but to his mind he's doing a service /for his brother/. Then, when spurned, he fights a war to prove to himself he doesn't need Viserys... only to run right back when he wins in the hope of a pat on the head.

Where he respects Viserys, his relationship with Rhaenyra stinks of grooming and flippant disregard; She's a game. She's a distraction. She's a means to an end. He plays with her because, in her youth especially, she makes him feel powerful and desired, all the while reminding him of Viserys. But she's still not Viserys, and he happily leaves her vulnerable and alone in a dangerous situation on a whim. He gambles with her future for his own gain, and lets Viserys believe he took her virginity just for the chance of being Rhaenyra's consort… because if he's Rhaenyra's consort then Viserys can't send him away from court anymore, not without sending Rhaenyra away too. His place would be at Viserys' heir's side. Who cares if he ruins Rhaenyra's life, if it gets him one step closer to Viserys. And Viserys understood it wasn't (just) lust for Rhaenyra that drove Daemon to do such a thing, but it wasn't the throne he was after either - he only ever wanted to be Viserys' Hand. It's what he's always wanted. He tells Viserys this. He wants to be the person his brother relies on. But Viserys keeps removing him from the council and sending him away… so how is he supposed to prove himself worthy? 

I wonder… why did Daemon run from the brothel? I certainly believe he meant to go through with it, he'd let it go far enough, and there's no doubt he wanted Rhaenyra. It looked like guilt to me. Maybe a hint of confusion? (Maybe he'd just never experienced guilt before lmao). (Edit: Going off what someone just told me in the notes I had an ephiphany: In that moment hes only too aware of Rhaenyra's desire and the fact that she actually wants him. Here is this representation of Viserys in front of him Wanting him which he's never truly experienced and the lack of control over the situation and the guilt and desire and conflict is all just fucking with his mind to the point where he has to run away and drink himself into a stupor.)

Daemon is as Targaryen as they come. His parents and grandparents were siblings. He's grown up in this environment where friendships between siblings of the opposite gender are immediately sexualised. If Daemon had been born a girl, he would have no doubt been married off to Viserys. What does that knowledge do to a person? Especially when Daemon is (according to the cut scenes anway) canonically bisexual.

Whether he "desires" Viserys, or ever did, in any normal sense is kind of irrelevant, because this situation is not normal; we're literally talking about a man pursuing his niece because of a psychosexual fixation on his own brother. It's about the Targaryen sexualisation of sibling bonds. It's about the deeply rooted misogyny present in Daemon Targaryen. He can't fully invest in any partner he has; he's too misogynistic to see any woman as an entire person, and too Targaryen to emotionally invest in someone outside his own family. Not to mention the fact he finds power and having control too sexually alluring to consider what his own brother represents as King anything less than erotically enthralling.

Daemon has this sense that he was always meant for Viserys and he just can't shake it. On some level he knows that in another life he would have been Viserys' Queen, but in this life he can't have that. He tries to get as close to that reality as he can, but Viserys denies him. So he focuses on Rhaenyra; if his brother won't take him on as Hand or keep him as his heir then he can be Rhaenyra's consort, he can be Rhaenyra's Hand, he can give Rhaenyra heirs. He spends so much of his existence using Rhaenyra to desperately grasp at all the pieces of that other life with Viserys he might still be able to reach. Is it any wonder that when Rhaenyra reveals Viserys thought even less of Daemon than he believed, he lashes out at her - the person he's always seen as a substitute for the man he really wanted.

[wyrmsweven]

[A Feast for Crows spoilers!!]

everyone being absolutely useless while Margaery is so politically competent is fucking hilarious

In affc she is just sitting in court making friends being entirely unproblematic while:

- cersei is convincing herself that the Tyrells (her greatest allies) are the problem

-stannis is sitting freezing his ass off at the Wall burning people alive

-The ironborn have turned to death magic/Euron’s crazy ass

-Daenerys is sitting all the way in essos

-the Starks are all in hiding

-Riverrun being sieged (not doing good on either side)

-like three of the Kingsguard are dead or dying

-the reigning Lord Paramount in Dorne has accidentally convinced his heir that’s she’s maybe not his heir, provoking her to move against him; leading to a shitton of shit going down

-the Faith arming

-the Night King is happily building his forces because winter is coming and all that

and Margaery has managed to just. Be a nice person. She gives Tommen kittens. Sit happily in Kings Landing; deftly avoiding all strife because she’s so good at the game that no one knows she’s actually playing it.

She is the former wife of a dead pretender, a Reachman (which is being raided rn), the wife of a boy king (blatant power grab), and her house stands pretty much alone against all the enemies of the iron throne. The Queen Regent herself (thru machinations) accused her of adultery yet she spins that right around on Cersei’s head.

But everyone loves her. Amazing. Wish she got some POV chapters. Truly the Queen of Thorn’s heir. Her grandma must be so proud.

also Willas is also amazing at being unproblematic. He has never done anything wrong his entire life. Running the entire Reach with almost no issues. What a guy

[hiatuswhore]

♕ Cₕₒₛₑₙ By ₜₕₑ Gₒdₛ

A/N: So you can picture the characters however you like. Here is what I was picture in my head for some of the characters. Ontari and Daltis. Please give me feedback! Should I continue?

SUMMARY: You fight like Azgeda. To some a compliment to others an insult. A land of warriors. Men, women, and children alike. The best ally in the game of thrones, the winning piece.

WORD COUNT: 1.9K

WARNING: None

previous — Masterlist — next

The Raven arrives, sending the Matriarch of House Azgeda into complete disarray. Ontari Azgeda’s brisk pace matches her fiddling fingers. She rounds the corner, a deep sigh leaving her. The long, stretched corridor exhibits a colorful display of sunset yellows, forest greens, and pale pinks. There he is, her handmaiden near skipping to keep up.

“Faster Ashter or (Y/n) will best you again,” Cassian’s voice booms through the courtyard as he stares down at his children. (Y/n) holds her staff behind her back, grinning ear to ear. She’s fast, much faster than her brother, and her awareness of this does little to curb her amusement. He’s impatient and eager to prove he can beat his sister, disheartening desperation.

“I’ll bet tonight’s dessert that brother will yield,” Taliya smirks, her eyes on Daltis, who towers her. She’s a clever one, a pretty flower with lurking thorns. Daltis crosses his arms without a word, often the shadow of his sisters' courage and brothers' determination. The reserved Azgeda, he watches closely as (Y/n) rushes at Ashter. His parries are a fumbling battle of staying on his feet. He manages to steady himself, putting most of his weight on his right knee while holding his sword against (Y/n)’s. Using his strength to his advantage despite giving her the high ground.

“Only a fool would give away their dessert by betting against (Y/n). Far too stubborn to lose,” Taliya chuckles while Daltis’s gaze moves up toward his parents. He narrows his eyes at his mother, watching as her face hardens before passing something over. His father stares down at his hands before his face falls, and the two walk off together without a word.

“I yield!” Ashter growls. Lying on his back, he ignores (Y/n)’s hand as she offers it. Daltis frowns. In mere seconds he’s missed the majority of his entertainment for the day.

“Do not be a sore loser, brother. You wield knowledge as I wield a sword!” (Y/n)’s half smile covers the laugh that tickles her chest. Ashter rolls his eyes as he helps himself from the ground. “It’s not a jest! I laugh only at your whining.”

“Whose turn is it to cover for the upcoming name day?” Ashter asks. (Y/n) shrugs as Taliya crosses her arms, murmuring she covered last time.

“It’s our name day, so it certainly cannot be us,” (Y/n) says, tilting her head. She looks at her younger brother with a raised brow.

“I am pretty sure it is my turn, but should we truly be sneaking off to a party? I enjoy this for each of our name days, but we all know mother is worried,” Daltis says. Taliya shrugs, her matter-of-fact tone earning chuckles, “It’s mother. She’s always worried.”

“Lords all across the Westeros have been sending for (Y/n)’s hand. Every move she makes will be watched,” Daltis says, earning a frown from Ashter. Taliya grabs (Y/n)’s hand leaning onto her sister's arm.

“Since when did that ever stop us before?” The glint in (Y/n)’s eyes near contagious as each Azgeda child's contemplation falls. Their grins communicate far more than any word ever can before dispersing to their chambers.

(Y/n) rests her eyes, the hot water of her bath painting her skin red. Wafts of mint leaf keep her sinuses clear and skin tingling. Her handmaiden continues to remind her how soon supper draws near. Still, she rests her eyes without a care in the world. Allowing the water to swallow the realities of the coming days whole.

(Y/n) settles on her loose beige gown, the neckline revealing her collarbones. The sheer waterfall sleeves leave enough room to combat the humidity. Her hair coiling and curling in a messy ensemble that holds together beautifully with a gold clip.

“Nice of you to join us,” Cassian smirks as (Y/n) takes the empty seat to his right. The candles decorate the room creating a soft glow on her skin. A light heat adds to a particular coziness one only finds at home. Ontari bites the inside of her cheek as she eyes her children.

“My apologies for the tardiness. I was exhausted from the beating I gave Ashter,” Taliya’s hand flies to her chest, her laugh a crossroad between amusement and juice down the wrong pipe. Daltis grins, shaking his head silently. Ashter glares daggers at his sister while she nibbles on a piece of bread. Ontari sighed as her husband hid his grin behind his glass.

“You exaggerate!” Ashter exclaims, slamming his fist against the table. Cassian swallows his amusement as he meets his wife’s pointed stare.

“Humility is a virtue and most honorable. Apologize to your brother,” His voice gruff. (Y/n) rolls her eyes reaching for her cup. The room stills as both Ontari and Cassian eye their daughter. She huffs before turning to her brother.

“I am sorry,” (Y/n) says, smiling sweetly as Taliya snickers under her breath. A pregnant pause holding the room before her muttering fills the silence, “We shared a womb but not skill in combat.”

“You are incorrigible!” Ashter whines, throwing a strawberry, then another in her direction.

“Stop throwing fruit at me!” She exclaims. Both ignore their father in a battle of dramatics at the dinner table.

“Enough! Both of you. Your father and I have some things to discuss with you all,” The table halts at the sound of Ontari’s voice. Her stern tongue and perfect posture command the room.

“Is everything okay?” Daltis breaks the silence, his gaze bouncing between his parents.

“Today we received ravens. Both Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra’s families have announced their attendance at Ashter and (Y/n)’s name day celebration,” Ontari says, looking at her husband. (Y/n)’s the first to turn to their father. He takes a painstakingly slow sip of his wine as though his family does not wait for him to shed light on the situation.

“I know it has been many years since you lot last saw the Princes, but it will fair much differently now. (Y/n), Ashter, you will both be six and ten. We will need to be taking marriage proposals more seriously. Taliya, you will be three and ten in the next couple of moons. Daltis, you are four and ten. None of you are small children any longer. Which is why we decided it is time you all be privy to the politics that unnerve the kingdom,” Cassian’s brash tone, unlike anything he has ever used in the presence of his children. He speaks at a drawn-out pace, making certain to make eye contact with each of you. His presence commanding. Often pausing between sentences as if he chooses his words carefully. He looks to his wife, the two of them speaking without words under the lost gazes of their children.

“We have soldiers, gold, and grain. Our family, our house, is a resourceful ally. An ally that will be sought. Queen Alicent has been very adamant about (Y/n)’s hand to her second son. As Princess Rhaenyra has suggested (Y/n) to her oldest and Taliya’s hand to her second son. We suspect the Royal family seeks us for our resources. We are the House of Azgeda, chosen by the gods. We will not be political pawns. Keep your heads up and your eyes sharp,” Ontari finishes keeping a close eye on her daughters. A stillness holds the room, dinner resembling battle plans rather than a family gathering. “Many will tease the idea of friendship in your face. In a time of pending war, always remember there are no friends to be had. We are House Azgeda.”

(Y/n) mirrors her mother, perfect posture with a blank stare, hiding whatever lies beneath the surface. Taliya follows her sister, expertly covering any semblance of a reaction. Amusement dances across her lips, her hands fidgeting ceaselessly beneath the table. Both girls appear quite pristine, a perfect reflection of noble ladies.

“Your mother and I need each of you on your best behavior. We play the game of thrones in the coming weeks. Play the game, or it shall play you,” Cassian rises to his feet, his voice booming through the hall and cup high in the air. He keeps his eyes on his wife, a gentle smile painting his lips.

“Chosen by the gods,” She says, her children following in unison with their cups up high. It takes several minutes before the looming reality of what comes fades into the distance.

“—if anyone else says boorish oaf, they’re getting punched,” Ashter exclaims. Daltis meets (Y/n)’s gaze, then Taliya’s, with a growing smile.

“Boorish oaf.”

“Boorish oaf.”

“Boorish oaf,” The hall fills with laughter as Ashter grumbles to himself. An easy target with his little patience. Ontari defends her firstborn from the taunting of her younger children. Doing her best to shake the uneasiness that creeps up her spine. She smiles softly, watching as (Y/n) details her horseback ride with her sworn protector. Her ethereal nature, which she often hides from everyone besides family. A ferocity like Ontari’s mother with Ontari’s confidence, a rather dangerous mix.

“Very ladylike sister,” Daltis’ lopsided grin earns an eye roll from (Y/n). Ontari turns to her middle child with a warm smile. The observant boy often overlooked, taking his father's calm nature.

“Not to broach this topic again but will they bring their dragons?” Taliya lights up at the prospect of seeing the large beasts. While Cassian voices his distaste for the creatures scaring the common folk, Ontari bites back her grin. Her adventurous baby girl, eager and fearless. A perfect combination of herself and Cassian.

“I imagine if they’re hoping for your hands in marriage, they will utilize all their resources to convince father,” Ashter says, looking at his father. Ontari sighs at her firstborn son, a weak smile taking her lips. His unrelenting pursuits of proving himself in combat shadowing his best asset, his mind.

“Not quite, son. Our house is one of warriors. The Targaryens sued for peace when Aegon the Conquered failed to take our home and lands. Not a single person in our family has not been trained in swordsmanship, girls and boys alike. Your sister shall marry a suitor of her choosing when she deems it ready,” Cassian ruffles his son's hair as he speaks. A lightheartedness consumes the room.

“What if I never wish to marry?” (Y/n) eyes father with a wary glint, watching as he tilts his head as though he contemplates it over.

“There are alternatives that I am certain you will loathe. Picture it, Tari. Our daughter as a septa!” Beaming with sardonic joy, Cassian's smile widens at the sight of his daughter's horror. Ashter and Daltis covered their laughs under their mother's warning gaze.

“Very funny, father. Might I suggest the title of jester would be better suited than lord,” (Y/n) says, Taliya’s hand flying to her lip with a sharp exhale. A hearty laugh leaves Cassian as he flicks a strawberry in her direction. (Y/n) turns to Ashter, “I guess we no longer have to dispute you as his child.”

“Very mature, sister.” (Y/n) blows her twin a kiss, earning a shake of his head. Supper continues for not much longer before they all disperse to bed.

Barring her chamber door (Y/n), light her fireplace and several candles. Her mind wide awake as she changes into her nightgown. At her desk, she grabs her large brown book in it detailing the histories of the great Azgedan commanders. A persistent fantasy from the age of six to now. Lady Commander (Y/n) Azgeda, of the great Azegedan army.

[thewench-and-thekingslayer]

🌠Jaime/Brienne mentions in House of the Dragon 🐉 Critic Reviews💻

"Season 3 is also the season of the Red Wedding. Another massive pop culture moment that cemented Game of Thrones as the show that was not afraid to kill off a whole chunk of main characters who everyone pretty much considered the “good guys”— as if there was any need to confirm it after Ned’s death. Still, it was absolutely shocking. Plus, it’s the start of the great Jaime and Brienne romance—the only ship that has made me go all fangirl in the entirety of the show. It truly was the best of times." The Mary Sue

"Game of Thrones, for all its flaws, was a Sunday-night treasure for a reason: its wild inventiveness and beauty, its overstuffed intrigue and action, its humor, its characters. It was also one of the last sparks of American monoculture, a phenomenon that managed to bring millions together, all at once, to eagerly discuss a scene or detail: Jaime waving goodbye to Brienne of Tarth, the emergence of a missing direwolf, the thrilling flight of a jerk through the Moon Door." The New Yorker

"Weapons in George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones are occasionally given names. The significance of that is a glimpse into the history of said weapons. For example, Brienne of Tarth names her Valyrian steel sword, given to her by Jaime Lannister, “Oathkeeper” after swearing an oath to find and protect Sansa Stark. Another sword with an interesting history is Dark Sister." Twinfinite

"Daemon is King Viserys’ brother. As for his personality… Well, imagine Jaime Lannister before he met Brienne and lost his hand. Then put a drop of Tyrion Lannister’s sexual appetite in there, heap a spoonful of King Joffrey’s ruthlessness on top, and you’re right on track." Metro

"Matt Smith may not resemble Prince Charming as closely as Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, but that’s OK, because Daemon’s charm can’t compare to Jaime’s, either: He’s not quite as likable as the Lannister twin was, which is saying something considering Jaime had sex with his sister and tried to kill a kid in the first episode of Thrones. Jaime was a kingslayer, but—unbeknownst to everyone but Brienne—for virtuous reasons." The Ringer

"The massive sprawl of Game of Thrones could be both blessing and curse. The HBO fantasy epic had a seemingly bottomless and varied well of colorful characters and places from which to draw stories, and to keep the audience from growing tired of any one corner of its fictional world. But in striving for such breadth, GoT at times struggled with depth. Installments of the series could feel less like TV episodes than hasty guided tours of the Seven Kingdoms: If you look over on your right, you’ll see Jaime Lannister leaping into a pit to rescue Brienne of Tarth from a large bear! And coming up in a moment on our left is Theon Greyjoy being castrated by the mysterious sadist who’s been torturing him all season… On the rare occasions when an hour stayed entirely with one group, like Jaime’s brother Tyrion mustering the defenses of King’s Landing for the Battle of the Blackwater, the narrative focus was so potent, it was hard not to wish for more of that — or to wonder what the show could be if it didn’t have to service dozens of characters and subplots." Rolling Stone

[separatist-apologist]

Last Young Renegade- Bonus Pollen

Summary: A war on the continent is looming. A Death God approaches, his curse slowly unravelling. A firebird screams through the night.

And Elain Archeron can see it all.

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

Chapter Summary: Deleted scene from the original plot in which someone spikes the wine at a party with sex pollen. Mostly NSFW, may spoil some of the later plot. Erina + Elucien

I will keep this linked in one-shots

“There you are,” Eris crooned, looping his arm through Elains as she all but jogged through the hall. “Are you headed towards the festivities?”

She tried to yank away but Eris held firm. “Not with you.”

“Nonsense. We are family, after all.”

There was no use arguing, not when Eris’s hand was holding her in place or when, technically, he was her brother in some form or fashion. Besides, Eris’s sharp eyes kept all the other males from looking at her too closely and after weeks of being nonstop ogled, Elain could admit it was nice to use Eris as a shield. 

“Do you plan to participate today?” Eris asked conversationally. “I’ve heard it’s quite the spectacle.”

“Participate?”

“How poorly they inform you,” he chuckled, as if her ignorance was funny to him. “All the males compete to be crowned champion as part of their little games.”

“Games for what?” 

“Independence,” Eris said dismissively. “This land was once controlled by a different sort of Faerie. Crueler, more powerful…Gunnar’s ancestors threw off the yolk of oppression and they remember every year with their little revels. This morning they’ll fight and this evening they’ll dance and at some point the whole thing devolves into fucking…or so I’m told.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet your were,” she grumbled as Eris grinned widely.

“I’m sure I won’t be the only one. You know, I thought the frenzy would last longer than a few days—”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Eris,” Elain interrupted sweetly. “You think about things you have no business wondering about. Imagine what you could accomplish if you spent less time thinking about what Lucien and I do in the privacy of our own bedroom.”

Eris chuckled. “I like you.”

The two entered the great hall, reassembled to look like a huge obstacle course—one designed, primarily, for battle. Males, the majority shirtless and coated in whorls of blue paint, stretched and sparred with each other, holding massive silver swords half as tall as her. Eris hesitated, eyes sweeping the room.

“What do you make of this place?” he asked after a moment. Elain was only half paying attention, her eyes on the lovely Hilda, already sitting on her iridescent throne practically dripping in glittering diamonds. 

“She looks so miserable,” Elain murmured, noting the vacancy in her blue and green eyes.

Eris released Elain’s arm to ghost his hand over the middle of her back. “Her father sold her for pennies.”

Elain looked up at him, surprised Eris would offer her any information about this place. His own expression was muted—unreadable. 

“That would make me miserable, too,” Elain murmured, wondering if Eris wasn’t speaking from some experience. She’d heard the story of Morrigan, of the evil, ugly Eris Vanserra who left her to die with a nailed note in her body. Elain thought, her hand reaching for the crook of his elbow all the same, that Eris wasn’t talking about himself as he watched.

“This place reeks of rot,” he finally said. 

“How can you tell?”

“I’m the Lord of rot and ruin,” Eris murmured, eyes cutting towards her. “What do you think is lurking beneath the jeweled leaves of Autumn’s famed forests?”

“What are you truly doing here, Eris?”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “I’ve never fucked a female from the continent–”

“You’re so gross,” she complained, trying to pull away. Eris caught her, keeping her at his side as they watched, half hidden at the far end of the room.

“Oh, come on. Lighten up. Surely you didn’t think you’d bat your pretty little eyes and I’d spill my guts?”

Elain poked him hard in the ribs. “You’ll tell me everything before you go home and I won’t even have to ask.”

“Oh, I’m certain of it,” Eris agreed. “But not today. Today I just want to observe.”

“And tomorrow?”

Eris grinned. “I hope to be too sore to even get out of bed.”

She poked him again. 

“Speaking of spending my day in bed…what do you know about Helion’s scholar?” Eris asked, catching sight of a golden dipped Arina swanning across the room. Every head turned as she walked, not that Arina noticed. Or cared. Eris was no better, watching with that same hungry stare.

“She doesn’t like you.”

“I’m serious. Helion doesn’t get involved…he likes to let Rhysand do his dirty work. Thesan, too. The solar courts are more united, fight less often. Tell me what you know.”

“Why would I help you?”

“I’ll owe you a favor?”

“I don’t need a favor,” Elain retorted. “And I don’t want Lucien’s father—”

“My father, too,” Eris reminded her without any of his usual amusement. “I wonder if any of us know what game we’re truly playing.”

“What does that mean?” she asked. Eris only shook his head.

“You’ll come to trust me, Elain. And when you do, I’ll still owe you that favor.”

Eris shooed Elain towards the ladies, sauntering off to torment some different lord, leaving Elain to join Arina on the outskirts of the revel.

“What did he want?” Arina asked, watching a very shirtless Gunnar stride into the room. The whole chamber grew quiet at the sight of his honed, muscular body covered in that same whorling blue. Only Hilda remained unmoved, as if she’d seen it all before and it hardly impressed her. Both Elain and Arina watched, a soft haze filtering over the ugliness of the upcoming competition. 

This place reeks of rot. 

Elain looked across the room to Eris, arms crossed over his black coat jacket. He was staring, too, his eyes hardly gloating. She knew what he was trying to say.

You sense it too.

Eris thought it rot but Elain considered it the pretty film of magic. Gunnar lifted a sword as he strode into that ring. The iridescent light that coated his skin, the air, her very eyes, shielding them all from the vicious display. Lucien often complained that everyone let Gunnar win when they played cards, that he was a poor loser. A spoiled king, was the all but stated words. 

Not here, though. If there is magic to be had, it’s in the way Gunnar wields his blade, moving like silk in the air. Every inch of him seems to be born to do nothing else—he is forged of the very blood he draws, made of the dripping iron and howling cold. 

Male after male came forward to challenge him, sword gripped in hand. Gunnar needed no crown to prove his mettle, required no proof he was lord of the land to take down his foes. Elain watched, after each defeat, how he looked to Hilda with the same hopeful eyes she’d seen too often on Lucien. 

Do you see what I would do for you?

Hilda offered no praise—not in her body, or gaze, or lips. She might have been carved from the same stone that once hewed the mountains for all she seemed to care. Elain almost felt bad for Gunnar as the day wore on. He pushed through punishing task after task, always turning to his wife and always rebuffed. Perhaps he had humiliated her too many times for her approval now. Maybe once she’d been like the other gathered females, watching with heated interest, her body pulled in fascination. Even Elain couldn’t help the admiration she felt. He was beautiful. You’d have to be blind not to notice. Arina, too, had shifted, her gaze softened. What had once seemed predatory and menacing seemed approachable.

Safe.

Elain glanced over the room throughout the day, always finding Eris’s eyes. Always with that leveled stare, his lips flat with accusation. You’re falling for a trick, his body seemed to warn. Something in her mind, too. Something that continuously pulled her away from fully walking into the glimmer, the same feeling when her dreams were just a little too lifelike.

Lucien.

Lucien, off on his own, chatting casually with courtiers and lords like he had no care in the world. Lucien, in a coat so purple it was nearly black, the color offsetting the copper hues in his hair vibrantly. Every time Elain looked at him she saw something new, some little trick of the light bouncing off his cheekbones or his muscles shifting beneath the black of his pants that reminded her he was real. The room would clear, the walls spread back to their original place and sometimes Lucien would see her, offering a whisper of a smile. 

Arina tugged at Elain when it was time to change. “They say this dance devolves into an orgy,” Arian told her as they walked from the hall, both of them shaking off a day of milling about watching men fight and climb and swim. “After midnight, when the children are asleep.

“I’ll be asleep too,” Elain replied, reaching for the staircase. Arina grinned.

“Well, I’ll be up.” And Elain wondered if she hadn’t decided on the king after all. 

~*~

It took Lucien a moment, blinking as he was, to realize the music hadn’t abruptly cut. There were still revelers, dancing and twirling and smiling. People still milled about tables piled high with food and wine, still sat on settees and reclined against iridescent walls. They were still talking, voices a low hum beneath the strings of the music thudding in his veins, the chandelier still pouring soft fae light into the massive, arched space.

Only—maybe it had all vanished and he was standing among the heavens because Elain had stepped in draped in plunging, clinging gold and robbed him of air. Tumbling curls fell over bare shoulders, dark eyes framed by even darker, longer lashes and Lucien was certain she was not real. He’d merely imagined her and any moment she would shimmer into nothing. 

He needed her to dance with Gunnar. He’d had it planned all day, had kept his distance specifically so the king might sidle up, might think her more willing than she was. Now, standing across the room, Lucien only felt hotly burning jealousy. Gunnar wasn’t anywhere here, was talking to his absurdly beautiful wife who was, somehow, not even the most beautiful female in the room. Elain outshone everyone and if Hilda wanted to compete, she had to settle for bronze. Arina, shimmying in beside Elain in that vibrant Day Court white, made one of the violinist's bow slip loudly. How was it, he wondered, to be so outshone by these foreign females in a place you out to have held dominion? Lucien turned, gulping down his cup of wine before setting to the table so he could pour twin glasses for Elain and Arina. It gave him a reason to go talk to them, to sweep Elain up at least once before he unleashed her on Gunnar.

She was a prize and every male in the room knew it. Stunning, sweet, and mated. Elain radiated pure, hazy sunlight—softer than the warmth pooling at Arina’s feet and draped about her skin like a cloak. If Arina was the midday sun then Elain was radiating dawn. Lucien all but sauntered to them, pushing the cup into Elain’s hand.

“You look nice,” he lied. Nice was all wrong—Elain was ethereal, his every fantasy come to life. She beamed before pressing red lips to the glass. Lucien’s whole body tightened at the sight, earning an irritated look from Arina who gratefully did not comment on the scent he knew must be rolling off him. Elain might trust the Day Court princess but Lucien didn’t—not yet, at any rate. Not when his brother was watching her so hawkishly, caught up in the rivalry that had always existed between their courts. Lucien didn’t trust Arina to keep Elain safe if it came between Helion and Lucien’s mate.

“I was hoping you’d let Gunnar dance with you,” he murmured, hand trailing down her back. Little pearl buttons lined against her spine, creating the most delicious friction against his palm. He needed to get himself together. Lucien took another long, slow drink to try and steady himself.

“Why?”

“Because he wants you,” Lucien replied. “And I’m getting nowhere with him. I want to see the border but he’s suspicious of me. Maybe you could work a little of your magic?”

Elain’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at him, her fingers brushing over the back of his hands. “And what magic is that?” Lucien licked his lips. How did he even begin to explain? “You’re doing it right now.”

She pressed just a little closer, hand pressed against his chest. “I’m just looking at you.”

He almost called the whole thing off. Lucien almost pulled her into his own arms so he could dance her silly and stupid, could let everyone else watch her twirl in his grasp. Jealous. And in his mind, he didn’t gloat though his eyes told everyone watching what they all knew—she’s mine. 

It was hard to pretend, even as Elain offered him one last dazzling smile before slipping away, finishing her drink and leaving the cup with a serving fae. He could only watch, eyes trained on the slight sway of her hips. Gunnar had noticed too, giving up on seducing his own frigid, angry wife. She was in a mood and Lucien could guess why. Rumors abound that he’d been caught with the Vallahan emissary the night before who just so happened to be some sort of relation, though that might have been just a vicious court rumor. He’d embarrassed her and now she would shun him, for all it deterred anyone. She didn't want to leash her ladies and as a result, none of them respected her.

Elain was caught in Gunnar’s easy grasp with a friendly smile. Game on. 

“You’re letting him touch her?” Eris asked when Lucien went back to the table, his body warm from all the liquor. Eris held his own glass between two fingers, his expression one of supreme boredom. “Say the word and I’ll cut off his hands.”

“Since when do you care who touches Elain?”

Eris glanced over at Lucien before swirling his cup absently. He threw it back like a shot, shuddering at whatever it was he tasted. “She doesn’t belong here with the monsters, Lucien.”

“Sure she does,” he replied with just an edge in his voice. What did Eris know about Elain or where she belonged? She wanted to be here, dancing with the King of Rask. She could have been his consort for how fluidly she moved, how utterly regal she seemed. Elain, whether she thought so or not, had been born to be High Fae. Maybe even a King’s wife, had she not been paired up with him. Lucien could see it all so clearly, how powerful men would fall to their knees just for a kind word from her lips. 

Mine. 

“She doesn’t,” Eris grumbled, looking into his empty cup. “If we were smart, we’d leave tomorrow.”

“Then go.” Lucien’s words were a dismissal. He didn’t want to have this conversation with his brother, not when he was watching Elain laugh, head tossed back so the tips of her hair brushed against the soft swell of her ass. Lucien had always been attracted to Elain but tonight felt different. He was needy, achy. The mere sight of her hands sliding up Gunnar’s shoulder, as if he were the most fascinating male in the world, was doing something strange to him. It wasn’t jealousy—not exactly, anyway. It was desire. Watching her was enough to ignite a flame in his stomach, raw, rabid lust shooting into his cock. Eris was watching with the same lurid fascination, as if he’d never seen two people dance before. 

Gunnar dropped his face, blonde curls spilling over his forehead and Elain arched into the touch, letting his lips brush over her cheek. Lucien imagined what it would be like to touch her like that, to drag his tongue over her skin and taste the sweet, musky salt of her body—

“Oh fuck,” Eris snarled, slamming his cup to the table behind them. Lucien’s attention snapped to his brother, catching the rough smell of arousal…not just from Eris, but everywhere. He’d been so busy staring at Elain that he hadn’t noticed a pair grinding against each other a mere ten feet away from him and Eris, pulling at each other’s clothes with talons and teeth. 

“They spiked the fucking wine,” Eris swore. 

It should have alarmed him, given Gunnar had Elain flush against him, his hand sliding down her back. Her eyes were heavy lidded, body pliant beneath the Kings touch. Lucien thought to join them, perhaps. Or maybe he’d—

Eris strolled across the room, all but dragging Elain out of Gunnar’s embrace. She was laughing, nearly tipping to the ground. Only Eris, his hand firm against her arm, kept her on her feet. Lucien trotted just behind, unsure what to say. “Eris,” she was giggling, shoving futilely against Eris’s grasp. “I was having fun.”

“You were about five steps from falling to your knees,” he grumbled. 

“I would never,” she protested, twisting in Eris’s grasp to look at Lucien. “Tell him. We have never—”

“Yes, Elain, why don’t you scream it a little louder,” Eris interrupted. “I am well aware of what’s happening between you two.”

Eris all but shoved Elain into Lucien’s grasp at the foot of the stairs.

“Take her to your room and bolt the fucking door. No orgies.”

Lucien frowned before hauling Elain up over his shoulder. “Wait! Eris, wait–!”

He paused, the tension in his body practically rippling beneath his skin. “Find Arina. Don’t let them…she’ll be so upset in the morning.” Eris’s eyes darkened. “Done.”

Eris vanished before Lucien could remind his brother that her regret would extend to him, unable to do much more than suppress the groan building in his chest. Elain’s breasts were squashed against his shoulders, the scent of her arousal practically in his nose. It was effort, dumping her on their shared bed before turning back for the door to bolt it. He did the sliding door, too while Elain giggled on the bed, kicking off her shoes.

“How long is this going to last?” she asked him breathlessly and fuck if Lucien remembered. The last time he’d had wine like this he’d been practically a boy running amok in the Forest House. It had been one of his older brothers to lace their drink during Autumn Equinox and their mother had been irate, silent tears streaming down her face the next morning. At the time, Lucien had assumed she was embarrassed by how they’d defiled the forest but now…he knew she’d hated how the wine made her want her husband, how she’d all but crawled in Beron’s lap that night. 

“Hours,” he panted, back pressed against the closet door. “Until the wine is out of our system.”

Elain’s eyes were blown out, so dark he could practically see his reflection. It wasn’t like her nightmares—there was bright light just behind, making her seem particularly mischievous. 

“If you lock the closet—”

“Why would I do that?” she murmured, kicking off her shoes. “I like you where you are.”

He exhaled hard. “You’re not thinking clearly–”

“Or maybe I’m thinking clearly for the first time since we met,” she replied, rising from the bed like his every fantasy come to life. Lusty bedroom eyes beckoned him before she turned, sweeping her hair with one fluid motion to the side. “Will you at least help me out of this dress?”

“And into what?” he whispered, his fingers already undoing her buttons. Inch by inch, Lucien began barring her tanned skin, his fingers trailing over her smooth body.

“You could help me into bed?” she suggested when he’d finished. She held the front of the dress against her breasts, pulling her arms from the sleeves before she let it pool entirely at her feet. Elain was all but naked beneath, her body hidden in a matching pair of pink, lacy underthings she presumably wore because she liked them and not because she imagined he might see. Lucien’s knees shook at the sight. 

She slid into bed with all the grace of a practiced seductress. “Elain, I—” Her eyes silenced him. His mate. 

“You’ll regret it in the morning,” he managed, his fingers reaching for the silver buttons on his jacket.

“I don’t think so,” she murmured appreciatively when he pushed the offending cloth from his shoulders, letting it join her dress on the floor. “Shirt, Lucien.”

“You want to see me with my clothes off?” It was meant to sound suggestive–flirty. It came out sound awed, breathless.

“Yes,” she agreed. And so off when his shirt, and then his boots, until all that was left were his pants and his aching, raging cock just behind. His blood pulsed in time with his heart, thick and heavy, urging him to do something about his aching need. 

He crawled up the bed, both terrified and desperate, so certain he’d screw this whole thing up. And Elain, pliant and warm and wonderful Elain, let him guide her back to the mattress. “I’ve only done this once before,” she told him, eyes dark and wide. 

“I’m not fucking you,” he breathed, running his nose over the hollow of her neck. “Not yet, anyway. If I only have this one night…” If he only had one night and the magic of the wine laced with aphrodisiac, Lucien intended to make the best of it. He wanted everything, wanted her to remember his hands and mouth just as surely as she’d remember his cock. 

“If you only…oh…” she whispered as his mouth replaced his nose, kissing softly against her neck. It was supposed to be this way…but it wasn’t. Elain’s hips flew off the bed, grinding against him and Lucien’s last little thread of control shredded to dust. Maybe, if she ever let him touch her again, he’d give a slow, sweet seduction. The sort that would take hours to finish, the kind where she’d tremble from just a featherlight touch. The wine urged them to take, to do something about the burning desire they both were writhing beneath. Lucien pushed his cock against her, groaning at the heat he felt radiating between the cloth separating them. Lucien needed to taste her, needed to put her pussy on his face. He reached, her mouth sliding against his own and Lucien was utterly lost, awash in the taste of the wine still bright against her tongue, the heady honeyed smell of her mingled with the musky sweetness of her arousal. 

Fingers threaded through his hair, tugging at his careful braid until the strands cascaded around them. Elain moaned, unsatisfied with his scalp. He pushed against her, desperate for relief when those same nails dragged over the skin of his back, sliding into the band of his pants to grasp at his ass and push him harder, to all but forced them together, over and over until they’d created a bruising pace, grinding their half naked, sweat slicked bodies against the other. Nothing had ever felt better in his entire life than kissing her with all the pent up passion he’d been forced to swallow those last five years, her body rolling rhythmically beneath him. She was going to come—Lucien could feel how she trembled, how she was seeking more friction, was gasping into his mouth, her eyes rolling backwards. He might have pulled away had the sight not been so intoxicating. Let her, he decided just a moment before she came apart, grinding so hard against his pants he could feel the wet soaking against his cock. 

Only then did Lucien find some semblance of strength, peeling himself off her. Elain watched, breasts jiggling with each new breath, practically spilling from that lace ensemble. “Did I buy you that?”

“Yes,” she whispered, running her hands over the skimpy fabric. Lucien let himself admire her for one more moment, dressed in the underthings he’d purchased for her. 

“Take it off,” he ordered, rubbing his own erection through the wet stain of his pants. Elain arched her back, reaching for the clasp in the back, sending his eyes rolling back into his head. Elain tossed them to the side, eyes daring him to tell her to keep going.

“Touch,” he managed, his voice hoarse. She did, her hands reaching for the soft swells, fingers tugging at the rosy tipped peaks. 

“And the rest.”

“What about you?” she demanded softly, breath hitching in her throat. Lucien stepped forward, gesturing at his pants.

“Come look at what a mess you made.”

Elain rose to her knees with a curved, wicked smile. “You know,” she began as she rested the most perfect ass Lucien had ever seen on the heels of her feet. “The ladies of court have discussed quite loudly what they’d do if they were to ever get their hands on the laces of your pants.”

He was only half listening, drunk on her gentle tugs, a mere moment from freeing him into her hands. “They talk of all sorts of terribly wicked things.”

“Like?”

Elain reached, squeezing her soft hand around his shaft. It was with nothing but pure, masculine pride to see her fingers unable to touch, at the stripe of untouched skin where she couldn’t quite grasp him. 

“I wasn’t aware you could use your mouth,” she said, lowering her face so her lips touched the crown of his cock, her breath fanning over the sensitive skin. Elain looked up through thick lashes with her fuck me eyes and Lucien realized she knew exactly what she was doing.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?”

He threaded his fingers in her hair, nodding desperately as her petal soft mouth linked the length of him, tongue swirling against the head. Hollowed cheeks swallowed a third of his shaft into her throat with relative ease for someone who claimed to be unpracticed. Lucien groaned, using his hand to guide her head.

“That’s it,” he praised. “My pretty girl.”

Elain hummed her approval, squirming with pleasure. He needed to eat her. “Elain,” he tried but she was rubbing her tongue in time with the movements just beneath the tip of his head and oh, Gods, he’d come if she did that. “Get on your back.”

She released him with a wet pop of her mouth, the sound so obscene he could have died. “Is something wrong?”

“I haven’t eaten tonight,” Lucien all but growled when she did as he asked though she was all wrong. Her legs hung over the bed and Lucien very much was not done feeling her silky tongue caress him.

“I’m starving, Elain.”

He turned her, spilling her lovely hair against the edge of the bed as he came towards her. He could feel the strands brush against the hair of his leg. He reveled in it, cock in hand as he rubbed it over her swollen lips. “Take your clothes off.”

Elain scrambled from her underwear, balling it into a wad and throwing it to the end of bed. The noise that escaped him was hardly elegant–the desperate keen made her smile. She wiggled a little before her knees fell open, draped over the bed like the most tempting offering he’d ever seen. 

Carefully, Lucien slid his cock back into her mouth, all but bruising the back of her throat. Elain pressed at his thighs, telling him when she’d had enough. “Good, that’s good,” he praised, spreading his legs wide so he could control the angle of his thrusts even as he hovered over her. “I’m going to fuck your mouth with my cock while I fuck your cunt with my tongue. Would you like that?”

She whimpered, swallowing him down when he moved his hips and fuck Lucien was already too close, too desperate. It was all he could do but grab her by the legs and bury his face between her thighs, taking that first needy taste of her. It was meant to be a teasing lick, his tongue slow as he worked up the length of her. Elain practically sobbed with pleasure, the rumbling vibration of her moan settling in his sac. Lucien was trying to control his hips, to resist the urge to slam into her throat and make her take all of him whether she wanted to or not. Instead, he distracted himself from the wet slide of her mouth and her perfect little tongue by spreading her wide open with his thumb. 

He’d never get over the slight of her gleaming, trembling pink cunt, still swollen from when she’d come against his clothed erection. Elain ground against him, inadvertently taking more of his cock with the new angle of her body. They moaned in time, Lucien taking every inch he could get before he gave up, once again, trying to draw her out. 

“Make a mess of my face,” he ordered, speaking the words against her clit before he did as promised. She whined, choking softly when a little more of his length pushed against the back of her throat. He could feel her working to breathe even as she kept her lips wrapped tight, sucking in air before he slid back in, over and over. 

Lucien was let wild need take over, feasting on her pussy like it was the finest meal he’d ever had. It was easy enough to figure what she liked, to slide his tongue as far into her tight heat as he could before dragging it up her middle and swirling over her clit for a hot, wet kiss. Elain bucked and writhed, covering him in her slick arousal. If he was close, so was she. She could feel her shaking legs clenched tight around his face.

She hit at his thighs, not to tell him to stop but in warning. Elain screamed when his lips closed once again around that swollen nub of flesh, dragging him into climax with her. Lucien poured himself down her throat, grunting with each thrust of his hips. 

Lucien pulled his still aching cock from her mouth if only to crawl over her, to pull her back to the bed. “You want more.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew she did because he did, too. Elain, panting and flushed, her lips bright red from swallowing his cock, watched him with those dark, lust stained eyes. “Say it,” he ordered, if only to give himself something to fantasize about when she inevitably decided they’d made a terrible mistake.

“I want more,” she said, her voice clear—strong.

“You want my cock,” he continued, pushing apart her legs, taking himself in hand. “You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, licking her lips as Lucien dragged the head of his aching arousal up her slick cunt, teasing her clit until he, too, was practically panting. Lucien all but fell over her, his hand closing around her neck.

“There will be no one else,” he whispered against her jaw.

“Regardless of what happens in the morning. There will only be me, only be you.”

She looked up at him, fingers grazing his stubbled jaw. “Mate.”

He hadn’t meant to thrust into her the way he did. It was as if she’d pulled a string and Lucien had merely obeyed the command. Elain gasped, her whole body tensing and too late, Lucien remembered what she’d said at the beginning. Only once before. When she’d been human, about to be married. Lucien slanted his mouth over hers in apology, holding himself utterly still despite the wild flame demanding he claim her. Lucien kissed, tongue stroking her own, until she relaxed against him, her rigid body warming, her fingers sliding up over his back. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praised, kissing her cheek, her neck, behind her ear. “You take my cock so well.”

Elain arched, letting him suck one of her nipples into his mouth and lavish it with the same sweet praise. Sweet, pretty mate, he through, trading one breast for the other until she began to whine, lifting and wiggling with need. Lucien was coming apart, the seams that held him together slowly unraveling. Elain, with her tight, perfect pussy and her soft, warm body that conformed to his every contour. Lucien couldn’t be slow, couldn’t be nice, couldn’t give her the slow seduction he’d once dreamt of when they were newly mated and he’d been sure she’d come around if he only gave her time.

Driving need pushed Lucien to thrust back into her, withdrawing to the tip only to push back. Elain met him savagely, lifting her hips to grind against him. He wasn’t the only one who was working out whatever was happening, whatever had been happening. “Five fucking years,” Lucien growled against her neck, sucking the skin until she yelped. He soothed the little hurt with his tongue. “You’ve denied me this sweet pussy for five fucking years.” She kissed him, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip. “You’ll fuck me when I say you can,” she whispered when blood flooded into his mouth.

Lucien had never been harder in his life. He put his hand back around her throat. “You’re a fucking brat.”

Elain’s eyes found him. “Your fucking brat.”

His balls tightened painfully, forcing him to squeeze his ass to keep from pouring himself into her. She was so fucking sexy, so utterly stunning. He was losing his mind. “Come on my cock, Elain. I want to fuck you again.”

She moaned, grinding against his body until she’d found that sweet spot. Elain broke with a scream he all but sucked from her throat, strangling it with the press of his fingers to her windpipe. Climax couldn’t have come a moment too soon. Lucien all but burrowed himself in her cunt, spilling every last drop of come into her body. 

“Oh, my Gods,” Elain whispered, throwing her head back against the pillow. Lucien knew why. He kissed her mouth.

“Again?”

She nodded. “Please.

3.5 [Eris bonus pollen]

Find Arina. Eris stalked through the palace, trying to ignore the scent of arousal burning in his nose. When he’d hoped for a devolving orgy, he’d hoped for consent, if nothing else. Everyone was mindless with need, hardly caring who touched who or if they even liked each other. For some pairs, like his idiot brother and giggling Elain, Eris thought it was likely to work out.

For him, though?

Eris stopped in the throne room. There she was in that clingy white dress, her back bared save for a thin line of chains draped against her skin. Arina wasn’t Autumn Court–she was pure Day and Eris knew the reputation of Helions court. She clearly had no compunction with reaching for the first person she saw—some pretty little strawberry blonde, tits already bared. Eris halted, ignoring the way his control was fraying. 

Arina wasn’t just Elain’s friend or Helions scholar or emissary or lover or whatever she fucking was. Arina was his mate. The snap had been brutal, near violent in its intensity and since he’d felt it, Eris had been merely ignoring her. He didn’t know if she’d felt it too, though he’d seen her eyes on him often enough.

Unlike Elain and Lucien, who were fun to taunt, Eris avoided Arina entirely. No conversation, no traded barbs. Nothing that might make someone look at her twice, that might cause them to think she was a tool that could be used against him. Until that moment, Eris had made peace with sending her back to Helion, to maybe seeing her again in two or three centuries when Beron was dead and he’d brought Autumn to heel. 

That was before he watched his mate drag her tongue over the other female’s neck. She wasn’t looking at whoever she touched—Arina was looking at him. Eris’s lips parted and some small part of him wanted to be difficult. He wanted to turn entirely and leave her there. Let her see how little he cared.

But fuck she was so gorgeous. He had an excuse, he told himself. If he fucked the Day Court scholar under the influence of an aphrodisiac, Beron would hardly care. No one would think twice about it. She was there, he was there…this other fucking female he ever much wanted to get rid of was there. 

“Are you going to just watch?” she taunted as he approached. Eris cracked his neck as if he wasn’t being ridden hard with lust.

“Maybe. I see this shit every day.”

Arina shrugged, reaching for the broached clasps on her shoulders. With one easy tug, she removed every stitch of clothing. Eris nearly knelt before her. She was glorious, all soft bronze skin and lush curves. “Every day?” she challenged, turning her backside to him to go back to her quivering female. Eris grabbed her around her middle, keeping her from sinking to the floor and burying her face into cunt.

“I don’t think so,” he whispered, grinding his hips against her ass. She gasped at what she felt, his painful, aching erection sliding over her bare skin, leashed only by the laces of his pants. 

“Jealous?” she taunted breathlessly. 

“Desperately,” he agreed, hauling her into his arms, limbs flailing, to take her out of that throne room. He’d be damned if anyone looked at her perfect body but him. 

“Is this the kind of male you are?” she asked when he tossed her on his bed. She looked good there, spayed out among his immaculate sheets. “Possessive?”

“To a fault,” he agreed, reaching for the buttons on his jacket. She all but crawled to the edge of the bed, blonde hair falling around her perfect face. “I don’t want your lips on anyone but me.” Her arousal was sweet in the air, driving him insane as he peeled himself from his clothes. Arina merely watched and he wondered how often she called the shots. Maybe Day Court males liked being bossed around. 

Eris fucking didn’t. Not when he had so little control anywhere else in his life. Not when he knew his mate would yield, would trust him. No one trusted him. Eris walked to the bed, erection bobbing between his legs. Forest green eyes looked at nothing else, head cocked as she drank him in. He let her for one anxious moment. It was a terrifying thing. 

Do you like me?

Arina’s eyes found us, a smile curved over her mouth. “Who knew the sons of High Lords were so well equipped?” His hand shot forward, wrapping itself in her long, silken hair. “Get on your knees, Arina.”

Defiance flared in her eyes. “Or what?”

“I’ll make you,” he replied coolly. “We both know what you want.” She let him tug her from the bed. “And what’s that?” Using her hair as a leash, Eris dragged her flush against him until he was nestled in the cradle of her thighs. Their eyes met, breath mingled in the inch of air between them. “You want to please your mate.”

She sucked in a breath. “You feel it?”

For one stupid moment, Eris nearly pulled her into his grasp and held her against him. Maybe if he’d only been overcome with his usual lust he could have slowed himself down, could have reassured her of his terrible–yet honorable–intentions.

“I feel it,” was all Eris could manage as he pushed her to her knees.

“Open your mouth.”

There was no hesitation when she looked up at him. No fear. Even the females in his own court couldn’t quite manage that. Oh, they tried. They wiggled and teased and did everything he asked but he saw the flicker of uncertainty if he was just a little too rough, a little too bossy. 

Beron. 

Arina blazing defiance, her unguarded trust made his legs shake even as he pushed his cock against her firmly closed lips. “Open your mouth,” he ordered again, praying to the Mother above she wouldn’t. 

Let me show you what we could have. 

“Make–” she didn’t get to finish that bratty fucking sentence. Eris pushed past her teeth, hissing at the scrape before he had himself in her throat. She gagged, a tear slipping over her cheek. He thumbed it away, tilting her head, stuffed to the gills with his cock, and smiled. “You’re so fucking sexy like this.” He had practically no control, dragging himself a mere inch out before plunging back in. She gagged loudly, eyes flooded. Eris exhaled a breath. “I wish you could see how well you swallow me.”

He had no intention of finishing this way—at least, not the first time. Eris wanted to watch his come drip out of her pussy, wanted to see it stain the sheets beneath them. He was merely jealous she was going to put her perfect mouth on one of Gunnar’s worthless courtiers. It was an absurd thing to expect her to be like Elain—chaste to a fucking fault, likely upstairs crying all over Lucien’s chest while he politely divested her of her virginity. Eris liked Arina’s experience, liked the sheer faerieness of her. 

And he was jealous, all the same. Jealous of everyone she’d ever opened her mouth for, jealous of every cock that had ever spread her legs. 

Eris withdrew himself when her face was a mess of mascara and lipstick. “Fuck,” he breathed, hauling her to her feet for a bruising kiss. She tasted like him—like his salt, his musk, mingled against her own citrusy sweet scent. Eris swallowed it down, tongue chasing that taste as he walked her back to the bed. “How do you like to be fucked?” he moaned, hand sliding between her legs. She was dripping, her thighs practically coated in her slick arousal. Eris brought his fingers to his mouth to taste.

Arina crawled on the bed, burying her face into the mass of silken pillows and Eris thought he might be in love. Her round, curved ass wiggled in the air, cunt presented in all its gleaming, wet glory. Eris came up behind her, sliding his hand over her cheek before slapping hard. “Is this what you like?”

She whimpered, turning her head to look. Eris slapped again and again, until her skin was ruddy and imprinted with his hand. He liked the look of it. Maybe, he thought as he lowered his chest to the bed, he’d cover that pretty body of hers in come, too. 

“What are you—”

“I’m hungry, Arina,” he interrupted, pushing her legs further apart.

“Let me eat in peace.”

She whined, the sound music to his cock. Pretty, pretty mate, he thought with delight, sliding his tongue up the center of her. His fingers hadn’t done her justice, had barely scratched the surface of the heady arousal now branded in his mouth. Eris knew he’d never get that taste from the back of his throat. It was worth it, though he knew it would be torture to go back to pretending she was nothing, to have this one little moment with her. To know what was waiting if he was patient enough, careful enough. 

Arina was responsive, grinding her cunt against his face to get what she needed. He wasn’t going to give it to her—she’d come on his cock and only his cock. At least this time, at least. Perhaps if there was another stolen moment where he could risk being drenched in her cunt and he wasn’t under the influence of laced wine. He’d lay her out and have her properly, would make love to her and tell her he thought her beautiful—and whatever else he felt, assuming he felt anything at all. He only knew what he could see, was too afraid to learn anything else about her. Anything that could be pulled from his mind and used against him. It wasn’t just Beron constantly trying to hurt him. Rhysand was always digging in his brain for secrets. He’d seen what they done with Elain to keep Lucien docile. What was stopping Night from asking to borrow Arina for a century or two? 

“Eris,” she whispered, bringing him back to the task at hand. He was offering her slow, languid licks. Working her up without letting her crest any further. Teasing was good, he reasoned, dipping his tongue as deeply as he could before withdrawing. Arina all but sobbed for relief but Eris didn’t offer her an ounce of mercy. He wanted to hear her beg, was rewarded when his lips closed around her clit, sucking softly.

“Eris, please!” she pleaded near- incoherently. He removed his mouth entirely, slamming himself to the hilt into her soaking cunt. His rolls backed into his head at the tight stretch of her body, of the way she immediately came, the walls of her pussy convulsing around him, sucking him in. He hadn’t been prepared for that. His fingers curled against her hips, bruising her flawless skin. Eris felt like a unseasoned male all over again, fucking his very first female. He could have come from her climax alone, was already bruisingly on edge.

He slapped her ass, enjoying her breathless yelp. “You come when I say you can.”

She pushed against him, ass flush against his abdomen. “Come for me, mate,” she whispered instead, squeezing around him until Eris had his head thrown back in ecstasy. He needed more, had to wrap his hand back in her thick, golden hair and pull her back so he could kiss her. 

“It’s not the fucking wine,” he growled against her throat. “This is us. Say it.”

“This is us,” she whined before he captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. Eris came, pouring more than just come into his mate. He pressed his forehead against her sweaty back, kissing and licking as his hips bucked. He couldn’t stop, even after he’d poured out, using his own emission as lubrication.

“I’m going to come for you,” she whispered when he got her on her back. She reached for his face, caressing his cheek. Eris leaned down and kissed her, wondering if the tightness in his chest wasn’t arousal at all. Wondered if he wasn’t, impossibly, in love with this female.

“I hope you do.”

[amythenortherner]

Anyways I think the end of game of thrones is pretty bad but I think that Brienne and Jaime’s Fuck Loyalty is pretty good. We don’t know their ending yet in the books but I think that “fuck loyalty” could have been a perfect ending for them. Brienne is so loyal to Cat and then Sansa, and I always felt that everyone really took advantage of Brienne’s loyalty. Everyone but Jaime. Jaime stays so loyal to Cersei, but she takes advantage of that too. In the show Jaime emphasizes to Cersei how only they matter, only the two of them matter. I think a true ending for Brienne and Jaime that would have truly done them justice would have been a continuation of fuck loyalty. Fuck them, fuck everybody, but each other. Forget fighting for Sansa, forget fighting for the north, the throne, kings landing. Fuck loyalty to everyone but each other.

[theadventuresofgarlandodra]

The Adventures of Garl and Odra Manyboots- When Wick Met Crowley

Prev.

Three years ago…

“Sir Crowley, you truly were sent by angels to solve all our problems.”

Crowley remained knelt as the king showered praises on him. From the man’s position on the throne, it probably looked like Crowley was keeping his head bowed to the ground out of respect. And no noble was paying close enough attention to the aasimar’s eyes flicking from side to side. Watching them. Analyzing them.

The nobles looked like they were sharing a laugh, smirking and side eyeing the ‘simple’ paladin. The servants tried to keep their looks to themselves, but the ones they couldn’t hide were pitying. The way a butterfly pities the grasshopper tangled up in the spider’s web.

When the king finally took a breath, Crowley put a pleasant expression on his face. “Thank you, your majesty, but you speak too highly of me. I only wished to help, like any other good man would do,” he said, the lie sliding off his tongue smooth as honey. “As much as I’ve enjoyed my time in your beautiful lands, I will have to take my leave soon. There are others who need my assistance, as you had.”

“Leave? So soon?” The king looked disappointed, almost sad. “The time you’ve spent in my palace has passed so quickly.”

It’s been almost four months, Crowley thought, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent the obvious from slipping out. “I am grateful for your generous hospitality,” now that was laying it on a bit thick, even if he did love the suite he had been taking up space in, “but it is my creed, my oath, to go forth to help those who are in help, and once they no longer need me, I must move on.”

The king’s eyes briefly narrowed, his lip twitching as he forced himself to look as amicable as he always had. “Well, what is it I can give to you? Something to make any future journeys easier, or for you to enjoy your last night in my company,” he said.

And there it was. Crowley wanted to smack the king across the face. Crowley wasn’t like the rest of the country bumpkins the king had wheedled and conned into becoming his pets and pawns. No, he was smarter than that. He knew this king had a habit of tangling the people who worked for him into barbed snares and carefully worded contracts that would basically turn them into slaves. Usually they didn’t have the power or the nerve to fight back, resigning themselves to their cage. It was a beautiful cage, as far as cages went, but Crowley wasn’t a canary. If he had to compare himself to a bird, it would be a shrike.

Small, deadly, and with a penchant for impaling his prey in gruesome fashion.

Crowley had been careful to avoid anything that would tie him permanently to the king, not partaking in the glorious feasts or the company of the many beautiful courtesans and entertainers that the king decorated his palace with. He’d given the king every chance to stop playing this stupid game.

Well, you couldn’t fix stupid, and you couldn’t say no to a spoiled old man. No doubt if Crowley denied him again, he’d find another way to pin Crowley down. This problem had to be solved directly.

“Your generosity is so overwhelming, sir…” Crowley’s eyes flicked around the court again. He couldn’t get out of this alone. He needed an ally. Someone who was done with playing the songbird, the pretty statue in the corner, the slave who just needed a little push over the edge.

His gaze landed on a fire genasi and stayed there. Crowley vaguely remembered the minstrel’s beautiful music, but hadn’t given him much of a second look. Now he was taking that second look, and although the genasi tried to play it off as a face of resignation… there was some real rage behind those eyes that flickered like flames.

Perfect.

“But, if you insist, I suppose… I miss the music of my hometown.” Crowley sighed and rested a hand on his chest. “I dream of it every night, it makes my heart ache. If you have someone who can play the songs of Perre’daluney on a lute, I’d be eternally grateful.”

The king brightened up. “I have a man who can play any music you could ever want!” he clapped his hands. “Wick’of’Candle! Come forth!”

The fire genasi frowned but managed to put a pleasant expression on his face as he came forward. He cleared his throat. “I would be honored to perform for you, Sir Crowley,” he said.

Crowley smirked. “He’ll be perfect,” he nodded at the king, “please, have him sent to my suites tonight. I’d like to enjoy his music in… private. To help put me to sleep, you understand.”

There was a little snickering from the nobles and for a moment Crowley thought the genasi was going to set his instrument on fire. The king chuckled, looking darkly at the seething genasi. “Wick, you do whatever our privileged guest wants, and you’ll be well rewarded yourself,” he said.

“Yes, your majesty.”

That night Crowley was lounging on his couch, wearing one of the fancy robes he’d deprived himself of these several months, when the door banged open and in marched ‘Wick’of’Candle’.

“All right, what are you actually up to?” the genasi crossed his arms. “If you’re from Perre, I will eat my lute. I grew up there. I never heard of a ‘Crowley’.”

“Maybe I lived in Perre’daluney after you did,” Crowley said, glancing up from his couch. “You’re a genasi, you live much longer than most.”

“And you’re an aasimar, but you’re still not from Perre. No one who lived there called it Perre’daluney, they just call it Perre. So I say it again. What are you actually trying to do here?”

Crowley sighed before he sat up, shrugging off the robe. “Have a seat, pour yourself a glass of wine, Wick’of’Candle. We have plenty to discuss.”

“I’d rather remain sober. I’ve drunk enough of his majesty’s wine. And just Wick will do.” Wick did at least take a seat, his eyes suspiciously glancing Crowley up and down. “I don’t know what impression you have of me, but I’m not a whore. I’m a minstrel. I play music, not under the sheets.”

“Not happily though, do you?” Crowley smiled as Wick winced. “What? I’m not blind, nor deaf. Your music is beautiful but it’s… missing something. I’m not really much of a musician, but something still sounds off.”

Wick’s jaw clenched, but the minstrel took a deep breath to calm himself. “… If you really must know, I was a part of a duo. That is probably what sounds missing,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s it.” Crowley tapped his chin and leaned forward. “If you had a partner, he would’ve been tricked into one of the king’s contracts too. He didn’t just leave. Who was he? And what happened to him? Did he try to run away?”

The genasi looked at the floor before sighing. He set his instrument to the side. “We tried leaving a few months in, and this is what happened to me.” Wick had been dressed in this gaudy beaded vest that he easily shrugged off, and when he turned his back the scars that stretched across his back were clearly from a whip. He twisted back forward. “It was bearable when I had Wax though.”

“Wick’of’Candle… perhaps… Wax’of’Candle? Traveling brothers or lovers?” Crowley asked.

“Brothers… Wax was my little brother,” Wick swallowed and Crowley recognized that brief tensing of his body, the clenching of his fists and the squeezing of eyelids. Pain. Pain more horrible than anything Crowley could do with the sharpest blades in the world. “He’s gone.”

“And not by running away… execution?”

Wick remained still.

“Murder? Did one of the nobles get a bit rough with him?”

Wick pressed his lips firmly together.

“No…ah. He took the coward’s way out. Killed himself and left his big brother to carry the burden alone.”

Crowley learned quickly how poor his choice of words were when in the next moment he was tackled into the couch. Wick’s hand clamped around the paladin’s neck and squeezed down on his airpipe.

“He. Wasn’t. A coward,” Wick growled. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rip your throat out.”

Crowley gasped before he grasped the dagger he’d hidden in his robe and pulled it out, pressing it against Wick’s exposed ribs. He didn’t need to say anything, the blade did that enough. Wick gritted his teeth before he eased up, finally releasing the paladin and getting off of him.

“You’re going to tell the king I’ve attacked you, I assume?” the genasi mumbled.

“Please,” Crowley coughed, massaging his bruising neck. “I’d sooner slit my guts open. No, Wick, I need you. And you need me.”

“I need you?” Wick snorted. “Please.”

“No, I’m being serious. Sit down, please, and pour me some of that wine. I think I saw the darkness coming to drag me to hell.”

Wick still looked suspicious but he did as he was told. After Crowley downed the wine, he sighed with relief. “I’m not a fool- not implying you were, just naive- and I know the king is planning on turning me into one of his assets as soon as I get myself in debt to him. No doubt he’ll use your company as a bargaining chip. And if I simply continued to deny his offers, he’d find another way to keep me. I don’t deal well with being kept, or threatened, or blackmailed. I value my freedom.”

Wick frowned. “But you’re a… paladin…” his eyes widened. “You are a paladin, yes?”

“In a way, I am. But I’m not the paladin that idiot king thinks I am.” Crowley snorted. “You think I do this to help people? Out of the good of my heart? Please. In our world, you take or you’re taken. I’m taken by no one, and I abide by no code. I do this for what I get out of it- gold. Wealth. Magical items. I’ve collected quite a bit, and it’ll be more than a little difficult to continue to live the life I want to under the thumb of some fat royal arsehole who thinks he’s smarter than me. I need allies. I have one. And with you, I’ll have two.”

“Right…” Wick tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. “And why will I be your ally exactly?”

“I’ll let you kill the king in any gruesomely horrible way you want. And you won’t have to stick by my side once we leave this gods forsaken country in the dust. You can go home, get back to traveling, I don’t care. Your will is going to be yours again, and I’ll never take that from you.”

Wick breathed in sharply and Crowley smirked.

He had him.

“… I might be able to do some work here…” Wick got up to check the door was locked before returning. “Right. Just watch.”

Wick plucked his flute from his belt. His eyes slid half shut and his fingers danced up and down the instrument before they popped back wide, the flickering orange flames in his irises going blue and then white.

Flames danced around the room and Crowley felt his dagger heat up where he’d left it on his lap. He barely had the sense to toss it before the metal starting glowing red hot. “… How did you figure that out?” the paladin asked.

Wick lowered his flute and the pride on his face was impossible to be missed. “After my brother passed, I suddenly tapped into it while practicing the songs we once shared. My mother was a follower of bardic tradition, she was only a human, but she could cast wonderful magic. I never bothered to learn it, I thought it was too hard. It turns out it just takes your heart being metaphorically ripped from your chest to start using magic. I’ve been using fire magics since I was a small child, so the spells I’ve put together so far tend to veer in that direction. I’ve just been practicing in my quarters whenever I have the time to breathe.”

Interesting. Crowley chuckled and slowly nodded, a plan forming in his mind. “A mostly self taught bard. You’re a surprising one, Wick’of’Candle, but I think we’re going to raise hell in this royal sty. First off, I need to get a message outside the gates to my companion, Turgut Tuun. We’ll need his help, he’s a giant buffoon, but he’s reliable since I feed him. After that, we’re going to need some supplies. I take it you know the people in this palace who have little loyalty to their king and are willing to look to the side for some more sketchy things?”

Wick nodded.

“Good. We’re going to need the gossip mongers, a few healers and doctors that are willing to accept bribes. And we’re going to need a cursed jewel I keep in my treasures, and we’re going to need bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. It’s going to be like the Plague of the Red in here, and after that it’s going to be the end of the king’s perfect world. As for that heating metal trick you can do… I have an idea for that.”

~*~

Five generations, his family had ruled this country. Five generations of wealth, and power, and truly King Jowell thought he’d had it all.

And now it was gone.

The palace was in flames. Zombies and skeletons ran wild through the streets. His family- heirs, wives, mistresses, all dead. A few were now the reanimated bodies that tore through his courts. His once beautiful courts.

He had it all. And in the matter of weeks, it was gone.

The paladin that was the cause of his undoing stood in front of him, smiling as the king hung from chains that were ice cold despite the fires roaring around him.

“How could you do this to me!?” Jowell shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “You’re a paladin! You have an oath of loyalty! Of abiding to your word and listening to your king!”

Crowley tossed his head back, laughing and laughing like Jowell had told the funniest joke. “Oh, your majesty, you overestimate the strength of oaths. They’re very easily broken, and I broke mine ages before you had the misfortune of thinking I was the answer to all your prayers. I’m not a gift from heaven, I’m a present from hell. A lesson to be learned from all of this, not that you’ll benefit from it- never beat your broken hounds. The moment you turn your back, they’ll bite.”

Jowell watched as Wick came out of the flames, dressed in the finest of noble’s clothing with a minimal of the previous owner’s blood spatter across it. “You think this looks good on me, Crowley?” he asked, even striking a pose.

“Do a spin, let me decide,” Crowley mocked pensiveness as Wick did a twirl. “Mmm, it’s a bit too loose around the arse. You’ll need to get it tailored.”

Wick laughed, for the first time since his brother passed Wick tossed his head back and laughed. Jowell screamed in rage and pulled at his chains, his wrists turning black as the necrotic energy burned his flesh. “You traitor! I gave you everything you wanted! And this is how you repay me?!” he roared.

Wick’s laugh came to a stop and the genasi turned his flickering eyes on the king. “No, you didn’t give me everything I wanted, your majesty. You took everything from me.” Wick produced a collar from the bag he had thrown over his shoulder. “All I wanted was to have my brother by my side for all my days, to compose the most beautiful music this world has ever heard. And you sent him to that woman, she took his one joy in this world, and he couldn’t live after that.” Wick reached into his bag and pulled out an iron collar. “While I was setting the dungeons ablaze, I found this. You put one of these on me when I wouldn’t perform after Wax died and had me dragged around the court like a dog. I think it’ll be a tighter fit on your fat neck, but it’ll do the job just fine.”

Crowley took the collar, balancing it between his hands before he walked up to the king, snapping it around his neck. “All right, nice and tight. I’m excited to see what this is going to do,” he said before nodding at Wick. “Do your thing.”

Wick twirled his flute between his fingers.

“Your final song, your majesty. Enjoy hell.”

Wick put the flute to his lips and played a song. The king didn’t know what was going on until he felt the collar on his neck heat up.

Then he screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

There was nothing he could do to alleviate the pain. The iron collar’s red hot glow seared through his skin, burning into his flesh and simultaneously scalding any bleeding while burning through it. The king’s eyes rolled back as his clothing finally caught on fire, and there was a final minute of agonized screaming before he went limp. Crowley crouched down to see that the collar had burned through his throat, if it had kept going the king would likely be decapitated.

“Huh. You really went at it, huh?” he turned just in time to see Wick fall to his knees, the genasi gasping for breath and his eyes going dull. “All right, you went a little too far it looks. You’re not exactly a long term caster, idiot, you had him dead by the time it seared through his vocal cords.”

Wick glowered up at the paladin, too out of breath to speak. Crowley sighed before he helped Wick to his feet, letting the bard use him as support. “Come on, we’ve done what we’ve needed done. And I’d rather be a thousand miles from here before anyone catches onto what’s happened.”

~*~

The king was dead. Wick was free. Wax had been at least partially avenged.

Then why did Wick feel so hollow inside?

Crowley had made camp after a full night and day of walking, Wick had yet to leave the paladin’s side. That hot iron spell had really taken it out of him, and being on his own sounded like a new kind of hell.

For the first time in years, he was outside of that palace. Back on the road. Eating rations heated by the campfire, with fellow travelers enjoying the rest after a long day. Like he used to do with Wax.

Gods, he was supposed to feel better after nearly burning that bastard’s head off. But the pain hadn’t gone anywhere, just tightened around his heart so strongly it felt like he was about to break. Nothing had been made better after all. Instead, every time Crowley cracked a joke and Turgut obediently laughed, Wick’s heart sunk lower.

He’s supposed to be here.

He shouldn’t be gone.

He needs to be here.

He’s not here and he’s never coming back.

“Wick?”

Wick jerked out of his reverie to see Crowley looking at him. At least the paladin didn’t bother faking that he cared. It was quite clear Crowley didn’t care about anyone other than himself.

“Did you know that hags hoard a lot of treasure? Mostly magic items, and not as much as a dragon, but enough to be worth the trouble most of the time.”

Wick clenched his jaw. “Why are we talking about hags?” he asked.

“Because, if I was as hellbent on revenge as you, I’d be heading back out there to make sure every hag suffers for what happened to your baby brother,” Crowley patiently explained. “They’re a nasty bunch though, they rarely do their own dirty work. Usually they have their hexblooded children handle the worst of it, or they hire hobgoblins like my friend Turgut here.” Turgut noticeably brightened up at the word ‘friend’ but tried to play it off as his dramatic posturing. “Or ogres, or… really a bunch of other things. I’m definitely a little bored with what I’ve been dealing with lately. Bandits are so par for the course I could kill an entire village of them and have time for tea. A hag could liven things up, so to speak. So, I’m going to kill hags. Would you like to kill hags?”

Wick swallowed.

Well, maybe the king wasn’t enough. Maybe if he managed to rid the world of a few hags, it would help. And who knows… maybe he’d be able to exact his revenge on the hag who hurt Wax.

“I suppose I could pass the time with you. Not like I have anything else to do.”

Next

[rhube]

Look, I'm not saying Martin's worldbuilding has no problems (particularly re race and gender) but reeeeaaaalllly long posts that begin 'I never watched GoT and I was RIGHT because the world building is stupid!' Are so face palm.

If you actually read the books you would see that their whole economy IS based on saving up for the long winters. The point of ASoIaF is that the current rulers of Westeros get SO CAUGHT UP in their stupid politics and the game of thrones (!!!) that they ignore the very real economics on which their power is founded, and the PALPABLE THREAT OF CLIMATE CHANGE.

Like. This is not a subtle theme. But if all you know about the show is that there are a bunch of rich dicks who ignore that winter is coming and fight each other all the time YOU WILL HAVE A COMPLETELY INCORRECT UNDERSTANDING OF THE WORLD AND THE SHOW.

VERY early on - BOOK ONE - people from the river lands (WHERE MOST OF THE FOOD COMES FROM THAT'S MEANT TO FEED PEOPLE THROUGH THE WINTER) show up saying, basically, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, some arsehole knights are fucking up our land and it's going to ruin EVERYTHING. This is a HUGE PROBLEM.

And Ned Stark - who fucking knows winter is coming - says SHIT, that is a PROBLEM, we need to deal with it RIGHT FUCKING NOW. And sends a bunch of knights off to protect the farmers.

After Ned gets killed and everything spirals seriously out of control, those knights keep following Ned's last orders. They become the Brotherhood without Banners, and they're not just doing it because they're loyal to Ned. They don't follow his banner. They're doing it because they realise that it is absolutely essential, for everyone, to protect the farming land and the farmers.

Meanwhile, the rich fucks ARE ALL RUNNING OUT OF MONEY towards the end. Debt collectors become important characters.

Similarly, it's clearer in the books, but Daenerys leaves a swathe of devastation behind her, because she's a conquerer who never pauses to consolidate her power and look after the people she conquers. This is a DAMNING INDICTMENT of shitty rulers. When she finally does pause to try to run a city, it goes TERRIBLY. (Spoilers, i guess?) A Dance with Dragons has Dany shitting herself with plague at the end.

It's not supposed to represent a fantasy world running efficiently. It's supposed to be a warning.

And if you think it's over the top and grotesque (firstly, it's OK to say something is not your genre and let those who like it be) I would like you to look at what's happening RIGHT FUCKING NOW - in Russia, in the UK, in the US, in Italy, and probably a lot of other places whose news I don't see as regularly. With CLIMATE CHANGE. And the PLAGUE. And WAR. And the shitty corrupt politicians who are somehow still in power despite the monumentally TERRIBLE decisions they are making and how much it's fucking things up for everyone.

THAT, is Martin's point.

This is not Westeros at a point of normal, functional living. This is Westeros in the middle of multiple huge crises, with a truly terrible set of people jostling for power. And that starting from a point of complacency that didn't seem so very bad.

You're not meant to think that this kind of nonsense is how Westeros became wealthy. You're meant to reflect on how it got so very fucked up so very fast, and how easy it is for politicians to miss the big fucking picture because of their own selfish desire for power.

It's not bad world-building. It's actually pretty good world-building. Again, long time readers will know I have a LOT of critiques up my sleeve too for these books, but it's against a backdrop of frankly astonishing world-building that few have equalled.

It is not bad world-building to depict a civilization collapsing because the way it's being run wouldn't work!

FFS!

/rant

[heliosphoenix]

State of the Planet: 2023 Edition

Here we are once again. Hours to go until the new year is upon us. Even though when you read this you may very well be in the future, it's time once again to use the few hours we have left in 2023 to take a look at the state of the planet. And...what a state it is. I said last year that 2022 may have very well been the inflection point for this decade, the moment that the 2020's truly began to come into their own. I think that's held true for this year, even though it still feels like folks are trying to find their feet in some aspects. But even in all this confusion and uncertainty, there is still progress to be had. So let's take a look back at some of the good things that happened this year:

The European Parliment commited to ending the sale of petrol and diesel fueled vehicles in the EU by 2035 in an effort to push the adoption of electric vehicles.

The High Seas Treaty was signed by the member states of the UN, this treaty commits to the conservation of 30% of the world's oceans by 2030.

The ozone hole continues to shrink, projections have it on track to recover to 1980's levels by 2050.

Finland became the 31st member of NATO.

The World Health Organization declared that COVID-19 and Monkeypox are no longer a global health emergencies.

The first synthetic human embryo was created from the use of stem cells.

The African Union became the 21st permanent member of the G20 (wouldn't it be G21 now?).

Katalin Karikó & Drew Weissman won the Nobel Prize in medicine for their contributions towards the development of mRNA vaccines against COVID-19.

The FDA approved of a treatment for sickle cell disease involving the use of the gene-editing technique Crispr.

Scientists announced the ability to use AI to decode people's thoughts from brain scans.

King Charles III ascended to the throne in the UK.

Pope Francis decreed that Roman Catholic priests would be allowed to bless same-sex marraiges.

Mexico decriminalized abortion at the federal level.

Despite projections of a recession, the United States economy experienced it's biggest growth since before the pandemic, adding 2.5 million jobs and inflation decreasing to 3.1%.

Spain won the Women's World Cup for the first time in a 1-0 victory over England.

SpaceX's fully stacked Starship flew twice this year, the largest rocket to ever fly (now if only they can get it to stop exploding).

The Jupiter Icy Moons Explorer (JUICE) was launched by the European Space Agency, it's expected to arrive at Jupiter in 2031.

The European Ariane 5 rocket flew its 117th and final mission.

India's Chandrayaan-3 landed at the Moon's south pole, the first spacecraft to do so.

Oppenheimer and Barbie released the same day in theaters and the internet had a lot of fun with that.

Michigan went 13-0 agian and won their third straight Big Ten championship (BEAT BAMA!)

The Pistons actually won a game before the end of the year.

Remember all that? It's okay if you didn't. But once again, this is where I'm at right now.

You are in the future. Every single word on this post is already confined to the history books. How you remember this year is ultimately up to you, but keep in mind that the reason I make these posts is a counterpoint to the many forces out there who have a lot to gain if everyone is under the impression that everything is always terrible all the time.

And that leads me to my word of the year. It's a bit unusual but I think it fits:

The word of the year is: Perception.

At our core, all of us are truth seekers. Whether it's objective truth or personal truth, we all want to find it. One of the benefits of the internet age that, in my opinion, gets taken for granted is that we now have more information available to us than at any time in human history. Our ancestors had to deal with incomplete and contradictory information, but now we can find out pretty much anything in a matter of seconds.

But with that information comes a host of issues. We unfortunately live in an age where a commitment to objective truth is being overshadowed by a desire for personal truth. We're putting less emphasis on what is true and more on what we want to be true. Unfortunately, as Carl Sagan once said, our preferences do not determine what is true.

And there are those who seek to exploit this. There are people in this world that are willing to alter your own perception on how things are. But not to benefit you, but to benefit them. They wish to take advantage of your desire for your own beliefs to be validated for time evermore and turn that against you, so that they can create a better world for themselves even at your own expense.

But you can stop them. All you have to do is be aware that perception doesn't always equal reality.

2024 will be a consequential year. For one thing, it's an election year in the United States which means the stakes are high enough as is. There will be a lot of consequential events over the next 366 days (yay for leap years!), and a lot of people that you've never met will be trying to tell you how to think and what to believe.

Remember that at the end of the day, the most important values are the ones you hold dear. Just because something gets a lot of engagement on your socials doesn't mean it's the best way to contextualize something. Don't allow your beliefs and values to be compromised for the sake of fitting in with trends or trying to cash in on some vague notion of importance; especially when there's people trying to exploit that at your expense.

The first step to healthy civic engagement is a body politic that is informed and questioning. It will do you no harm to read up on whatever topic is trending on the socials. It will only make you informed and then you will be able to decide if a position or a policy is truly the right one for you, based on what you hold to be important.

Knowledge can be scary at times. It may cause us to reevaluate our position, as well as come to realize that something we felt or believed or even wished to be true now has to be totally re-examined in a new light. But all that is what helps us grow, that's what helps us evolve and become stronger.

They used to tell us that "knowledge is power." I can tell you that knowledge only makes you better.

Remember these words as you head into the new year. Rather than wishing for your perception to be reality, base your perception on reality. And then those who thrive on the exploitation of ignorance will have no power over you.

Have a great New Year's Eve, friends. And I'll see you all in 2024.

Helios.

[horizon-verizon]

It was only then that the princess came to realize that she was not there to answer for Tom Turnip, but for more shameful sins. For a moment Saera was at a loss for words, but only for a moment. Then she gasped and said, “My Sweetberry? Truly? She…oh, what has she done? Oh, my sweet little fool.” If Septon Barth’s testimony is to be believed, a tear rolled down her cheek. Her mother was not moved. “You know perfectly well what she has done. What all of you have done. We will have the truth from you now, child.” And when the princess looked to her father, she found no comfort there. “Lie to us again, and it will go very much the worse for you,” King Jaehaerys told his daughter. “Your three lords are in the dungeons, you ought know, and what you say next may determine where you sleep tonight.” Saera crumbled then, and the words came tumbling out one after another in a rush, a flood that left the princess almost breathless. “She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.” “What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.” Jaehaerys was so horrified he could not speak, but the queen kept her composure. “You are very proud of yourself, I see. A woman grown, and nearly seven-and-ten. I am sure you think you have been very clever, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. What do you imagine will happen now, Saera?” “I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.” She had gone too far. Jaehaerys rose to his feet and descended from the Iron Throne, his face a mask of rage. “You would compare yourself to Maegor? Is that who you aspire to be?” His Grace had heard enough. “Take her back to her bedchamber,” he told his guards, “and keep her there until I send for her again.” When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

Fire and Blood, by George R.R. Martin, pg 320-322

[deathsweetblossoms]

Seeds Planted in Frost & Starlight

A compilation of every nudge, hint, whiff of foreshadowing that we got in Frost & Starlight, which decides where the stories will go. Not including bits about Cassian and Nesta, since we saw their story play out in ACOSF already. 

Elain

Elains powers, and how she hasn’t “used” them since the war, are mentioned enough that it’s obvious we’re going to explore it again. 

Her friendship with Nuala and Cerridwen, how “(the wraiths) spent more time with Elain than (Feyre has). They understood her moods, what she sometimes needed” It’s a close enough bond that we are clearly going to see explored...which opens up possible storylines of spying and learning even more new skills. 

Her obvious feelings for Azriel. It’s canon. It’s there. 

The mating bond. Her feelings about that are clear at this point, in that she doesn’t want it. 

Azriel

His backstory, his family, his lineage. We get hints and clues (”Rosehall” “Buy her something from me this time”), but nothing beyond that. 

Azriel’s shadows themselves are mentioned a few times, how they are shadows but aren’t, how they’re different from Rhys’s power, etc. Shadowsinger mythos will be delved into, and more with Truth-Teller. 

His feelings for Elain. Again, it’s canon. It’s there. 

Confronting his feelings/connection with Mor..

Mor

Her long overdue vengeance. “Those were her deaths to claim. They had always been. I had never asked why she waited so long.” Rhysand tells us. 

Revealing of what truly happened with Eris and his motives for leaving her behind

A conversation with Azriel where she reveals her truth (not a seed planted, but something we know needs to happen from ACOWAR)

Mor’s powers and her secret life 

Love interest. It’s going to happen, the build up and her obvious want of it has been hinted, and we were even introduced to her potential future lover:

Emerie & Mor - we got Emerie’s full backstory in this book, and even though we don’t see the suggestion of this pairing until Silver Flames...it’s there simply by her being introduced here. 

Autumn Court

Beron & Eris. Beron has outlived his time, and we have the obvious bargain to help Eris take the throne. Eris will be High Lord at some point. 

Eris redemption arc has been, again, hinted at time and again. He postponed Kier going to Velaris, why? He knows something Azriel doesn’t. He taunts Mor with knowing the truth about why he left her, and is finally realizing it. Feyre contemplates in ACOWAR what his time must have been like Under the Mountain, what games he had to play to survive. Other people have mentioned “he might have been a better male” if he had grown up somewhere else, etc etc. He’s getting redeemed. I have no doubt. 

Eris & Lucien...we’ll delve into that and truly see their relationship, how Eris probably has known Lucien isn’t his brother this whole time. 

Spring Court

Tamlin??? He will either get a redemption arc or die, and someone else will rule the Spring Court. Because it can’t go on being ruled by The Beast. Calanmai needs that yearly ritual to gift the land with it’s fertility magic.... 

Spring Court in general is going to waste, and will need to be rebuilt. 

Band of Exiles

Conflict with Koschei, Vassa’s curse needs to be broken...

Vassien. It’s .. very obvious.

Lucien and his movements. As emissary he now sends twice weekly reports to Azriel but outside of that, Az isn’t watching his movements so as “not to know if he seeks out Elain”. Potential here for some type of reveal since we won’t know where he’s going if Azriel isn’t watching him.

Lucien being heir to Helion. He'll find out. Helion might croak in order for it to happen, but either way, Lucien will find out.

Lucien’s mating bond. His feelings on this are pretty clear at this point too, and he really likes Vassa.

Other

We’ll have to deal with the Hewn City nobility coming to Velaris, meaning...meeting more of Mor’s family? Azriel’s family (which will be a given because we’re getting his POV anyway), and potential for new characters 

This comment from Rhys regarding the bargain to help Eris take the throne: “But I’d made a bargain with Eris too. Perhaps a fools bargain. But only time would tell in that regard”

The mysterious dark spot Mor saw in the forest on her way to her secret house. This might be something from Crescent City, or it’ll be part of the crossover. 

So much talk of Vallahan and the continent, we may spend some time there...with that King and Queen.. 

Bryaxis.

[someblueyearning]

Rambles about a Morgott x Tarnished Story Idea

Bruh has anyone used the Grace as like a Soulmate AU I’m pretty sure there is something out there like Morgott in particular.

The grace of the Golden Order pulls you towards your destiny the sites of grace vaguely showing you where to go. Like a soulmate can also be apart of it guiding you to places where they’ve been. Once heard from like a YouTube theory video that the Golden Order feeds off suffering of its believers make that fit in there somehow.

I’m thinking about writing a Morgott x Tarnished AU that deals with soulmates and a Time Loop.

That’s right I’m talking about a Slow Burn Enemies to Allies to Friends to Lovers type of beat. Put in a little angst in future timelines where the knowledge that the Tarnished accumulated in past timelines will make Morgott distrust the Tarnished immediately ending the relationship if they spill it out. Maybe title it “Same Old Mistakes” (if this is actually posted in the future guess this is a heads up)

It begins at the end where the Tarnished gets the regular ending and realized they’ve made a mistake. The shine in the sky is not the brilliant gold they’ve expected and having Queen Marika as their consort felt like they’ve made the wrong choice.

You see what happened when the Tarnished put Marika’s head back on her body the Golden Order gave the Tarnished a choice in their consort. Instead of immediately making Queen Marika their consort the Golden Order also suggested a demigod that was most compatible. The Tarnished hearing this gives into their curiosity and asks who this demigod was (the Tarnished did a speed run through the game trying to be Elden Lord as quickly as possible so they never truly explored the Lands Between nor done any side quests). In the golden particles of the Golden Order the form of Morgott takes shape taking the Tarnished by surprise. But because they really never got to learn much about the world nor why the Shattering happened they choose Queen Marika because that’s what they’ve been told they must do.

Queen Marika has not awoken from her slumber as the Tarnished sits on the throne regretting their decision looking upon the world they’ve been told they must now govern. Their mind wonders back to Margit/Morgott and how the Golden Order thought they were compatible. The Tarnished only seen Morgott as an enemy, a man who hindered their progress and actively hunted the Tarnished down. Who seemed to have a personal vendetta against the Tarnished for doing their duty. They think back Morgott’s last words. Pondering how true the words are.

How the time loop will appear?

When Queen Marika wakes the Tarnished so deep troubled on the throne they don’t notice her come up behind them until the blade is deep within their chest. Queen Marika says some speech akin to, “Foolish Tarnished who blindly follows orders. Loyal servant to the Golden Order I curse thee…” something something that they must die and start anew everytime they die until they find the path to their true destiny.

That’s right Queen Marika curses the Tarnished to a No Death run. They awake back at the beginning of the game. This is where the story truly begins.

The Tarnished now has a goal in mind, find out what they can about Margit the Fell Omen/Morgott the Grace-given. However for this very first time loop they take it slow and explore Limgrave etc. When they feel like they’ve done enough they go to meet Margit. Except they made a mistake when greeting the Fell Omen they accidentally call him “Morgott” which sends a golden blade their way and the Tarnished is immediately killed.

The Tarnished? Nameless Confessor Strength/Faith build. Weapon preference? Two halberds in each hand. Prefers to have no name because they have yet to find themselves. Most likely will be male. No true memories of the time before coming to the Lands Between. No real personality until they finally access their brain cell and not be a mindless drone.

Possible timeline plots:

- Officially the First: Tarnished will go around and actually learn the world (specifically Limgrave) and meet the npcs they’ve never met before and strike up an actual friendship with Melina (the only other person who knows they are stuck in a time loop). They accidentally call Margit, Morgott and immediately get killed

- “And They Were Bridgemates”: they decide to not fight Margit on the bridge for some reason Margit agrees to let them stay. Gets to see that Margit is not a man just full of hatred towards the Tarnished

- The Tarnished confused about their feelings decides they must fight Margit on the bridge and win. They follow grace and feel like they’ve been following the ghosts of a person. Learn the hard way about the Night’s Calvary. Finally make the connection between Margot’s vanishing words about be fearful of the night and the knights that have been hunting the Tarnished down.

- “Night Calvary Training Arc”: This time the Tarnished meets Margit on the bridge and asks to serve under “Margit the Fell Omen” maybe give some respectful praises and wishes to join the Night Calvary. Margit trains the Tarnished (this will be the meat and potatoes) Finally they will grow closer

I will not spoil the ending I plan for these two. Nor further vital timelines caused the Tarnished to go that path.