#green mountain campaign

[mavariel]

A couple of dnd characters for my upcoming campaign

[strathshepard]

Anugraha Natarajan photographed by Tyrone Lebon for Burberry fall 2023

[jenniferrobingallery]

'Greening up the Mountains' for RFK Jr

[prokopetz]

Ways your fortified points-of-light fantasy city with no discernible agricultural base supports itself that aren't "they eat the monsters":

There's no farmland spreading below the city's mountain fastness because all of the crops are above. Most of the mountain's surface area below the permanent snowline is taken up by a series of colossal hydroponic terraces fed by seasonal meltwater from the snow pack above. (Don't ask who built the terraces.)

The city's famed heaven-piercing towers are aviaries for millions upon untold millions of fruit and seed eating birds, which forage the surrounding countryside by day and roost there at night; their meat and eggs form the community's staple diet. In order to fend off ecological depletion, crack teams of combat-trained wilderness maintenance experts venture forth daily, escorting great cartloads of birdshit on targeted fertilising missions (though in truth they hardly need their swords, as the smell keeps the monsters at bay).

Those weird caverns that seem to be present under every random shed and outhouse are all connected. That's why the giant mutant rats in the basement of the local inn are such a big deal – they're not just annoying the guests, they're also obstructing the community's principal trade route!

For Reasons, the city's population is only about ten percent of its carrying capacity. The city's interior green spaces are presently sufficient for food production, and its citizens take turns dressing up as soldiers and manning the walls once a week to create the illusion of a robust military presence. Unfortunately, the ruse can't last forever, as they lack the manpower to maintain their crumbling infrastructure, nor will they be able to defend themselves when – not if, but when – the neighbouring city-states figure it out.

There's actually plenty of conventional farmland; it's just that the entire campaign takes place south of the city, and the farms are all to the north. Why don't the farms expand southward to claim the clearly arable land? Well, there's a funny story about that...

[lallelol]

✦ Cosmic Dread ✦

Requested by @livewire11211 for our campaign @tmnt4p !!! Thank you again 💜

Funky green channel, red-blue channel, and lines

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds. 

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding. 

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip. 

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head. 

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours. 

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands. 

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed. 

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness. 

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock. 

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind. 

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh. 

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline. 

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets. 

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated. 

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest. 

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair. 

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him. 

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom. 

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained. 

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind. 

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids. 

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count. 

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there. 

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep. 

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so. 

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes. 

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun. 

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings. 

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed. 

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels. 

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers. 

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him. 

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human. 

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers. 

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner. 

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest. 

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state. 

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster. 

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you. 

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad. 

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch. 

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you. 

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings. 

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.   

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker.  “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.  

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night. 

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening. 

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!” 

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm. 

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release. 

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.  

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.  

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer. 

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum. 

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin. 

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth.  “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

[whywontyoucomeout]

The Warrior at Rest

Kaira stood at the window of her modest stone cottage, one hand resting on the swell of her enormous belly as she gazed out at the rolling hills beyond. At nearly nine months pregnant, her once lean warrior's physique had transformed dramatically. Her belly protruded like a great round shield, stretching the fabric of her tunic taut.

Despite her current state, Kaira's piercing green eyes remained as sharp as ever, scanning the horizon with the keen awareness of a seasoned fighter. Her long red hair was pulled back in a practical braid, revealing a thin white scar that ran from her left temple to her jaw - a reminder of battles past.

Kaira sighed, feeling the restlessness that had plagued her these past months. She was unaccustomed to this sedentary life, this waiting. Her hands, calloused from years of wielding sword and spear, itched for the familiar weight of a weapon.

As she watched the distant hills, her mind drifted back to her years as the most feared warrior in the Five Kingdoms. They had called her "The Crimson Whirlwind" for the way she moved on the battlefield - a blur of flashing steel and flowing red hair. Kaira had led armies to victory against impossible odds, her tactical genius as renowned as her combat prowess.

She remembered the Battle of Blackmire Pass, where she had single-handedly held the narrow mountain path against a horde of invaders, buying time for reinforcements to arrive. For three days and nights she had fought, her twin swords singing as they cleaved through enemy after enemy. When the dust settled, over two hundred foes lay dead at her feet.

Kaira's hand absently moved to her swollen belly as the baby within gave a strong kick. She smiled, imagining the child would be as fierce a fighter as its parents. Her husband Torin was nearly her equal in combat skill, though he preferred the great axe to her favored swords.

A pang of worry shot through her as she thought of Torin, out there now leading their forces against the Shadowmere invasion. This was the first campaign she had not fought by his side in over a decade. Part of her ached to be there with him, to feel the thrill of battle once more.

But Kaira knew her current battle was here - bringing new life into the world. She rubbed her aching back, feeling the weight of her enormous belly. The village midwife had remarked that she had never seen such a large pregnancy, joking that Kaira must be carrying twins or even triplets. Kaira wasn't so sure - she felt in her bones that it was one child, but a strong one.

As the sun began to set, painting the hills in shades of gold and crimson, Kaira's thoughts turned to the uncertain future. Would she be able to return to the battlefield once the child was born? Or would motherhood change her in ways she couldn't yet fathom?

One thing was certain - warrior or mother, Kaira would face whatever challenges lay ahead with the same courage and determination that had made her a legend. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she had done countless times before charging into battle. Whatever came next, she would be ready.

—————————-

As twilight descended, a frantic pounding at the door shattered Kaira's contemplative silence. Her heart clenched as she opened it to find a breathless messenger, his face etched with grim news.

"My lady," he gasped, "the battle goes ill. Lord Torin... he's been gravely wounded. The enemy advances."

Kaira's world tilted on its axis. Without a word, she strode to the back of the cottage where her armor hung. Custom-made to accommodate her pregnancy, the breastplate was a masterwork of overlapping plates and supple leather. Yet as she donned it, Kaira found even this ingenious design strained against her enormous belly.

Ignoring the discomfort, she cinched the straps as tight as she dared. The pressure was intense, but bearable. Kaira gritted her teeth, her warrior's discipline overriding the protests of her body. She seized her twin swords, their familiar weight a grim comfort.

"Prepare my horse," she commanded the stunned messenger.

The ride to the battlefield was a blur of pain and determination. Each gallop sent shockwaves through Kaira's distended abdomen, the baby within kicking furiously. But Kaira's focus was singular: reach Torin, turn the tide of battle.

As she crested the final hill, the scene before her stole the breath from her lungs. The field was a chaos of clashing steel and fallen bodies. And there, at the center of it all, lay a familiar figure in blood-stained armor.

"No!" The cry tore from Kaira's throat as she spurred her mount forward. But even as she fought her way through the melee, she knew she was too late. Torin's eyes, once so full of life and love, stared sightlessly at the darkening sky.

Something snapped within Kaira. The grief, the rage, the primal protective instinct of impending motherhood - it all coalesced into a berserker fury unlike anything she had ever experienced. She became the Crimson Whirlwind once more, but this time there was no grace, no artistry to her movements. Only raw, devastating power.

Her swords flashed like lightning, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy ranks. Soldiers fell before her like wheat before the scythe. Those who saw her coming - this impossibly pregnant warrior dealing death with inhuman speed and strength - fled in terror.

Hours passed in a red haze. Kaira fought until her arms burned and her lungs heaved. She fought until the ground grew slick with blood and the air thick with the stench of death. She fought until, at last, only one enemy remained standing.

The Shadowmere commander stood before her, his black armor splattered with gore. Even through his helm, Kaira could sense his disbelief at the carnage she had wrought.

"Demon," he hissed, raising his mace. "What manner of creature are you?"

Kaira said nothing. Words were beyond her now. There was only the pounding of her heart, the weight of her unborn child, and the burning need for vengeance. She raised her swords, their edges notched and dripping, and prepared for one final battle.

The commander charged with a roar, his mace whistling through the air. Kaira met his assault head-on, her twin blades a whirlwind of steel. They clashed in a furious exchange, neither giving ground.

But Kaira's rage was a bottomless well, fueling her beyond the limits of normal endurance. With a cry that seemed to shake the very heavens, she battered through the commander's guard. Her left sword knocked his mace aside; her right plunged deep into his chest.

————-

As her foe crumpled to his knees, Kaira stood over him, her sword point resting at his throat. The Shadowmere commander's eyes widened with fear as he stared up at her, his helm having been knocked away in their fierce duel.

"You took everything from me," Kaira growled, her voice raw with emotion. "My husband, my child's father, the future we were meant to share."

The commander swallowed hard, feeling the cold steel against his skin. "Please," he begged, his earlier bravado evaporating in the face of death. "Mercy! I have a family too—"

"As did every soldier you sent to their deaths," Kaira cut him off, her green eyes blazing with contempt. "As did my husband."

She drew back her sword, preparing for the final blow. But just as she tensed to strike, a searing pain ripped through her abdomen. Kaira gasped, nearly dropping her weapon as she realized what was happening. The baby was coming.

The commander, seeing her momentary weakness, lunged forward with desperate speed. His hand grasped for the dagger at his belt, a last attempt to turn the tables.

But even in the grips of labor, Kaira's warrior instincts didn't falter. With a cry of pain and rage, she brought her sword down in a swift, decisive arc. The blade met flesh and bone, and the commander's reaching hand fell limp to the blood-soaked earth, followed quickly by his lifeless body.

Kaira staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She dropped to her knees, one hand clutching her belly as another contraction seized her. The battle was won, her vengeance complete, but a new struggle was just beginning.

As she knelt there on the battlefield, surrounded by the aftermath of carnage, Kaira felt a fierce kick from within her womb. Even now, her child fought alongside her. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand despite the pain.

"We'll face this world together, little one," she whispered, beginning the arduous journey back to her village. "Your father's spirit lives on in us both."

With each agonizing step, Kaira left behind the Crimson Whirlwind and moved toward her new role as the Warrior Mother. The legend of her final battle would be told for generations, but the true test of her strength was yet to come.

———————

Kaira stumbled through the twilight, one hand on her sword hilt, the other supporting her enormous belly. Each contraction brought her to her knees, the pain far surpassing any battlefield wound she'd ever endured. As darkness fell, she spotted a cave in a nearby hillside and made for it with grim determination.

Once inside, Kaira began the laborious process of removing her armor. As the custom breastplate came free, her belly seemed to expand even further, no longer constrained. She marveled at its size, her skin stretched taut over the massive dome.

"By the gods," she muttered, "no wonder the midwife thought there might be twins."

Another contraction hit, and Kaira braced herself against the cave wall. She knew the basics of childbirth from the village women, but experiencing it was another matter entirely. Gritting her teeth, she lowered herself to the ground and spread her legs as wide as she could manage.

Hours passed in a haze of pain and effort. Kaira pushed with all her might, feeling the baby's head begin to emerge, only to have it slip back when she paused to catch her breath. It was maddening – like siege warfare, gaining ground only to lose it again.

"Come on, little warrior," she growled, her voice echoing in the cave. "Fight your way out, as your father and I would do."

Kaira lost track of time, her world narrowing to the rhythm of contractions and the burning sensation between her legs. She'd faced down armies without flinching, but this battle tested her limits like no other.

Just when she felt she could endure no more, a final, explosive contraction seized her. Kaira bore down with every ounce of strength left in her body, unleashing a primal scream that seemed to shake the very walls of the cave.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The cave filled with a new sound – the lusty wail of a newborn taking its first breath.

Exhausted beyond measure, Kaira reached down and pulled the squirming, slippery infant to her chest. As she gazed upon her child's face, she felt a love fiercer than any she'd known before.

"Welcome to the world, my little fighter," she whispered, tears mixing with sweat on her cheeks. "Your father would be so proud."

As the newborn's cries softened to contented gurgles, Kaira allowed herself a moment of peace. The battle was won, a new life brought forth against impossible odds. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she would face them with the same courage and determination that had seen her through this day.

Outside the cave, the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon. For Kaira and her child, it was the dawning of a new era – one that promised both great hardship and profound love.

——————————

As Kaira cradled her newborn, a fresh wave of pain gripped her. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"By the gods," she gasped, "there's another!"

The realization hit her: the midwife's jest about twins had been prophetic. Kaira's relief at delivering her first child quickly gave way to apprehension. She was already exhausted, her strength nearly spent.

With trembling arms, she gently placed her firstborn on a bed of soft leaves before repositioning herself. Instinct told her to get on her hands and knees. She began to rock back and forth, trying to ease the second baby into position.

This labor seemed even more arduous than the first. Kaira pushed with all her might, but progress was agonizingly slow. The baby seemed stuck, refusing to budge despite her efforts.

In all her years as a warrior, through countless battles and wars, Kaira had never felt as vulnerable as she did now. She, who had faced down armies and monsters, found herself at the mercy of her own body and this stubborn child within.

"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse and desperate. It was strange to hear herself beg, but pride had no place in this primal struggle. "Please, little one, come out. Fight your way through, as your father would."

Hours passed, marked only by Kaira's labored breathing and occasional cries of pain. She pushed until she thought she could push no more, then somehow found the strength to continue.

Just when she was on the verge of despair, she felt a shift. With a final, monumental effort, Kaira bore down. A scream tore from her throat, echoing through the cave and startling her firstborn into wailing.

And then, at last, it was over. The second twin slipped into the world, adding its cries to its sibling's.

Kaira collapsed onto her side, utterly spent. With shaking hands, she gathered both infants to her chest, marveling at their tiny, perfect forms.

"Welcome, my little warriors," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You've proven yourselves fighters already."

As she lay there, her newborns nestled against her, Kaira felt a complex mix of emotions. Grief for Torin, who would never know his children. Pride in her own strength and that of her babies. And a fierce, protective love that overshadowed everything else.

The sun had fully risen now, its light reaching into the cave. Kaira knew the challenges ahead would be enormous – raising twins alone, rebuilding her life after the war. But as she looked at her children, she felt a renewed sense of purpose.

"We three are a family now," she told them softly. "And together, we can face anything."

[choke-me-joey]

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, violence, smut.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 2

It had been 3 weeks since you had gone to your first Hellfire Club meeting, and 3 weeks since Eddie had fallen head over fucking heels for you.

He'd liked you before sure, a harmless crush, but now he knew you were into good music and his favourite fantasy game? Consider him a truly smitten kitten.

And now, when you turn up to school in a Hellfire shirt, ripped jeans and that fucking jacket, Eddie could have kissed you right then and there in Ms O'Donnell's class.

"Hey," you grin as you take your usual seat next to him, sliding him a brown paper bag over to him. "So it turns out that Mountain Dew, cigarettes and Cheetos aren't a substantial diet, so I accidentally on purpose made extra chicken salad today. Figured you'd need some more sustenance y'know, got a feeling tonight's session is going to be killer."

"Hey, I eat other stuff too."

"Twinkies and coffee also don't have fantastic nutritional value, Munson." You tease, rolling your eyes. "Ever heard of a vegetable? Y'know, the healthy green stuff?"

"Oh, I'm into the green stuff alright." Eddie grins, eluding to his precious stash. You give him an exasperated look. "I'm kidding. Thanks. And the uh, the shirt looks good."

"Thanks," you smile, tucking some hair behind your ear. Were you...blushing?? "So, um, I was wondering-"

"Miss Y/L/N, is there something that you need from Mr Munson right this very second?" Ms O'Donnell glares at the pair of you.

"I mean, I guess it could wait, 5, maybe 10 minutes?" You quip, making Eddie chuckle. The old bat doesn't seem to be in as bad a mood as usual today, so somehow you narrowly escape detention but earn yourself an extra 5 chapters on the reading for over the weekend.

Later on, when Eddie is diving in to the fucking delightful chicken salad, the Hellfire Club, minus you as unfortunately you had yet to be released from the grip of the cheerleading table, don't miss the unusually nutritious food their glorious leader is consuming.

"Jesus, Eddie, is that an actual sandwich you're eating?" Gareth teases, for which he gets a mini pretzel to the face.

"Is that what Y/N gave you in English this morning?" Jeff smirked and Eddie rolled his eyes. "It is! She's making food for you?! Damn, when's the wedding?"

Eddie shot him a warning glare and it was clear that this was not a topic to be joked about.

"Jesus." Jeff grumbled, shrinking back in his seat.

"I still can't believe we have a cheerleader in Hellfire," grinned the Henderson kid, clearly loving the events of the last 2 weeks a little too much. The heart eyes the little nerd made at you each week over the table during campaigns was almost laughable.

"She's not just a cheerleader, Henderson," Eddie mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich. Because you weren't. You were a pretty cool person, who liked kick ass music and liked fantasy games, but who could also get her leg above her head, not that Eddie had been thinking about that very much at all-

"Hey, Eddie! Hi guys!" Your voice snaps Eddie out of his rapidly approaching dangerous thoughts and he realises you're stood next to him, your perfume wafting over and Eddie kind of wants to just inhale you.

The rest of the table greets you and then go back to their conversations, mostly about band practice, AV club or possible new campaign ideas. Eddie turns to look at you, smiling.

"What's up?"

"So, I was trying to say before we got interrupted earlier, I was wondering if you're going to be going to Jason's party tonight?" You smile, a hopeful look on your face. Eddie raises his eyebrows.

"Uh, gee, my invite must have gotten lost in the mail," he grins. Like he was getting an invite to that douche fest. It would be the last place on earth he'd ever be caught-

You laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm inviting you verbally then, huh?"

"Wait, wait, wait. You want me to come?" Eddie's eyes were practically like saucers now. Was he definitely hearing this right?!

"Of course! I mean you don't have to if you don't want to, I just figured you'd probably get a few extra customers there and I don't wanna be stuck by myself all night. These things get kinda boring when you don't have someone to distract you from the god awful music." You shrug, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

Goddamn you were too cute.

Eddie sighs. If he was going to suffer through this, at least he could make some extra cash.

And be with you.

"Fuck it, yeah, I'll come."

"Awesome! Pick me up at 7.30?" You hand him a scrap of paper with your address on it. He frowns at it.

"Pick you up? Like a-"

"Like a date, if you want?" Your tone was hopeful, eager, and the biggest shocker was that you were completely serious. You weren't joking. You were actually asking him out. Eddie cleared his throat.

"Shouldn't this, uh, be the other way around?" He gestured between you both, and you shrug.

"I got tired of waiting. So, are we on?"

"It's a date, sweetheart."

***

At 7.30 on the dot, Eddie is waiting outside your house in his van, anxiously checking his own breath again. He was pretty pleased with how he looked tonight, his usual ratty band shirts or Hellfire shirt replaced with simple black tshirt and jeans without holes in, a red plaid shirt and his trusty leather jacket. His hair wasn't too unruly either, which made a nice change, and he was freshly showered and shaved.

Wayne had caught him dabbing aftershave on in the tiny trailer bathroom, hissing at the sting, and thanked whoever was sat on their asses in the sky that his nephew had finally found a date that wasn't a six-pack and a large pizza.

You stepped out of your front door and Eddie just about passed away. You were wearing a simple, short and sleevless black dress, one that clung to you in all the right places, with a chunky belt around your middle. Your legs were bare right down to your Dr Martens. You looked...ethereal. Breath taking.

Your face lit up the moment you locked eyes with Eddie and you walked up to the driver's side window.

"Hey, handsome. We match." You grin, gesturing to your predominantly black outfits.

"That we do," Eddie chuckled, pretending his cheeks weren't warming at you calling him handsome. "Ready to go, cutie?"

Well, if you could call him names...

He definitely noticed your cheeks flushing at that.

The drive to the party was a relatively short one, you and Eddie discussing your favourite Black Sabbath tracks, and whether you think Ozzy really did bite the head off of that bat.

"Bats are so cute! It had to be fake, there's no way." You'd said, a little pout on your face as you talked about it.

"Oh it was real, the way it bled and shit?? There's no way that could be faked." Eddie chuckled. "So fucking metal."

"So fucking gross, what if he got rabies?!" You laugh, sticking your tongue out in disgust. "You know, this isn't good first date conversation."

"It isn't? Damn, I must be a little rusty from the non-existent dating life I have." Eddie smirked. "You have better conversations with uh, whats his name, Anderson??"

The way you frown at him makes Eddie think that maybe that was a bit of a low blow, past the playful bantering and bordering on a little mean.

"I never dated that asshole. And I never fucked him either." You growl. "He's such a prick, as if I'd ever touch him or his warty dick."

Eddie bursts out laughing. "Warty dick?!"

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. "He got genital warts from hooking up with some girl from out of state one time. Didn't use a rubber so I guess that's what you get. Plus he's a massive asshole, so he deserves it."

Eddie nods in agreement.

"You know him and his massive asshole buddies are going to be there tonight, right?" He says, leaning forward to check the traffic at the junction he'd pulled up to. You sigh.

"I know, again, that's why I invited you. So I have someone to talk to other than Chrissy or Tammy or Ashley about their upcoming dates or our next competition. I just wanna relax and have fun with a cute guy who wants to actually get to know me, not my pussy."

"You think I'm cute?" Eddie slyly grins and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Don't let it go to your head, Munson."

"Which one?" He jokes and you smack him lightly, laughing hard.

***

A few hours later, you're already a few drinks in, blissfully tipsy. Eddie has had maybe one or two piss weak beers, wanting to stay relatively sober to drive you home and to stay on top of his selling game. Although he'd already made bank within the first hour of the party, so now his main concern was you.

Eddie didn't really know what to do with himself; 99% of the people here hated him and avoided him like the plague. So he was happy just to sit on one of the chairs outside with you as you both smoked, happily chatting and getting to know each other better.

He'd not missed how you'd scooted your chair closer to him, or how occasionally your hand would rest on his arm. You'd not missed how he'd lean into you, or brush his hand over your knee or thigh when he was reaching for something.

Your brain swirled in the best way when Eddie took your hand and helped you up so you could both go and get another drink from the kitchen. He went to pull away after you were on your feet, but you linked your fingers through his and led him inside, pushing through the crowd to reach the drinks.

"I gotta piss," Eddie shouted over the thumping music, giving your hand a squeeze to wordlessly let you know he'd be back. You nodded, grabbing another cup and looking around for the bottle you had been nursing the entire night.

"Wow, Y/N, you fucking the freak now? Made your way through the football, basketball and baseball teams and needed a new challenge?" Anderson's ribbing voice floats over the loud music and you bristle, but ignore him. "Aw, what's wrong baby? Did I touch a nerve?"

"Fuck you Anderson. Take your micro dick and go bother someone else." You snap, finishing mixing your drink and attempting to leave the kitchen. Anderson scoffs, trapping you against the counter with his hefty quarterback frame, his alcohol soaked breath fanning over you making you want to gag.

"You look sexy tonight, Y/N, s'like you're begging to be fucked. You know that freak Munson couldn't do half the shit I could do to you," Anderson slurs and you shudder in disgust.

"What's that? Last 20 seconds and pretend like you rocked my world? I told you once and I'll tell you again, I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last creature on earth, Anderson. Fuck. Off." You growl, pushing against him but he doesn't move. He smirks, shoving his hand up your skirt. Your reflexes kick in and you drive your knee up, straight into his crotch as hard as you can. When he staggers backwards clutching his groin, you punch him square between the eyes and hear the sickening sound of bones crunching. The pain that shoots through your hand is quickly dulled by adrenaline as Anderson stumbles backwards onto the floor, blood pouring from his nose. The entire party is silent, save for the music which is still playing.

Eddie pushes his way into the kitchen after returning from the bathroom, and his mouth falls open at the scene in front of him. You, panting with fury, skirt pushed up pretty much to your crotch, fist covered in blood, and Anderson crumpled on the floor, blood pissing out of his nose and groaning in pain. Two of the other football players pick him up, staring at you in shock.

"She's a fucking psycho!" Anderson yells, his voice thick with blood. "See what happens when she starts hanging around with that fucking freak?!"

Eddie blinks and you let out a scream of rage, diving for Anderson again. Eddie is quick to grab you, restraining your arms behind your back as you struggle to get at Anderson.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, alright? It's not worth it," Eddie says, soothing and low in your ear. "Come on, let's go."

"If you ever touch me again, Anderson, I'll cut your dick off!" You growl, still struggling against Eddie's grip as he practically picks you up and carries you out of the house towards his van.

"Eddie, that motherfucker, he-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know." Again with the soothing tone. Eddie pretty much carries you to his van and puts you in the passenger seat, buckling you in. He notices your slight shiver and takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Eddie gets in and starts to drive.

"Your hand okay?" He asks gently, and you nod. He sneaks a glance at it, already bruised and covered in blood. "Y/N."

"It hurts," you sniff, your tough exterior cracking. "Fucker has a hard face."

Eddie laughs and you shoot him a look. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, just wish I'd have been there to see you throw the punch."

"And the knee to the balls," you smirk, and Eddie winces slightly, knowing how bad it must have hurt.

"Jesus, Y/N. What did he do?" Although Eddie had a sneaking suspicion judging by the way your skirt had been pushed up practically around your waist when he came back from the bathroom.

"Aside from trying to shove his hands into my underwear, tried to tell me he could..." you trail off, not wanting to say it for fear of scaring Eddie off, or weirding him out.

"He could...?" Eddie probed. You sighed, looking out of the window as you spoke.

"Pretty much that he could fuck me better than you ever could." You said quickly, your cheeks once again flushing scarlet. Eddie went silent, swallowing hard. "He's just an asshole, I don't care what he says about me, but when he brought you into it, I-"

"Had to defend my honour?" Smirking, Eddie looks at you. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm glad you beat the shit out of him, he's a fucking bitch and deserved it but you didn't have to do it for me."

"I know." You answer and the conversation falls into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"And I could definitely fuck you better than he ever could." Eddie states, making you burst out laughing.

"Renember earlier how I said dont let it go to your head? That's the kind of shit I meant. No more compliments for you, mister."

Taglist: @big-ope-vibes

@50shadesofuncomfortable

@bibieddiesgf

@josephquinngirly

@mich-13

@wintersoldierbaby

@gracieluvthemoon

@lilmisssimp

@cutiecusp

@lovelylittlemetalhead

@angelina16torres-blog

@ceriseheaven

@icallhimjoey

@harrys-four-nipples

@chaoticgood-munson

@quinnypixie

@joesquinns

@quinnsbower

@ghostinthebackofyourhead

@joejoequinnquinn

@ches-86

@mystars123

[intheholler]

Donations for Appalachian/Southeast USA Queer Organizations

Here lies the sister post to my resource list.

Under the cut, you'll find a list of regional, primarily queer-focused groups to donate to, if you have the means.

If you've ever accused us of being beyond help, or have ever said we should be sawed off into the ocean, here's your chance to help the many helpers trying to make the southeast a better place--those that always go conveniently ignored in such conversations.

General Regional Links

Appalachian Outreach

STAY (Central Appalachia)

Help suspected transgender John and Jane Does regain their identities

Southern Trans Youth Emergency Project (STYEP)

Southerners on New Ground (SONG)

Campaign for Southern Equality

Trans Health Project

Alabama

AIDS Alabama

The Knights & Orchids Society

Magic City Acceptance Center

Medical Advocacy and Outreach

Prism United

Shoals Diversity Center

T.A.K.E.

Thrive Alabama

Georgia

Carrollton Rainbow Inc.

Emmaus House

Feminist Women’s Health Center

First City Network

Georgia Equality

Kentucky

AIDS Volunteers of Lexington

Arbor Youth Services

Lexington Pride Center

Louisville Queer Youth

Louisville Youth Group

Kentucky Fairness

Kentucky Health Justice Network

Kentucky Youth Law Project

Sweet Evening Breeze

Louisiana

AcadianaCares

Louisiana Trans Advocates

OUTnorthla

PACE Louisiana

Shrevepride

Mississippi

Capital City Pride

Gulf Coast Equality

LGBTQ Fund of Mississippi

The Spectrum Center in Hattiesburg

Violet Valley Bookstore

North Carolina

Charlotte Transgender Healthcare Group (CTHCG)

Down Home NC

Guilford Green Foundation & LGBTQ Center

Pitt County Aids Service Organization

Tranzmission

Triad Health Project

Triangle Empowerment Center

South Carolina

Alliance for Full Acceptance

Charleston Black Pride

Harriet Hancock Center

Palmetto Community Care

T-Time

Uplift Outreach

We are Family

We are Family Trans Love Fund

Tennessee

CHOICES

Launch Pad

Metamorphosis

Mountain Access Brigade

My Sistah’s House

Pride Community of the Tri-Cities

Trans Empowerment Project

Youth Villages

Virginia

Justice 4 All

Nationz

Side by Side VA

Virginia Home for Boys and Girls

West Virginia

Harmony House West Virginia

Fairness West Virginia

Holler Health Justice

WVFREE

[stone-stars]

so… i made a list of the first use of every song* in campaign 1 of naddpod, with timestamps. if you're wondering, it's 190 unique songs! * disclaimer: this list doesn't include royalty free songs, only emily's, and it's entirely possible i missed one or two.

i've put the list under the cut, separated by episode! timestamps include ads for eps 1-48, and are from the ad free version for eps 49-100.

(disclaimer that i determined the names of songs by cross-referencing what they were credited as across episodes, so some may be inaccurate. i noted those down in the list)

13 - City in the Clouds, 18:04 13 - Beverly's House, 38:15 13 - The Widow, 53:56

14 - Court of the Boy King, 18:57 14 - The Twinkling Lights of Galaderon, 1:24:27

15 - A Bastard No More, 24:29 * 15 - The Ruins of Cragwater, 2:04:02 * (note: "A Bastard No More" is called "Hardwon Takes the Wheel" after c1e70)

16 - Duergar Drudgery, 4:26 16 - Spooky Shafts, 6:23 16 - Heed the Mushroom's Call, 21:10 16 - Schubert's Song, 25:47 16 - Jolene the Green, 31:30 16 - Farewell to Fungen, 34:39 16 - The Mithril Miner's Shuffle, 38:57 16 - The Mithril's Run Dry, 52:46

17 - The Depths of the Dungeon, 1:11:14 17 - Conspiracy in the Clouds, 1:14:23

18 - The Revenant's Fate, 24:35 18 - A Fate Refused, 25:59 18 - Escape the Boy King's Brunch, 1:31:31

19 - The Purge, 12:13 19 - The Valiant Ol' Cobb, 51:37 19 - At the Last Minute, a First, 1:29:29 19 - Skybound, 1:32:28

20 - The Blows of a Friend, And Not a Foe, 1:03:09 20 - Forsaken, 1:07:20 20 - Apotheosis, 1:08:23 20 - A Haven Away From Home, 1:12:17

21 - Betrayal Below, 19:10 21 - The Gunslinger's Girl, 39:10 21 - A Sign from Melora, 1:04:57 21 - Friend Turned Foe, 1:06:02 21 - Sumpin's a Mess Out West, 1:39:31

22 - Slumber in the Stump, 45:03 22 - The Sultan of Stone, 1:41:25 22 - Block Hop, 1:42:37

23 - The Mountain Meets the Sky, 42:33 23 - Trust the Gust, 1:01:00 23 - The Titan of Air, 1:12:09

24 - Sumpin's Asunder Down Under, 37:53 24 - Baptised, 43:39 24 - Steed of the Sea, 51:12 24 - Cetacean Farewell, 1:13:37 24 - Into the Flame, 1:16:25

25 - The Golden Sword, 55:14 25 - Cured by the Light, 1:00:21 25 - Hospitably Hostile, 1:05:28 25 - Mee Maw's Burden, 1:21:18

26 - The Grand Maw Tree, 9:51 26 - Into the Fog, 55:16 26 - A Hospitable Farewell, 1:01:11 26 - Befuddled and Befogged, 1:05:19 26 - Hazy Daze, 1:09:59

27 - Snake Skirmish, 4:38 27 - Greener Shades, 1:10:49 27 - Moonshine's Stump, 1:14:50 27 - Unknown Tome, 1:27:06

28 - Balnor's Bad Dream, 28:01 28 - Blessings of the Elementals, 1:14:35 * 28 - Elemental Energy, 1:17:39 * * (note: the two songs credited here are actually "Elemental Energy" and "Calling in a Favor", so the second song may be either name)

29 - The Prodigal Sister, 58:37 29 - A Rare Appearance, 1:01:26 29 - Oh, Melora!, 1:02:53 29 - A Tale's End, 1:08:30

31 - A Giant Among Men, 17:47 31 - Back Against the Wall, 28:04

32 - Behold! Treasure, 10:31 32 - Akarot's Letter, 23:50 32 - Shock at the Dock, 37:25 32 - Invisible But Not Invincible, 43:48 32 - Escape from Smuggler's Bounty, 48:56

33 - Tonathan Tinkle, 6:51 33 - Uku's Gift, 1:20:31

34 - Frostwind, 37:04 34 - A Humble Shopkeeper, 47:08 34 - Vinril's Gems, 1:05:26

35 - Balnor the Brave, 1:08:16

37 - Descending, 20:58 37 - A Tempting Offer, 41:40 37 - Desecrated, 51:28

39 - Incriminated, 33:37

41 - Tower of the Winter Wolves, 20:35 41 - Tundra Trudge, 1:26:39 41 - Valley of the Frigid Death, 1:20:03 * * (note: this song is used in ep 38 at 53:45, but not credited)

42 - Prey Don't Stand a Prayer, 42:37 * 42 - Yanoba, 1:10:39 * (note: this song is also used in ep 38 at 1:07:13, but not credited)

45 - The Eye of Akarot, 14:33 45 - Bash at the Gash, 34:43 45 - The Bronzebeard Legacy, 45:15 45 - Kingshammer, 1:45:59 45 - A Sight For Sore Eyes, 1:49:15

46 - Fantastic & Fuddling, 40:32 * 46 - A Soft Landing, 57:53 * 46 - A Humble Farmer, 1:07:22 * 46 - The Court of the Bear Prince, 1:18:46 46 - Wooded Wonders, 1:45:23 * * (note: the four starred songs names are inconsistently used. I tried to go with the names they're most often known by across this arc and other campaigns but it changes. The big thing here is that the song at 1:07:22 is not called “A Humble Farmer” again, but when it’s used later in c1 it’s credited as “Wooded Wonders”, and then in c2/3 it’s “Fantastic & Fuddling”. However, both of those names are more consistently used for the songs I have them labeled as now. The song at 40:32 is called “Fantastic & Fuddling” throughout the Feywild arc, and the song at 1:45:23 is called “Wooded Wonders” in every campaign except HBS, where it’s “A Humble Farmer” Basically— “Fantastic & Fuddling” means the song at 40:32 and “Wooded Wonders” usually means the song at 1:45:23, but this isn’t always the case, and the song at 1:07:22 may be called either.)

47 - Puzzled, 8:40 47 - Mysterious Yet Familiar, 1:08:07 47 - Queen Cirilla, 1:14:02 47 - Frozen in Time, 1:16:35

49 - Gnome Man's Land, 1:03:54

50 - Rolling Deep, 13:10 50 - Neath a Ceiling of Stars, 30:36 50 - Sea Beast, 53:38 50 - Great Crone of the Sea, 1:11:05

51 - Alanis, 3:34 51 - The Nannerfly Effect, 14:35 * 51 - When You Wish Upon A Stone, 20:26 51 - Only the Ocean to Console Him, 45:27 * (note: throughout the Feywild, this song is called “The Nannerfly Effect”, and then later goes on to be credited as various versions of "wish stones")

54 - The Autumn Court, 3:35

55 - The Witch's Den, 58:57

56 - An Innocent Flirtation, 48:02 56 - Goblin Dirigible, 1:04:27 56 - Crash Landing, 1:15:21

57 - Tower in the Distance, 13:18 57 - Angels and Devils, 16:58 57 - King Lestibourne, 1:02:39 57 - All I Need is One Thread to Spin a Web, 1:09:20 57 - Kiss of Life, 1:45:12

58 - Flying Through the Night, 25:18 58 - Bittersweet Sixteen, 59:34 58 - A Hard Goodbye, 1:26:52

59 - Shadowfell, 2:49 59 - Into the Mist, 5:34 59 - Grimhawk, 53:33 59 - Langston, 1:05:56

60 - Deadeye, 6:30 60 - The Fat Monk, 25:13

61 - The Red Fen, 20:54 61 - The Montgomerys, 40:11 61 - Growing Pains, 1:16:21 * 61 - Gutless, 1:29:37 * (note: “Growing Pains” is credited as “Drained” here, but the name changes later and is used consistently)

63 - Montgomery Manor, 1:14:22 63 - Shadowfell Sneak, 1:17:34 63 - Two for Tea, 1:21:08

66 - Unholy Pilgrimage, 22:22

67 - Bastard's Fate, 1:22:05 67 - Bastard's Cove, 1:30:06

70 - Lucanus Aer'Tea, 1:27:08 70 - A Miracle Child, 1:44:43 70 - The Thinking Cap, 1:49:53

71 - The Whisperwood, 27:30 71 - Gladeholm, 29:41 71 - The University, 56:36 71 - Qwiksus, 1:10:04 71 - A Wizard Tournament, 1:30:24 71 - Star Spawn, 2:10:23

73 - Summoning, 11:28 73 - Secret Basement, 32:21 73 - The Objective, 1:31:50 73 - Pandemonium, 1:34:22 73 - Lilith La Trix, 1:37:55

75 - Kingsguard, 22:17 75 - Speaking Stump, 27:19 75 - Irondeep, 1:18:40 - (note: these three songs are only used in this ep in c1)

76 - The Mindflayer's Lair, 59:48 76 - The Multiverse, 1:13:57 76 - Alone, 1:19:50 76 - The Vast Expanse, 1:22:21 76 - Into the Planar Pool, 1:27:28

77 - Deal with a Devil, 21:42 * 77 - Buzzer's Cutters, 25:28 77 - The Posse, 1:07:48 77 - The Bronze Bastard, 1:35:51 * (note: this song is also frequently called “Soul Coins”)

79 - Lust, 14:52 79 - The River Styx, 24:46 79 - Fierna, 32:36 79 - A Risky Gamble, 51:42 79 - The Honey Trap, 55:40

82 - The Seventh Circle of Hell, 14:58 82 - Demigod, 28:55

83 - Ilsed's Secret, 42:05

84 - Hellfire Crown, 1:26:11 86 - Torn Apart, 46:42 * * (note: technically "Torn Apart" is a part of “Hellfire Crown” and plays in ep 84 at 1:17:32, but the two have different instrumentation and “Torn Apart” is credited as such later, so I've split them)

91 - I Just Want to Know You're Taken Care Of, 21:37 91 - The Pact, 47:25 91 - Forest, 1:07:14

92 - Enlightened, 15:26 * * (note: this song isn't credited in this ep, its first credit as "Enlightened" is in ep96 at 36:47)

95 - Hole in the Sky, 1:01:12 95 - Pure Gold, 1:34:39

96 - The Glittering Lady, 15:51

97 - Fabric of Fate, 9:44 * 97 - Selfless, 12:48 97 - A Glittering Reunion, 22:18 * (note: this song is later called "Melora's Boon" in c3)

100 (pt. 1) - The Writing on the Wall, 28:55 100 (pt. 1) - Paradise, 46:04 100 (pt. 1) - A Memory, 1:03:17 100 (pt. 2) - One Big Bed, 1:46:57

[encyclopediacr]

Last month at the wiki — May 2024

On the first Wednesday of every month (or, best we can to it), we highlight significant work done in the previous month by our editing community at Encyclopedia Exandria.

As always, we start with a selection of articles created in the highlighted month. You can find more at the 50 newest pages report.

Rimecleft, mountain in Issylra featured in The Legend of Vox Machina

Ted 2, Opal's spider familiar

The Highest Light, city in Midst

Yore Mirror, magical item used by the Unseelie Court

Exandrian Accord, coalition opposing the Ruby Vanguard

The Menagerie (adventuring party), of the Daggerheart one-shots

Hieronymous Loxlee, character in Midst

Live shows, episodes performed before an in-person audience

Phoenix, elemental

Weapons of the Spectral Hand, group of legendary magical items

It's been a busy month in May just keeping up with the programming schedule, which has been getting quite lengthy these days! You can always check out what's coming up in the schedule in our upcoming events article.

We've added The Re-Slayer's Take to our routine coverage, with individual articles for each episode. You can explore the topic area starting with our category for the series. In accordance with our spoiler policy, we update as episodes hit the public feed.

The new Critical Role Abridged also provides us with illustrations for many characters, creatures, and objects! As Encyclopedia Exandria has chosen to use only official art—that is, art that is commissioned by the production—this gives us opportunity to finally have images on many of our articles, like Cyrus Wyvernwind and Green Seekers. On the subject of images, many images from The World Of Critical Role have also been added to the wiki to grace our articles, like Sorrowsworn.

Beacon's launch also gave us arcs for Campaign 3: Bells Hells! This allows us to (finally) organize our episode list into narrative arcs rather than in chunks of 25 episode, and it gives us the ability to organize character articles in this way as well.

[eddiemunsonmash]

part one: Baby You’re a Haunted House

summary: In the summer of 1985, your life is turned upside down when your family moves into the newly renovated Creel House in Hawkins, Indiana.

warnings: foul language, marijuana use | WC: 1052

“You can’t use the basement today! I told you I was going to paint down here,” you exclaimed, squeezing past the mountain of boxes that leaned against the wall. They jutted into the so-called “living space,” which was a sad mixture of a battered coffee table, a peeling chair, and a mildewed couch, all framed by the shabby wood paneling that seemed to be shedding its own skin. The only splash of color in the dreary room came from the gaudy green and yellow Hawkins High cheer uniform, proudly hanging from the rod above the dryer.

“I get it,” Riley said, adjusting the coffee table just a smidge to the right. He stepped back, eyeing his handiwork. “But this is my ticket in. If I host the campaign here, I’ll score major points with the guys.”

“Seriously? Here?” You laughed, shaking your head. “In this creepy basement?” You propped a basket of acrylic and oil paints on your hip, observing the chaos around you with a sigh.

“Fine,” you relented, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “But keep them down here. I don’t want any surprises.”

As you turned to leave, you glanced over your shoulder. “And while you’re at it, carry a few canvases up to the attic for me.”

An hour later, you had plugged in every lamp you could scrounge up and lit a small army of candles, desperate for a semblance of good lighting in the attic. Yet the glow was dim, casting an eerie ambiance that sent shivers down your spine. The flickering flames danced, creating ghostly shadows that stretched and twisted across the walls. As you smeared your mixture of acrylic paint on the canvas, caught in a whirlwind of creativity that teetered between brilliance and madness, you could have sworn the shadows were alive—contorting and writhing along the wooden beams with every flicker of the candlelight.

As if the house sensed your unease, the lamplight flickered, causing you to jump.

“Fuck this house,” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on your work.

“How do you paint in silence?” a voice called from behind the canvassed easel, becoming visible as he stepped closer, his face illuminated by a cluster of candles flickering on the floor to your right.

“What are you doing up here?” You asked, placing the brush on the palette and setting it down on a crate that served as a makeshift table.

He flashed you a playful grin. “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for the bathroom?”

You chuckled dryly. “No, I wouldn’t.”

He pulled a box of cigarettes from his pocket, rummaging until he produced a skinny joint, waving it triumphantly like a golden ticket. “What if I told you I was looking for a place to smoke this?”

Once again, your laughter rang out, genuine and bright. “Absolutely.”

“May I?” he asked, his brown eyes sparkling as he attempted a charming, demure blink.

You nodded, a hint of mischief in your smile. “Only if you share—and don’t tell my brother.”

“Done and done.” He bowed his head dramatically, a mock gesture of servitude.

“Open the window,” you said, gesturing to the one behind you, and he complied without hesitation.

“So, about the silence,” he said, the lilt of his voice rising as he inhaled deeply. “How do you manage it?”

You sighed heavily, accepting the joint from him. “Not by choice,” you replied, pausing to take a hit. “I use all the outlets for good lighting, so it’s a sacrifice I had to make.”

“Huh,” he tutted, shaking his head. “Ever heard of an extension cord?”

You snorted, a grin breaking through your serious facade. “Ever heard of minding your own business and not snooping around a stranger’s house?”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “You’ve wounded me, Wednesday Addams.”

“What?” You laughed, taking the joint back. “You’re weird.”

“I’m weird?” he countered, raising an eyebrow. “You’re living in the Addams Family mansion where actual people were murdered, and I’m the weird one?” He cocked his head, a playful challenge in his expression.

“If you look close enough, you might spot a disembodied hand scuttling across the floor or a rusty guillotine lurking in the shadows," he quipped, his laughter echoing through the room.

He sidled up to you, his eyes darting across the canvas. "What's taking shape here, anyway?"

You exhaled heavily, your gaze fixed on the jumble of colors before you. "I wish I knew," you confessed, your voice tinged with frustration. "Ever since I moved here, my creativity has been a dry well. I throw colors onto my palette, praying for inspiration, but all I manage are black voids or angry smears of red and purple."

He extended the last wisp of the joint towards you. You plucked it from his fingers, taking a long drag before muttering, "At this rate, I'll be slapping mascots on high school gymnasium walls until I'm old and gray."

"Nothing wrong with an honest, all-American job," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Beats peddling shitty weed."

You rolled your eyes, but a smirk played at the corners of your mouth. "I don't know," you mused, your body suddenly weightless, senses electrified. "This stuff's got me pretty high."

"Well then, 'High,'" he extended his hand with exaggerated formality, "I'm Eddie."

You grasped his hand, your grip firm despite your altered state. "I'm pretty sure we are in the same English class," you cocked an eyebrow, your tone playfully accusatory, "on the rare occasions you grace us with your presence."

"Guilty as charged," Eddie admitted, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

He made his way towards the door, his footsteps light on the creaky floorboards. At the threshold, he paused, turning back to face you. "Have fun, Van Gogh," he called out, his voice tinged with amusement.

Your paintbrush hovered mid-stroke. "I'm actually surprised you know who that is," you shot back, your tone a mixture of impressed and skeptical.

"Course I do," Eddie scoffed, puffing out his chest. "Dude lopped off his own ear - that's metal as hell."

As the door clicked shut and Eddie's footsteps faded down the stairs, you let out a laugh - a sound caught between confusion and delight, echoing in the suddenly empty room.

[bronzefuryfic]

Bronze Fury

When the only child of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce is brought to King's Landing to meet with the rest of her family, she finds herself caught in a crisis of succession. The Greens battle for her support... and her affections.

Chapter Twelve: Driftmark / Previous Chapter / Directory

Rhae struggles through encounters with old friends, lost family, and new supposed allies at the funeral reception on Driftmark.

If not for Helaena guiding her by the hand, Rhae was not sure if she would've found her way to the balcony for the funeral's reception. She followed a half-step behind her friend, painfully aware of Daemon following a few more steps behind her . Rhae wondered if Daemon was eyeing her from behind—did he even consider her worth watching? Not likely, she thought. Yet she felt certain she could feel his eyes penetrating the back of her skull. 

She didn't wish to know if she was right. 

Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back. 

At the top of the stairs, the crowd dispersed itself amongst tables of food and drink, the guests speaking softly amongst themselves. Aegon, Aemond and a muttering Helaena moved to claim a tent nearby, but before Rhae could follow, she was grabbed roughly by the elbow. She turned ungraciously on the spot, her other arm already raised instinctively to strike.

"Ser Criston," Rhae exhaled, dropping her arm just as quickly. Some of the nobles were staring, and she brought her voice to a hiss. "You frightened me!"

The knight smiled. 

"As your instructor, I ought to praise your reflexes," Cole said, his voice equally quiet. "But if my lady would permit the advice of a friend?"

She nodded bedgrudingly. 

"Take a breathe. No one will hurt you while I'm here."

Rhae inhaled, remembering the last time they spoke. I can do this. She willed herself to believe it. 

"Thank you, Ser Criston."

Cole gave her elbow a squeeze, so hard that it hurt. But Rhae found she didn't mind. Part of her even liked it—the dull throb of his fingers digging into her skin offered her mind's only relief. 

With one final pinch, the knight departed to rejoin the Queen. Rhae surveyed the area once more. Aegon and Aemond seemed to be arguing amongst themselves, watching over a crouched Helaena. 

Only the back of her head was visible, but Rhae was certain Helaena had retrieved her favorite spider. From where , Rhae was less certain: pockets, sleeves, the folds of her dress were some of Helaena's favorite hideaways. One time, when Alicent had made her empty all three, Rhae had even seen Helaena tuck a weevil into her hair. 

Rhae thought to join Helaena in her campaign for insects over aristocrats... until she noticed Prince Jacaerys standing alone on the outskirts of the party. Her heart tugged in his direction, and her feet quickly followed. 

"Jace," she sidled beside him. "How has Dragonstone been treating you?"

" Vermax likes it." He offered flatly, possessing none of his former friendliness. 

Rhae nodded, moving farther along the balustrade until they stood shoulder to shoulder, watching out over the waters. 

"He must love the open air."

Jace shrugged, turning slightly in her direction. 

"He's not allowed out much yet... Mother says there are much bigger dragons in the mountains. Vermax doesn't understand that it's dangerous, though. He just wants to explore."

"He'll need his rider to keep him safe, then."

Jace scrunched up his nose, avoiding her gaze still. 

"I think he's supposed to keep me safe."

"Certainly." Rhae said. "But until he's grown, he'll count on you to steer him out of trouble."

"I guess you're right," he said, but then, with an air of defeat: "Vermax isn't a very good listener."

"Then you'll have to be an even better leader."

Jace smiled for a fraction of a second, but it disappeared just as quickly. He rests his arms on the barrier, and places his chin in the nook of his elbow.

"I've missed having lessons together."

"Me too."

She looked over her shoulder—no one was paying them any mind. Rhae leans a little closer. 

"I'm sorry about Ser Harwin." 

Jace recoils.

"I don't know what you mean."

He thinks I threaten him, Rhae thought. She felt certain the words of Vaemond Velaryon still echoed in his ears, as Daemon's laughter did hers. 

"I don't mean to upset you," Rhae murmured. "I'm just sorry."

The tension in Jace's small, pale features softened. He nods an unspoken thanks. 

"Maybe you can come visit Dragonstone," he says after awhile. "You can claim a dragon... we could go flying." 

"That would be nice," Rhae mused, doubtful.

She didn't wish to linger on the thought any longer. Rhae turned around, leaning on the balustrade and gazing out over the party. She was quick to spot Daemon nearby, drink in hand, doing the same. Despite his marriage to the deceased, none had yet offered the Rogue Prince their condolences. Rhae supposed the others felt as nervous as she did—Daemon's stance was lax. Too lax. The illusion of calm was betrayed by the diligence of his stare. There was a narrowness to his violet eyes as he surveyed the crowd, daring any who might approach him. 

Someone must , Rhae thought. Ser Gerold knew this once. Perhaps it is not too late to follow in his footsteps. 

But as Daemon began to scan in her direction, Rhae averted her eyes once more, cursing herself. 

Not yet, she decided, before taking a silent vow:

I swear it on the Gods Old and New... before the day's end I must. 

She continued her survelliance—Ser Criston and Queen Alicent whispered amongst themselves, under the oddly watchful eye of Larys the Clubfoot. Rhae did not think that Larys seemed anymore sorrowful for his lost kin than Daemon. Less, if that were even possible. The new Lord Strong looked to be smiling into his cup, as though delighting in some secret to which only he was privy. What joy was there in inheriting the cursed castle Harrenhal?

Rhae's eyes continued to wander: Lord Corlys seemed to console a crying Lucerys... King Viserys seemed to falter in his seat... Princess Rhaenyra paced the outskirts of the balcony... 

Her gaze came to rest at last on her sisters sat weeping by a fire. Her heart panged. 

"Aren't you going to go talk to them?"

Rhae blinked in surprise, unaware that Jace had been mimicking her movements. He too was leaned against the balustrade, peering towards Rhaena and Baela. 

"I'm not sure I know how," Rhae admitted.

"Mother told me I ought to offer my condolenses," Jace muttered, his tone bitter. But a moment later, his nose scrunched as he shook his head in quiet penance. He looked to Rhae, his hand upturned in offering. "We could go together?"

Rhae had to admire his thoughtfulness, and squeezed his hand graciously.

"Let's."

Jace led the way, with Rhae trailing behind, emboldened by the boy's support. But as they drew near, and Rhaena noticed their approach, Rhae's feet faltered and she fell another step behind. She could not read the look on her youngest sister's face—was it apprehension? Anger? Confusion? None felt welcoming, as Rhaena turned to Baela to warn her of Rhae's approach. 

Rhae looked back to the tent where her friends were huddled—Helaena was still ducked on the ground, out of view, but Aegon and Aemond had ceased whatever discussion they'd been having to watch Rhae.

Aegon has already gotten his hands on wine, and raises his cup in her direction. He's not drunk... yet, and Rhae can only take the gesture to geniunely mean, 'good luck'. As always with his antics, Rhae must suppress the urge to roll her eyes. But it is oddly comforting—at least, if things go poorly, she can always join him for a drink after. 

But where Aegon offers comfort should she fail, Aemond provides the strength to keep going. He locks eyes with her—he has the same determined look he often wears after a long morning of training. The kind that says don't give up. Push harder. You're almost there. 

Rhae nods, before hastening to catch back up to Jace. 

Baela fixes her with a hard stare, her arm wrapping protectively around Rhaena. Even with tear streaks down her face, the girl looks fierce.

"What do you want?"

Jace opens his mouth to speak, ready to facilitate, but Rhae cuts him off before he gets the chance. She doesn't know what Daemon has told them to earn herself such a harsh welcome—maybe nothing at all, leaving them to fill the blanks. But it doesn't matter. 

It won't matter. 

Daemon has robbed me of my family long enough. 

"You must be Baela," Rhae says, earning a stiff nod. Her sisters are sat, and Rhae considers lowering herself down to eye-level before deciding against it. Something tells her that Baela may find this condescending. "And Rhaena, isn't it?"

Rhaena gives a small nod and a sniff. 

"You're Rhae," she mutters. 

The three sisters soak in the silence, unsure what to make of the moment. 

Jace steps in, "We came to offer our condolences."

Rhae wracks her brain for something to say. In the stillness, there is nothing to distract from the faint echo of a long, distant cry.

Vhagar. 

"We—" Rhae catches herself, remembering their uncle Laenor, Jace's supposed father, was somewhere nearby. "— I understand the pain of losing a parent. Your mother must've been a force, to have earned the respect of the Queen of Dragons... and our father. I only wish I could've met her."

It wasn't a lie—long had Rhae hoped to see the woman that had seemingly won her father's heart. A morbid curiousity, perhaps, to know what Laena possessed that Rhea Royce had not. But she tries not to let her jealousy show on her face. The time for it has passed. They ended up in the same place after all. Taken by the Stranger. 

Baela considers her words, her skeptism clear... but her hold on Rhaena loosens as the younger sister leans forward a bit. 

"She made it look easy," she says softly, tears pooling and dripping from tip of her chin. She wipes her face with her cloak. 

Rhae can feel the familiar weight of sorrow crushing downwards, her head bowing in sympathy. She can't remember the details of her own mother's funeral, having been a mere toddler... but some part of her can recall the same heavy feeling that seemed to suffocate. In some ways, Rhae supposed she'd been struggling for a breathe of fresh air her whole life. 

Jace's shoulders sag as Baela's lip begins to tremble... and then she takes his hand. And Jace smiles, just a little. For a moment the air is lighter, and the weight begins to lift. 

But relief is not release, and Rhae cannot bare it any longer. She cannot shake the feeling of being an intruder—Something about the grief of Jace, Rhaena and Baela felt different than her own. She'd had over a decade to mourn, Rhea Royce had died a long time ago...

No... Murdered. Rhae could not allow herself to forget that, no matter how much it hurt or how much more difficult it made things. That was the difference. If Laena had met the same fate, wouldn't her daughters feel anger over sorrow? Wouldn't the Velaryons feel the same fury as the Royces? And, since that did not seem to be true, surely that meant that Daemon had loved Laena. That her death had been a true tragedy. No plots. No celebrations when the deed was done. It's not fair! Daemon had chosen them, Daemon—!

Rhae looked to see where he stood... still on the far side of the party, not even looking their way. Unwilling to join them, unconcerned by any of their grief. 

Staying is not loving , Rhae realizes. Perhaps our father is not capable. 

When Rhae turns back, Rhaena is watching her carefully, almost expectant. Her hand twitches where it rest on her knee. But Rhae's chest is beginning to rise and fall quite rapidly now, and her throat starting to ache. 

"I'm sorry," Rhae mutters numbly. For your mother and mine. For our father. For being a stranger. For not knowing how to make it right, even now. 

And before she can lose her composure, she turns on her heel and marches back to the sanctuary of her friends. 

"What happened?" Aemond asks immediately, his brow furrowing in concern. Rhae merely shakes her head, knowing her voice will come as a croak.

Aegon's free hand has already found it's way to her back, his thumb stroking down her spine—Drinking always made him careless. Rhae takes a few more steps beneath the tent, several paces further from the crowd, to where Helaena now stands.

The princess's eyes are glassy, her hands fidgeting with a broken shell and a dead spider. Her little finger is red with blood. 

"I need a drink," Rhae manages to grumble. 

"Right," says Aegon, handing her his cup. 

"Aegon..." Rhae turns it over, a few drops of wine dripping onto the ground. Aemond snorts. 

"Right." Aegon strides off, searching for a servant. 

"Well?" Aemond asks, as soon as he's gone. 

"I offered my condolences, no more."

"What else is there to offer?"

"I don't know," Rhae admits. "I just feel like it needs to be more."

"But... why?"

"Because I have to!" Rhae snaps, catching Aemond by surprise. She grimaces, ashamed of her outburst, and lowers her voice. "It's just... if I don't, there's no guarantee that anyone ever will. And if I can't do these things, if I can't make things better... then all of this is for nothing." She looks down at her burnt, discolored fingers, her voice hardening. "And it can't be for nothing."

Aemond nods, seeming to mull her words over. He looks over his shoulder, to where Rhae had just stormed off from. Princess Rhaenys has come to comfort her granddaughters, hugging them tightly. And Jace... seems to have given them space, or been kicked from it. He stands alone by a pit of fire, his head hanging. There is no one to help him hold his grief now. 

He'll be okay, Rhae tells herself. 

She turns back towards Helaena and gently pulls the broken shell from her fingers, thumbing a particularly jagged edge. "Hel, you've cut yourself."

"Oh," Helaena shrugs, allowing Rhae to wipe it away with the inside of her sleeve. Upon further inspection, Rhae can see that it is not too deep, and Helaena begins to absentmindedly suck the wound. The princess frowns at the spider dead in her other hand, its legs curled inwards. 

"Here," Aegon has returned carrying two more goblets, handing one to Rhae. She wastes no time in taking a long, deep drink. 

Before coming to King's Landing, the most wine she'd ever drank at once was three cups—just to see how many she could get away with at dinner before Ser Gerold would intervene. But in the weeks since, Rhae and Aegon had had their share of tavern nights. Where one cup once made her tongue loose and cheeks rosy, it now grants her steady hands and calmed nerves. And, most importantly, just a little bit of courage. 

Rhae looks back out towards Daemon, who is now speaking with his brother, the King. Rage broils in her belly, remembering how Viserys expressed his own worries about meeting Daemon after so long apart.

If the greatest coward in all the realm could face his fears, well... 

What does that make me? 

"Not in front of father," Aemond mutters beside her. It was impressive, the way he always seemed to know her actions just as well as her. "And not without someone to watch your back. Just... give me a minute."

"Where are you going?"

His ears redden, unable to meet her eye. 

"To make things better."

And before Rhae can ask him what he means, he's disappeared from her side. She followed the back of his head through the crowd, and felt a warmth spread through her chest. He came to a stop by the fire, just across from Jace. 

"How was it?" Aegon asks. "Your sisters, I mean." He's already halfway through his own cup of wine. Rhae sighs, and he nudges her ribs, pressing on. "About what you expected?"

"Unfortunately," she admits. 

"Doesn't matter," Aegon says. Rhae glares at him, unappreciative of his flippancy, but he taps his cup to hers and adds: "You don't need them, you've got us. Right, Hel?"

Helaena nods as prompted, her scratched pinky still caught between her lips.

"Yeah," Rhae can't help but smile. "Cheers."

They finish their cups, and Aegon makes a show of staggering into her. Rhae knows he has not had enough to be falling over yet, but for the sake of proximity she allows him to put an arm around her shoulder for support. Rhae wishes they could slink away for a bit, and let Aegon help her forget her worries. Even just joining him for a few more drinks would be better than what she had planned. But she shakes the thought from her head—she made a vow. 

By day's end I must. 

Far too soon, Aemond has returned to the tent. Rhae suddenly finds herself embarrassed, Aegon still hung around her neck—Aemond can not contain the tremor of frustration that passes his face. Trying to appear nonchalant, Rhae tries to ask him silently:

Well?

He shakes his head. It seems that his attempts to stitch old wounds had been no more successful than hers. 

But before she can say anything else, a commotion draws their attention away. Lord Corlys has gripped a man Rhae recognizes as Ser Qarl by the collar of his doublet, pointing out towards the sea and speaking in a poorly concealed, furious voice:

"Retrieve your patron!"

Qarl takes off without protest, and Vaemond Velaryon comes forward to calm the Sneaksnake. He has drawn much attention with his outburst—nearly all but Daemon and Viserys seem to have had their eyes drawn to the commotion. Through a sea of swiveling heads, Rhae struggles to see the pair. Despite the challenges, she feels certain they are arguing. Viserys retreats to his seat just as the funeral-goers return to their previous conversations, and something stirs inside her. 

Now. I should go now. 

Rhae shrugs Aegon off of her. He looks offended, at first, but his expression instantly sobers as he realizes what she is intent to do. He and Aemond exchange a look that Rhae cannot quite decipher, and she suddenly feels certain that they have been discussing her privately. Rhae supposes she'd always known this to be true, thinking back to her arrival to King's Landing and how they whispered behind her back. 

"We could go with you," Aemond says. 

"No."

"Rhae..." Aegon begins. 

"Rhae will face her father alone," Helaena says hollowly. The trio turns to face her, and she shrugs, still frowning at the dead spider in her hand. "You two won't always be around to help. Rhae needs this."

"Thank you, Hel." Rhae looks between the boys. "She's right, I need to face him." She shudders. "Just... promise me you won't be too far, yeah?"

"Promise."

"Of course."

Rhae hands Aegon her empty cup, and before she can reclaim her senses, plunges her way through the crowd to where her father stands. 

Rhae keeps her chin up, as Ser Gerold would've told her to do, as she navigates around mourners and servers. Gods, what am I to say to him? She'd always imagined the words would come to her, having thought on it so long... But even halfway there, the confrontation looming, her mind was blank except for a steady mantra of instructions to follow. 

Chin up. Back straight. Don't look away. Make him see you. 

Daemon has resumed his surveilliance of the crowd, his eyes scanning back toward her direction. Rhae braces herself, her jaw set. 

"Lady Rhae, it is about time we've met." A man suddenly steps in front of her, blocking her view. She hadn't seen him approach, and they're stood so close their toes are nearly touching. The top of her head hardly reached his shoulder, and she found herself face to face with a shiny, hand-shaped lapel pin. "Though I wish it was under better circumstances. I understand being here must bring about a... tragic familiarity for you. You've conducted yourself admirably."

"Ser Otto," Rhae cranes her neck upwards. The man smiled beneath his wiry beard—it was the diplomatic kind. There was no warmth in it. 

She clears her throat, frustrated and relieved for the interruption. 

"Thank you. My uncle told me often of your support when mine own mother had been taken by a stranger." Rhae takes a step back, trying to see past Otto to where Daemon stands. She was surprised to find him glaring—but not quite at her. Instead, Daemon's eyes seemed to bore into the emerald cloak on Ser Otto's back. Rather than the cold indifference Rhae was growing to expect, the creases of his brow revealed something more... anger. Hatred. 

The enemy of my father is my friend. 

Rhae focused once more on Ser Otto Hightower, recalling her house's words. 

"House Royce remembers," she said. "Both your kindness and your loyalty. Should your beacon burn, ours will be the first to respond."

Ser Otto nods, looking pleased.

"You do your family proud, Lady Rhae."

Rhae smiled in spite of herself. She glances back behind Otto, to make sure Daemon is still watching, but he vacated his spot on the balstrude and disappeared from her view. 

Shit. Where'd he go?

"No matter how fat the leech grows, it always wants for another meal," comes a voice. Otto takes a step back and turns, revealing Daemon, simmering with rage. 

To Rhae's envy, Ser Otto seems unperturbed by the insult or his anger. She can't match his unaffected demeanor, and instead adopts Daemon's hostility. She glares at her father, daring him to look down and face her. 

"I'm sorry for your loss, my Prince." Otto says mildly. "As I was just telling your daughter, it seems so soon since we'd buried your first wife. Tragedy clings to you closer than most, doesn't it?"

Daemon's eyes flicker to Rhae, and Rhae is reminded suddenly of her encounter with Sheepstealer, when she'd stared down his maw and seen fire burning. 

But Rhae had faced the flames before, clenching her scarred fingers into a fist. She can feel her face twist in defiance. You won't get rid of me. 

And, just as with Sheepstealer, the fire burning inside Daemon seems to dim for just a moment. It is a consideration of mercy... for now. No more, no less. 

He looks back to Otto. 

"And in all that time, it seems you still spend a concerning amount of time meddling in the affairs of young girls." Daemon growls.

Ser Otto cocks a brow. 

"Is that to say you've ceased?"

Rhae cannot decide whether Otto Hightower is the most arrogant man she's ever met, or the bravest. Daemon grips the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister, and Rhae feels certain that the Hand is about to lose his head. 

"Careful how you tread... tragedy can still find it's way to you, too." Daemon says, his voice dangerously soft. "Stay away from my daughter."

Ser Otto chuckles—it is hard to say if he is humoring the prince, or bending to his threat. But the end result is the same, as he bows his head to Rhae. Her eyes widden in panic. No! She wants to cry. Don't leave! 

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Rhae," Otto says. "I'm sure we'll speak again soon."

Then he departs, leaving Rhae alone with her father. He looks down on her, shaking his head. 

"Mittys riñītsos," Daemon grumbles. 

Even as anxiety makes her ears ring, Rhae can understand the insult. Riñītsos, little girl—it was one of her earliest lessons, when she had learned the most basic nouns. And the other, mittys... Aegon had taught her that one, amongst a host of other insults.

Foolish little girl. 

Rhae thinks to find a sufficient Valyrian curse, but her anger demands an immediate response and the words of the Targaryens will not come. 

She takes her mother's tongue.

"Fuck you."

A glint of amusement passes her fathers face. Somehow, this seems to have been the right answer.

"You've grown," he croons. The way he looks at her makes Rhae's skin crawl, the way he measuring her in his mind. It makes her feel small and fragile.

"It's been thirteen years," she replies stiffly. "That'll happen."

"Hm", Daemon shrugs, suddenly looking bored. "Who's counting?"

Rhae hadn't even realized she's lashed her hand out until she's been caught by the wrist. Daemon's grip is like iron—had her hit landed, she would have struck him in the chest. He twists her arm and raises it higher so he can see the burns on her fingers. 

"Let go of me!" Rhae tries to wrestle from his grasp, but her attempts are futile. At the very least, some have turned to watch her struggle, but Daemon doesn't seem to mind the attention. He jerks her forward, and says in the same hushed, idle tone:

"I already had, and yet here you are." 

"You abandoned me!" Rhae hissed. 

"Is that what you think?" Daemon scoffs and releases her. 

"I know it. All know it!" Daemon shakes his head, and it is all Rhae can do not to try and hit him again. For all the ways she feared meeting her father would go, this is somehow worse. Tears sting at her eyes. "Don't you dare tell me no." 

His jaw sets, and he looks at her for a long, hard moment. There is the slightest hint of regret in his violet eyes. But where does it stem from? Remorse? Pity? 

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it."

"Not here."

"Then pick a place." Rhae folds her arms over her chest, tapping her foot expectantly. Let's go somewhere else. Let's settle this. 

"If you insist." Daemon strides off without a second glance back, leaving Rhae to hurry after him. He leads her to the edge of the party, to the top of the stairs, before making his way down them. 

Shit. Rhae looks back towards Ser Criston, only to find he is lost in conversation with Ser Otto and Queen Alicent. She spies Aemond and Aegon next, still at the tent. She's too far to read their faces, but Aegon throws his hands up in exasperation, as though to ask, 'Where the hell are you going?'

Rhae's hair stood on end. Where were they going? And what was she thinking, asking to be taken away from the safety of onlookers? She looks down the staircase—Daemon has already reached the first landing. He raises his thin, pale eyebrows. 

Aren't you coming? 

Rhae tears herself from safety and takes off after him. 

Rhae leaps the last few stairs to catch up, landing in the soft white sands of Driftmark's beaches. The sun is starting to set, and the tide is coming in. The sounds of the balcony get lost in the crash of waves. 

"That's far enough." Rhae says. "No one can hear us." Daemon must agree, because he stops in his tracks and turns back to face her. When he doesn't say anything, Rhae marches closer, pushing him on. "Well? Explain yourself, then!"

"I gave you everything, child." Daemon asserts calmly. 

"Liar!" Rhae forgets her fear and her patience, jabbing at his chest. "You killed Rhea Royce. Do you deny it? You left me with nothing!" 

"I gave you more than most men could ever dream of!" Daemon snaps so harshly Rhae stumbles a step backward. "A castle, titles. An uncontested ascension! You've taken the life of peace I'd promised you and you've squandered it!"

Rhae cannot believe her ears.

"You expect me to be grateful?"

"I expected you to stay in the Vale! Away from the likes of those rats and all their bullshit politicking." Daemon snarls in disgust. "Yet you're determined to insert yourself where you don't belong."

"I belong wherever I deem myself to belong."

"Stupid child." Daemon's eyes narrow, Rhae yelps as he seizes her by her burnt wrist and dragging her discolored fingers to eye level once more. "Have you learned nothing from your failures? How many times must you be burned to understand?" Rhae tries to rip herself away, but it's useless. She can see his nails digging into her skin and finds herself thankful she can't feel it. "You may be my daughter, but you have none of my blood. You bleat and think it a roar, little lamb. Dragons know the difference. Why else would Sheepstealer have turned on you?"

Rhae wonders vaguely when he'd learned about her encounter with Sheepstealer, but the question is drowned in a haze of devastation. The sun is getting very low now, and Rhae tries to focus on the crash of the waves. She tastes salt at her lips. She'd always known this was how meeting her father would go, hadn't she? So why did it hurt so much?

"You're wrong." She meant to shout, but her words came out more a whimper.

Is it true? Do I bleat like a sheep?

" You're wrong!" She cries, more forcefully this time. Rather than trying to pull herself away from Daemon, she shoves into him with all her might. He staggers back a step before wrapping his arms around her in a binding embrace. Having lost the advantage of surprise, Rhae writhes against him now. But his hold only tightens. She cries. He pulls her tighter. It's only when she's exhausted herself, her face hot and wet with tears, that he lets go. 

"Run back to your pasture, Rhae." Daemon whispers. "Can't you see I'm trying to spare you?" He cups her face in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Stay out of the way of what's coming. Whatever you may think of me... I'd hate to see you burned again."

His hold on her slackens, and Rhae shoves away from him at last. She cannot stand to be in his presence a second longer, and with one last reproachful glare, she runs across the sand and back towards the funeral reception. She looks up at the balcony and see's two heads of silver leaning over balstrude—Aemond and Aegon, come to watch over her. She wonders how much they heard and prays to every god she can think of that it was none. 

Rhae thinks to collect herself as she reaches the base of the stairs, but as she comes to a stop at the bottom-most step, she nearly crashes into another silver-haired relative. Rhae wipes her eyes hurriedly to better see Princess Rhaenyra stood in front of her. 

The Princess looks startled, looking from the clear distress on her cousin's face to Daemon's turned back farther along the beach. Rhaenyra looks like she might say something, and Rhae's mouth opens to offer some warning. But neither are able to quite work out what to say to the other—they didn't have the history needed for comfort or difficult questions. 

"Be careful," Rhae manages. Princess Rhaenyra bows her head in acknowledgment, giving Rhae a look she can't decipher, and continues on her path to Daemon. 

The encounter is enough to distract Rhae from the anxiety that shakes her body. She stares after Rhaenyra, curious and frightened, before taking a long, deep breathe and continuing up the stairs. 

The party seems to have thinned out—Alicent, Otto and Ser Criston seemed to have disappeared, likely with Helaena, as she was also missing. King Viserys and his guard were gone. Corlys and Rhaenys were nowhere to be seen either, and even as Rhae surveyed the balcony, more heads retreat indoors. The sun is fully set now.

Aemond and Aegon hurry over, unable to mask their worried expression. 

"Did you hear all that?" Rhae asks, already knowing the answer.

Aemond tries to offer her the dignity of privacy and shakes his head, but Aegon has already shrugged his shoulders. Duh. 

Rhae sniffs and kicks the ground. 

"Well..." She says. "It's like I said, right?"

Aegon opens his arms and Rhae does not wait a moment to go to him. She doesn't cry—Rhae doesn't think she has any tears left—but she allows Aegon to squeeze the tension from her body as they rock back and forth for a moment. 

"He won't hurt you Rhae," Aemond says as they pull apart. He looks angry, and Rhae tries to ignore the possibility that it's because of her and Aegon's embrace. 

"He already has," Rhae sighs. She doesn't mean to make him feel worse, but it's true. He can't stop what has already happened. 

"Then he'll regret it."

"We can plot vengeance later," Aegon says. "Rhae needs to relax. How about another drink?"

Rhae nods numbly—there are no more servants milling about and handing out cups, but they seem to have set a table for those that remain. 

Over the course of the next hours, she and Aegon down four... five... six cups each. Rhae guiltily tries to get Aemond to join them, but he refuses each time. After her third offer, she begins to wish he'd simply go off to bed. At one point, Aegon even tells him to, since all he's got to offer is more misery to their commiseration. But Aemond is insistent on watching over them, and even as his disappointment and frustration seems to grow, he never once leaves them. 

Rhae tries to feel appreciative of his dedication, but by the fifth cup she is unable to feel much of anything, and finds that she prefers it that way. With any luck she'll be able to erase the whole day from her mind. 

They only stop drinking when they've emptied the stock left behind on the table. At this point, Aegon suggests they go enjoy the beach properly, to which Aemond notes that stairs seem like a bad idea. He's proven right almost instantly—Rhae and Aegon trip their way to the first landing before stumbling to the ground. 

"M'so tired..." Rhae mumbles, but Aegon has already fallen asleep. She rests her head on his shoulder as her eyes flutter closed.

"Get up!" 

Aegon gasps and jolts beside her, knocking her head to the side. Rhae blinks stupidly in the darkness, her body aching, as Aegon is pulled to his feet. 

"Brother?" Aegon asks. But it's the towering frame of Ser Otto that looms over them. Rhae scrambles to stand. 

"Get to bed!" He barks, dragging Aegon up the stairs as Rhae hurries after them. The order isn't for her, but she can't help but feel that she's in trouble too.

They pass Aemond at the top of the stairs—standing guarding, still. For how long, Rhae couldn't say. 

"Thanks for watching over us." She mumbles, embarrassed for what she'd put him through. 

"Always," He replies curtly. 

"Aren't you coming to bed too?"

"In a bit."

"Okay." Rhae wish she had more to say, but she can't think of anything. "Goodnight."

I'll make it up to him tomorrow. 

"Rhae?"

"Yeah?"

Aemond shifts from one foot to the other, biting at his lip. "I know you don't think I'm good enough to take care of you."

"Aemond, I didn't mean—"

"And maybe you're right." He interjects. "Maybe I'm not yet." He straightens his back, a determined look in his eye. "But I'm going to be. Just trust me, okay?"

I owe him that much, Rhat thinks. But something about the intensity in his eyes scares her, and she prays he has not planned anything reckless. 

"I trust you." 

"Good," Aemond turns back to look out over the balustrade, looking up at the night sky. "Goodnight Rhae."

"Goodnight Aemond."

Rhae turns and hurries after the sound of Otto berating Aegon, making it into the castle just as Aegon is being sent up the stairs to his room. She hopes she can slip up after him, avoiding the Hand's wrath, but finds no luck. He turns on her as she approaches. 

"I'd expected more from you," Otto scolds. 

Rhae's brow furrowed, "You're not my father."

"Would you rather answer to him?"

"I'm head of my house," Rhae snaps. "I don't answer to anyone."

"Perhaps that is true in Runestone." Otto adjusts his lapel pin and summons his impressive height. "But so long as you are to stay in King's Landing, you have other considerations. So you’d best get to bed. Now."

Rhae glares at him, but she is far too tired to argue. It's incredibly late, and her head is still dizzy from all the wine. She makes a show of stomping up the stairs and finds Aegon waiting at the top. 

"Seems we're both in trouble," he whispers. 

"No shit," she grumbles. Somehow, the day had been even worse than she imagined. "We should get to bed."

"Right," Aegon agrees. "Mine or yours?"

Between her anger and the wine and the desperate need for warmth, there was no place left inside Rhae for prudence. She was sick of being told what to do and where to go and who to be—why shouldn't she make the selfish decision for once? 

"Mine."

Aegon must've expected her standard eye roll, his mouth hanging slightly agape. 

"We could get caught."

"Wasn't that the point?"

No sooner had the door to her room shut were they fumbling in the darkness, grasping at each other's hair, body, and clothes. Rhae could feel his hand searching desperately for the fastenings on the back of her dress, and she busies her fingers with the ties of his pants. They stagger their way back towards the mattress, stripping away at each other's garments. Aegon is the first to bump into the bedframe. He falls back into it as Rhae begins to climb on top, straddling his hips. Despite the cold breeze just outside, it feels like there is furnace burns between them. As they try to wrestle out of the last of their clothing, they remained locked at the lips, rocking their bodies against each other, and then—

"RRAAAAAAAAAAWWWWGGGGHHHHH."

A guttural roar booms outside the window with so much force it shakes all of High Tide. There was no mistaking it—a dragon was just outside. A big one. And it was very, very angry. 

"Shit!" 

Aegon tries to stand as Rhae quickly rolls off to the side. Another devastating roar blares. The castle, previously asleep, is now alive with chaos. Out the window, Rhae can see guards scrambling to action. Out in the hall, she can fear doors fly open on their hinges. 

"Are we under attack?" Aegon asks, redoing the clips of his tunic. Panic grips her heart—could it be Daemon? 

Rhae pulls her dress back over her head, struggling to reach around to her fastenings. She can hear people pouring into the halls now, shouting questions. 

She and Aegon at last pull on their shoes and exit the room. Helaena is just a ways down, her face stricken. 

"Rhae!" She cries, hurrying over. She only casts half a glance at Aegon, not questioning why he's already stood right behind her. "Something's happened."

"We've noticed." Rhae takes her hand. "Are you okay?"

She shakes her head, her lip trembling. 

"Prince Aegon!" A voice cuts her off from down the stairs. A woman Rhae recognizes as Talya, Queen Alicent's lady-in-waiting, races up the stairs towards them. "Princess Helaena, and Lady Rhae too! Thank the Seven. Please, come with me. There's been an attack."

"Where is Ser Criston?" Aegon demands.

"With your mother," Talya replies. "We're going to them now."

Helaena clutches to Rhae as they make their way down the stairs and through the halls. An attack... there had not been another roar since the second, and Rhae wonders what else Daemon is unleashing with Caraxes. Perhaps he was dousing some other part of High Tide in flames. 

But... Rhae thought back to Caraxes' cries from the morning. He did not make a roar. And if not Caraxes...

They came at last into a large chamber. Many guests, most in their nightclothes, formed a circle around the room. At the center was Queen Alicent, a Maester, and a large wooden chair with a silver-haired boy squirming and screaming in agony. 

It wasn't until they drew near that Rhae realized it was Aemond—only he hardly looked like himself. Blood covered all the left side of his face, gushing so heavily Rhae could hardly distinguish the wound. 

"Oh gods..." Aegon mumbles. Helaena grips her hand tighter, hiding her face in Rhae's shoulder.

There's a snip, a strangled shout, and Aemond's eye is pulled from of his head.

Next Chapter: The Sacrifice

Something is lost, things have changed, but in the end... is there something to be gained?

AO3 | Chapter Discussion

Thanks for reading!

[songcharshowdown]

Hello, and welcome to the Song Character Showdown!

We'll be doing a standard tournament bracket. Before you dash on down to that submission form, a few quick rules:

Characters must originate from music, not just have a theme song. Bill Wimbly has his own song in the Wimbly Show, but he's from the TV show. White Boy McGee is in a musical and has a few numbers. Grunklo Frommyalbums is the narrator of the pop song The Ballad of Grunklo. Bill and White Boy can't compete, but Grunklo can. Examples: Melanie Martinez's Crybaby, They Might Be Giants's Particle Man, My Chemical Romance's The Fabulous Killjoys

This bracket is not intended for characters from opera/traditional folk songs/classical music, but if they have enough nominations, I will absolutely include them. Examples: Schubert's the Erlkönig, Sergei Prokofiev's Peter, Flotow's Martha

Characters from adaptations of older stories are allowed, as are those that had their albums adapted into other mediums. Examples: The Oh Hellos's Wormwood, Lord Huron's Lee Green

Characters that appear in music videos are eligible, as long as they appear in more than three videos. Example: IDKHOW's White Shadow

Real people are not eligible, even if they're in music videos and have songs sung about them.

Characters may be nominated in groups or individually. Examples: MCR's The Fabulous Killjoys, the Mountain Goats's Alpha Couple

There'll be a max of 32 players. Nominations close on March 28th. You can nominate as many guys as you want, but only submit them once. Have fun!

If you have any campaigning, tag it #songcharshowdown and tag me!

Inspired by tournaments like @best-overplayed-song, @bestfictionaldivorce, @ultimate-divorce-tournament, @ultimate-tragic-couples-showdown, and many, many others.

[wanderingnork]

Gith Deep Dive: Dark Sun Part 1 - Introducing the Gith of Athas

When you tell a githyanki they can't do something, they always turn around and prove you wrong. Tell Gith she can't be free of the mind flayers? She'll tear down their entire empire and found one of her own in its place. Tell Vlaakith she can't rule forever? Not only will she become a lich to extend her rule for thousands of years, but she'll figure out how to become a god, too. Tell a member of the Sha'sal Khou his work is doomed? He'll turn his entire creche into a spark of a revolution and invite the githzerai for dinner.

So when the githyanki were confronted with a law of the very universe that forbade them from reaching a world they wanted to conquer, they turned around and staged the greatest break-in the multiverse has ever seen.

Unfortunately, the world they broke into was the world of Dark Sun, unlike any other place the githyanki had seen before.

The Dark Sun campaign setting takes place on the grim planet of Athas. In a long-past age, the planet was green. It was prosperous, thriving, protected by nature-masters and widespread psionic power. But then a powerful psionicist discovered arcane magic. In order to power his spells, he drained the life from everything around him, defiling the land. His champions began a series of terrible "cleansing wars" to destroy as much life on Athas as they could--and they nearly succeeded.

The planet was left as a blasted desert under a dull orange sun. Temperatures rise to up to 55C/130F regularly, and even the most fertile regions rarely see more than a gentle mist instead of rain. The seas have been replaced with vast oceans of super-fine silt. Familiar animals and plants and fantasy creatures have been wiped out, leaving strange but hardy mundane beasts and horrific monstrosities behind. The wider multiverse was cut off by a planar dead zone called "the Gray," leaving Athas without gods or any kind of contact beyond its own plane. Travelers trying to get in via the Astral Plane get lost in the Gray and either turn around, or simply never leave. Even its crystal sphere (the mystical container of each material plane for various campaign settings) is completely sealed off, and beyond the reach of spelljammers.

It's a terribly lonely place.

Back when the world was a more hospitable place and still open to the multiverse, the githyanki were present. Open your Black Spine: Adventure Book Two to page 4 if you want to read along. They had residences on the surface of Athas, but their primary city was Yathazor, in a cavern deep beneath what would someday be called the Black Spine Mountains. This was millennia ago: the Green Age, when Athas was hospitable and psionic powers were first widespread, began 14,000 years before the present day and ended about 8,000 years ago.

Yathazor was a strange and stunning city, filled with plants and gardens, githyanki living in vertically-stacked homes and palaces. Status and rank determined how high up a person's house could be, with the highest-ranking githyanki occupying levels of the city where they traveled along walkways between buildings. Such githyanki may have never touched the ground. An artificial yellow sun circled the ceiling of the cavern to give life to the plants. Decorative stonework, carvings, and plentiful ironwork enhanced the city's beauty. To defend it from enemies, especially githzerai, it was locked behind a planar shield that prevented any plane-shifting.

But the githzerai weren't so easily stopped. At some point, they launched attacks on every githyanki settlement on Athas, using bombs called "psionic devastators." These sent out powerful psi-waves that blasted every githyanki in the vicinity. Some githzerai managed to get hold of keys that let them through the planar shield into Yathazor, and a bomb was detonated there.

The carnage was terrible. Every githyanki on Athas was killed or had their minds destroyed by the psionic devastators, and many more were killed in ensuing attacks by the githzerai. In the ruins of Yathazor, adventurers can encounter a group of sword spirits. They're the remains of githyanki who were trapped in a locked guardroom when the psionic devastator went off, and died screaming in fear of starvation. Their souls attached to their silver swords, leaving them as perpetual guards of the dead city. By the end, no githyanki beyond Athas remembered Yathazor or how to find it. None of them ever returned to the planet, at least none whose visits were recorded, and when Athas was cut off from the rest of the multiverse it was almost completely forgotten.

(The cover of the Black Flames adventure, by Brom.)

The githyanki who remained on Athas were unrecognizable compared to their Astral kin. Not only were they physically changed, their minds were also terribly altered. Afraid, enraged, their violent impulses and survival instinct overrode everything else. Settlements destroyed, they scattered and vanished from Athasian history. From eerie, orderly, urbane Astral warriors, the gith became terrifying, disorganized, feral monsters underground. The impact of the psionic devastators was such that the effects remained for thousands of years afterwards. Any hope the gith might have had of recovering from the calamity was shattered when defiling magic tore Athas to shreds, leaving them with a burned, bleak future.

Continues below cut.

In the modern world, the gith are of relatively little consequence to wider world affairs. Sorcerer-kings, city-states, and political movements mean little in the depths of a blazing desert. In all Dark Sun materials, from 2nd through 5th Editions, the gith appear frequently on random encounter tables or are mentioned as hazards of desert travel. They're organized into tribes and clans, and don't have walled cities or access to defiling magic. (According to the 2E Monstrous Manual, that last may not be true. See p.151.) They mostly live underground to escape the blazing sun, hunting at night and attacking any travelers who dare to brave the desert.

They haven't forgotten everything about their past. In the Black Spine adventure, the gith have maintained connections to Yathazor, treating it with immense respect as a sacred site. If they fight inside the city they leave no bodies behind and require that anyone visiting wear shoes as a gesture of respect. In the 4th Edition Dark Sun Creature Catalog, some gith are mentioned to be seeking fragments of the ancient ship that carried the first githyanki to Athas ages ago.

While just about every available source discusses the gith as "barbaric" and "savage"...I would argue that they're not so different from most other peoples of Athas. The halflings of the mountains are cannibals, just like the gith. The gith use obsidian weapons, illustrated as a beautifully-knapped spearhead in one illustration in the Dark Sun Creature Catalog (p.55), which is absolutely an art form. In Dungeon magazine #110, they even carry bronze weapons--almost impossible on Athas, where metal is so scarce as to be nonexistent. They raise children, who are listed in the Black Flames adventure explicitly as noncombatants. Females lay eggs and, per the 2nd Edition Monstrous Manual, rumor has it that they may operate shared hatcheries containing hundreds of eggs (p.151). Their alignment in the original AD&D Dark Sun campaign setting is listed simply as "chaotic." (Chapter 5, p.93) At least in this edition, they're not evil, simply predatory like everything else in the wastelands.

Society is structured along similar lines to many other Athasian socities: the toughest person is in charge. Here, the leaders of each tribe are those with the greatest psionic power (original Dark Sun setting, Monstrous Manual, Dungeon Magazine #110). Any other positions of authority are distributed at the leader's pleasure. As usual, 4th Edition gives us a different spin: some gith hatched with extraordinary psionic ability are trained not as leaders, but as "drones" with the ability to scald the minds of opponents (Creature Catalog, p55). In addition, elemental shamans and priests hold positions of some power in gith society (Earth, Air, Fire, and Water p.31, Monstrous Manual, Merchant House of Amketch Part 3). A festival, the Ghost Moon feast, is even named and described in Merchant House of Amketch along with a pair of sacred sites.

As often as the gith war with each other, they do get along sometimes. Just like everyone else in Athas, they LOVE gladiatorial games. In the Dragon's Crown adventure, players can even be cordially invited to watch a gladiatorial competition held in a ruined city. Four tribes of gith (over four hundred attendees in all) have come together to settle some issues between the tribes by gladiatorial warfare. Rather than an all-out war, they've found it pragmatic (and more fun) to capture a powerful monster or warrior as a champion for their tribe to fight in the arena. The players can peacefully attend the games, seated near the leaders. One of the party members will even be chosen as a champion for the Skull Smashers tribe. If the player wins, they become an honorary member of the tribe and receive a reward of treasure. If they lose...well, the party is going to have a very bad time.

This isn't the only time the gith get along. In "The Ivory Triangle" sourcebook for 2nd Edition Dark Sun, in the section on the Blackspine Mountains, it's revealed that a leader has begun to unite the gith of the mountains. Formerly simply a horde of disconnected tribes, over five thousand gith in all, the mysterious Blackspear has begun taking control of the tribes. At the present time, he's ruling over about half of the gith in the mountains. Unified gith forces regularly attack merchant caravans and even forts in the mountains, showing remarkable power and cohesion. The future of that area of Athas appears to be at great risk.

And, as I hinted at the beginning of this post, there's other trouble brewing deep beneath the mountains. The githyanki of the Astral Sea have finally found their way to Athas.

Next time, in Part 2, we'll cover a short story in The Ivory Triangle that gives us real insight into gith culture, and wrap up with the Black Spine adventure.

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Footnote: The exact date of the githzerai attack is unknown. However, apparently some Athasian scholars who know this secret history wonder if the explosive psi-waves might have affected other creatures of the planet, humanoid and otherwise. (Black Spine, Adventure Book Two, p.4) The attack might have rendered them more open to the development of psionics. It might have wiped out psionic parasites and allowed widespread development of power. Since the Green Age is stated in The Wanderer's Chronicle, the major 2nd Edition source on the history of the setting, to be the period where psionics truly became widespread on Athas, it's the one I think likeliest to have been when the attack took place.

Footnote Part Two: The dates of the Green Age (14,000-8,000 years before the present) are taken from the 2nd Edition The Wanderer's Chronicle. Placing this against the larger timeline of gith history, all of this took place before the reign of Vlaakith CLVII (157), the current queen who's been on the throne for approximately a thousand years. However, within the Black Spine adventure, the players can encounter a statue of the mysterious, ancient lich-queen. The specific details of Vlaakith's reign didn't get nailed down until 3rd Edition, though, and 5th Edition has altered the details yet again (she's now the only Vlaakith who ever reigned). Due to the sheer volume of sources that reference Vlaakith as being 157th of her name (including Baldur's Gate 3), I choose to lean on that instead of the 5E shift. Exactly how all the dates shake out, though, is really up to you.

Footnote Part Three: 4th Edition's Dark Sun Creature Catalog changes the history of the gith a little. Here, the githyanki never colonized Athas as they did in 2nd Edition, but rather arrived aboard an Astral ship and got trapped behind the Gray. Defiling arcane magic then warped them as it warped the landscape. Due to the paucity of 4th Edition Dark Sun sources, I've chosen to adhere to the 2nd Edition story in this post. Since the history of Athas is so shrouded in mystery, though, this tale might also be true.

[demonologue]

Can we talk about the dragons some more?

I will be. Forever.

Many have already noted the care and detail that went into the design of each dragon, and I love watching the fall of Emon over and over to see new details each time.

But we also see so much of their personalities in this scene, and I love it so much?

Thordak is there to establish dominance, show his power, and accept worshipers, like a true red. He focuses on property damage (yes, people die, too, but that will happen when you nuke a mountain!) and showing off, because he wants lots of the ants in the city to survive. He needs their terrified adoration. We stan all of his "Is this your king?" speeches as he claims his throne.

Umbrasyl is doing what they've been told to do. As the least powerful of the remaining Conclave members, they are raining death from above but not overdoing it. Thordak has no domain and subjects if they melt it all. Bonus content fight between Umbrasyl and KimAllura. (P.S. they're not dead, guys!) I have a big soft spot for Umbrasyl, and I'm curious how much we will get to see the dynamic between the dragons as the story moves forward. They barely get along, and I hope we get to see them interacting with each other more. Something went down between them after Umbrasyl took over Gatshadow, and I want to know what it is that left the black dragon alone and stranded out there with busted palantiri.

Vorugal, it's been mentioned, we don't see a lot of in the fall of Emon. But that's exactly as it should be. Think about it: Vorugal is an elite hunter. They live a solitary life, always seeking more challenging prey to indulge in their favourite pastime. What is the point of destroying a city of helpless ants to Vorugal? So they go for the most challenging targets first, i.e. Allura. I'm disappointed that we didn't get the iconic shot of Vorugal perched on the side of her tower before they destroy it, but at least Vorugal still destroyed it in this version. Then it's almost like they're searching the city for worthy prey, doing the bare minimum to satisfy Thordak's orders. Of course Vorugal tracks them to Greyskull Keep. VM are worthy targets for the white dragon. I'm sad we didn't get to see Vorugal wrestle Thordak for dominance there. That was such a fantastic scene in campaign. Hopefully we'll get to see the two of them butting heads in a different way later on.

And Raishan, clever little pixie. She's just having fun with it. You see her casually flying around the city, blowing smoke here and there before she eats Scanlan's biggest fan. But she knows what she's doing. She killed Uriel with her first attack, and after that she's pretty much like a cat. What can I do that will satisfy Thordak's command but is the most amusing to me? Playing with VM, for one. She makes sure they know who she is, and that she knows who they are. After that, she's going to do what a green dragon does: be sneaky and infiltrate their keep even before they flee to Whitestone. She was a lot more subtle about it in campaign than she is about it here, but we want new viewers to feel like they've spotted something hidden, too (LARKIN WATCH!). Good job. Raishan was the first to give her name during the attack in the campaign, and of course she gave it to us here in the fall of Emon as well. We stan a queen. You'd better put some respect on her name.

Really looking forward to seeing more of her--and all the dragons--this season. Even if they just do cut-aways to their territory or Pike has dream sequences to show what's going on with them, I'll take it. We deserve more than just their death scenes. They are legendary villains and deserve as much love as the Briarwoods.