#having spent way too much time making a timeline of previous games

[kald-dal-art]

Me. Idk making fan characters have never appealed to me personally, huge respect to people who do, but I guess I am not one of you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also me: Okay so I'm pretty sure I have up to 20+ Hunger Games OCs at this point, and more is on the way

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)Chapter 8

Word Count: ~11,260

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; violence; blood; smut

Description: The realm would descend into madness if Rhaenyra was crowned and placed upon the Iron Throne. Not even men declared their bastards as trueborns. Let alone did they dare to make one king.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9

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131 AC- King’s Landing

Life is not without its seasons. There is a time for peace, love, famine, and war. Sickness, heartbreak, hope, and prosperity. Destinies play out until they reach their natural conclusion. Death. In the end, we can not escape our fate, try as we might. Life does not last forever. It is not a permanent condition. The stranger comes for us all in the end. Death waits for no man, not even a king.

The Stranger had visited so very many times in Naerys life. An old friend he had become. A vulture circling its prey. A shadow creeping in the dark. From each of her parents to Laena, Laenor, and Ser Vaemond. It had taken them all. A God's work is never done. As long as there is life, the Stranger will make his appearance known soon enough.

The story of life, however, is not death. It is not even its final act. Death is not the end. It is a reminder of the impermanent nature of life, but not the end. Nothing ever stays the same, but life always finds its way to begin anew.

Death pays for life in many ways. Change is inevitable. Empires rise and fall. The sunrises and the sunsets. Rivers wither and dry up, and snows cover what once was a meadow bed, but life goes on even after death. The cycle continues. Ever repeating. Life waits for no man. Change waits for no one.

Daemon had woken Naerys up the morning after Ser Vaemond’s petition teetering on the edge of pure rapture. They had not left for Dragonstone the previous night. It was too late and their emotions ran high. Naerys had insisted that they stay and leave when the sun rose. Rhaenyra was not a threat to her. There was not much more she could do or say to them. They knew the games she played. Her well had run dry. Her luck ran out.

In her grief, Naerys had wanted her husband to alleviate her pain. Wanting to be oblivious to the world around them for just a night at least. The events of the day had left her spent. Her husband had been all too happy to oblige. Comforting her in his arms. She lost her sorrow there. “Ivestragī aōha kepus gūrogon care hen ao issa dōna riña.” Let your uncle take care of you, my sweet girl.

Daemon had taken her twice that night. The first with her riding him. She had exhausted herself bouncing upon her husband until he had to take over. Laying down upon his warm chest as he fucked up into her. The second time she woke up in tears in the middle of the night. A few soothing words whispered into her temple and strokes down her bare back and she was under him once more.

Rocking her into their bed and tearing her apart leaving them both a heady mess, His cock remained inside of her thereafter. She wrapped herself around him to keep him from leaving, not that he would ever want to do such a thing. His presence anchors her. Naerys hated the feeling of being apart from him. Wanting to cling to him even in her sleep.

Her husband must have pulled out from within her some time ago because she awoke on her back in a heady state of arousal. Drifting in and out on the edge of blissful consciousness. She came to the land of the living to a warm tongue lapping up cream overflowing from her sweet little cunt. Bringing her to her first orgasm of the day. Her uncle had always had a healthy appetite.

The sounds of his feasting on her wetness filled their guest quarters. Naerys buried her hands in her husband's silver strands while he toyed with her small bud at the apex of her vulva, replacing it with his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside her sopping heat. Finding their sensitive target with years of practice, leaving her curling into herself on the cusp of her second peak that morning.

Naerys' body began to quiver before Daemon pulled his mouth from her. Staring up at her from between her thighs. The black of his pupils overtook the violet of his iris as he flitted his gaze at where his fingers were assaulting his niece-wife’s glistening center. A welcoming sight to see if there ever was one. “Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos. Ñuha precious rūs. Māzigon syt issa byka mēre.” That is my good little girl. My precious baby. Come for me, little one.

Her uncle wasted no time bringing back down his mouth to latch his lips upon her puffy little button. Which resulted in her writhing upon their bed. Pleasure overtook Naerys' body. Radiating out from her spasming cunt soaking her husband's digits and the sheets underneath them.

“Muña.” Mother. Daenys light voice and a small knock came through the oak doors of their guest bed chamber. In her hazy state, Naerys thought she had been hallucinating, but then their daughter called for her again. A little more hurried than the first try. “Muña.” Naerys went to push her uncle away, but he pinned her arms down. Placing them at her sides while he let up his feasting with a small groan of annoyance.

“Aōha muñnykeā iksos lodaor engaged paktot sir byka zaldrīzes.” Your mother is otherwise engaged right now, little dragon. She tried with no use to break free of her husband's hold, but Daemon rested his head upon her thigh with a breathless chortle at her attempt. Placing a light slap on the meat of her flesh. Enjoying the sight of the jiggle.

The Rogue Prince did not stop his finger's ministrations from within her, continuing to gently circle her engorged clit with the rough pad of his thumb. Keeping her on the edge of another peak. Naerys had to turn her head into their bed to muffle her moans though the sounds from her dripping cunt were not so easy to ignore. “Māzigon arlī isse nykeā hour. Ao kostagon jenigon pār.” Come back in an hour. You can bother her then. Her husband went back to his first meal of the day. Hoping that would be the last of the interruptions, but their daughter was persistent.

“Ziry kostagon daor umbagon kepa.” It can not wait father. She called out again. This time Daemon did not stop her when she pushed him away. Letting out a huff of irritation that matched her own displeasure at her ruined climax. He climbed up her body and bent down so that she may taste herself before she rose from their bed. Heading to her dressing chambers with a slight wobble to her step and the taste of her own slick on her tongue. Naerys put on a light dress black laced with Velaryon blue. The late summer air in Kings Landing was warm. She did not need more than that.

When she entered their chambers solar, she found that Daemon had gotten up and put on his nightshirt and robe. He sat in his chair by the morning's low fire with Daenys hand in his as he laughed at something their daughter had said. His violet eyes crinkled around the corners of his face. Naerys enjoyed the sight that her favorite pair made.

Daenys was the first to notice her mother’s appearance in the doorway. Her mother noted that she did not look too distressed. Whatever matter she had to tell her could not be that worrying. With a kiss on her father's cheek, the girl took her hand and led her out of their quarters. Promising Daemon that they would be back before morning's end. Rushing her mother out to avoid her father could question where she was taking her.

Daenys led her mother in the direction of the small council. Another ambush she supposed, but it was not the time. “My love it is early.” She tried to pull her daughter closer lest the prying ears of the Red Keep hear them. Rhaenyra or those who she found in her favor could be lurking around. She would rather avoid another run-in, but the girl continued on.

“Do not fret. We will—“ The sight of Alicent interrupted her train of thought. The queen looked grave, weary no doubt from the care of her husband, but relieved to see them. Naerys peered around Alicent expecting to see Aemond, but the younger prince was nowhere to be seen.

“Thank you Daenys.” The Hightower queen took Daenys hand to give it a small squeeze. Ser Criston stood at her side like a sentry. His tan face was unreadable though he offered her a princess as a way of greeting. Naerys hesitated but her daughter bent down to whisper in her ear.

“Please hear them out muña. For my sake.” Daenys placed a faint peck on her cheek before heading down the hall in the direction of Helaena’s chambers. Naerys let out a sigh as she made her way through the council chamber's open doorway. There was no harm in hearing whatever Alicent had to say. They had a common interest after all. Perhaps combined they might be able to convince Viserys and Daemon to betroth Daenys to Aemond and end the charade.

Naerys was not surprised to see Ser Otto standing at the head of the small council chambers, but she was surprised to see Lord Jasper Wylde, Lord Beesbury, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Lord Larys seated along with Lord Commander Ser Westerlings. No one spared her a second glance apart from Ser Otto and Lord Strong.

The first greeted her as Ser Criston had. His expression held no truths like the Dornish knight. The second man she had always found to be unsettling. The newest Lord Strong had never been unkind to her. Quite the opposite in fact, but she could sense the darkness underneath his overly friendly smiles.

Laena had never liked her good brother and she got on with nearly everyone she met. “You must watch his eyes, dear little cousin.” The eyes told all. Naerys did not miss the way Alicent seemed to be startled by his presence either when she thought no one was looking. Or how she kept her children away from the Lord of Harrenhal.

Ser Tyland Lannister arrived not a moment after her. He paused at first seeing her. Naerys had never been to a council meeting. Seeing her there must have been a queer sight. An obvious sign something was not quite right. The master of ships took his seat at the end of the table. It was clear that this meeting was not about her daughter’s betrothal. A marriage plot was not at foot. At least not only a marriage plot.

Ser Tyland was the first to speak, directing his question at the Lord Hand. He seemed to be just as clueless as Naerys though he seemed not to be perturbed by the possible nature of this meeting. He was as vain as always. Making a joke of it in the way that those of his house were fond of doing. “What is it that could not wait an hour? Has Dorne invaded?”

“The king is dead.” Ser Otto wasted no time. Naerys dropped into her chair. It was not shocking. It should not be shocking. Most of Viserys had rotted away a lifetime ago. He was a shell of his former self. The stranger had clung to him far longer than perhaps he had even meant to. His time had come. His reign had come to an end. The age of peace that had lasted in Westeros since her great grandsire the Old King Jaehaerys had come to an end. The next one would be more uncertain than the last.

Daemon was Naerys' first concern. Her husband loved his brother beyond reason. A brother who defended him despite every accusation thrown his way. A brother who he had worshiped. A brother he had wanted to be as close to as possible at one point. His first champion was dead. It made sense why she had been sent instead of him.

Though older now and a bit more reasonable the Rogue Prince had well earned his moniker. He would have no doubt throttled the Lord Hand or plunged Dark Sister into his belly if it was not taken away at the mere mention of his brother's death. Accusing him of schemes and plots to do away with his brother.

Naerys was lost in her own thoughts until she heard the mention of Aegon’s name. King. They wanted to crown him king. Plans which had been made would at long last be set into motion. Plans on who to replace amongst those who were loyal to Rhaenyra. With luck, the crown Princess had left the capital for Driftmark at Princess Rhaenys invitation. Now was the time to strike! Where ravens needed to be sent to call upon their dearest allies in the reach, riverlands, and the westerlands.

Prince Daeron, who was being fostered with his newly lorded Hightower cousin in Oldtown, needed to be sent for or at least prepared for what would come. An envoy was needed for an alliance with House Baratheon. No one seemed shocked to hear of such arrangements apart from herself, the Lord Commander, and Lord Beesbury.

Lord Beesbury was the one to voice his displeasure at hearing such plots. Reminding them all of the loyalty that they owed to Princess Rhaenyra. The king's chosen heir. The rightful heir. The lords of the realm had sworn oaths of loyalty. Visery had stayed true to his daughter. They could not go back on their words now. What was a man without his word? To do so would descend the seven kingdoms into chaos. To place Aegon on the throne would be to place a pretender at the helm.

Lord Jasper and Ser Tyland refuted his arguments in rapid succession. Aegon was not just some lord or some prince. He was the king's son. His eldest son. The king could have changed his mind. Finally coming to his senses in the end. The oaths of loyalty to Rhaenyra were made half a lifetime ago. A great many of the knights and lords who had sworn them were dead. The Great Council of 101 AC had set a precedent a male heir came before his female relations. It would be a profound error to crown her queen on the wishes of a dead man who could never put aside his remorse.

Lord Beesbury turned to Naerys. She had some authority. She was a princess in her own right and a member of House Targaryen. She could lend her voice and join him in his reason. Surely she could see past this foolishness.

This was disloyalty of the highest order, but Naerys could not agree with the reach lord. He could not truly ask her to defend her cousin's claim. Not after she had tormented her and her marriage. For years without end. Dangling the promise of sons in front of Daemon’s face. Sons that the younger princess could never give their uncle. Sons he had so desperately wanted.

The events of yesterday were too fresh in her mind. The old lord had not been present for the petition, but he must have heard the goings on around court. Of what happened to her uncle. The image of Ser Vaemond’s headless body being carried away to be fed to Syrax was a hard one to shake.

Rhaenyra might have been the king's chosen heir, but Aegon was well within his rights to claim the Iron Throne for himself. No matter how unfit he may be, and both he and his sister had the temper and gluttony of their house in equal measure, he was the rightful heir by the laws of men and Gods alike. Sons came before daughters, even younger sons.

Viserys had been wrong not to put aside Rhaenyra in favor of her brother, but he had a guilty conscience. The memories of his first wife and what he had done to her plagued his very soul. Haunting him till his dying day. Till his dying breath no doubt. He could not let down the daughter as he had the mother and the realm would be left to deal with his weakness. The seven kingdoms would pay for a dragon's pride.

There was also the issue of the legitimate line of succession should Rhaenyra be crowned queen. Her only heirs were bastards. Sweet gentle boys, but bastards nonetheless. One could not seat a bastard upon the Iron Throne. Placing Rhaenyra on that very throne would cause more of a headache in the long run than it was worth.

Lord Beesbury was not fazed by the silence in favor of Rhaenyra’s claim. Standing on his own in face of the opposition. He would not be deterred. He had known the king's wishes. He would not go back on his word. The lord was a man of integrity and honor. He had not forgotten where his loyalty lay.

A man’s honor. His honor. The path of righteousness, or a form of it, at court rarely led to recognition or a favorable outcome. Lord Beesburys defense of Rhaenyra could be considered honorable, but honor was worth little within the pale stone walls of the Red Keep.

“This is seizure!” The lord’s last protests. The old lord stood up from his chair to look around the room. Accusing everyone. “It is theft! It is treason at the least!” Grand Maester Orwyle, who had been quiet up until now, advised him to mind his tongue before it landed him into trouble, but the lord continued on despite the advice of the dark maester. Making his gravest accusation against the council yet. Regicide.

Naerys held her breath. If her husband had been there with them he would have been in agreement. His misplaced grief would lead him to it. Searching for someone to blame for his brother's end, they all knew the truth.

The king's death was a natural one and a long time in the making. Lord Jasper asked the reach lord who he suspected of the murder, but he could not say. The king was dead and he believed it was at their hands. “Whether it was one of you or all of you I care not. I will have no part-” With a swift push of his head into the table Ser Criston had been the one to silence Lord Lyman Beesbury before he could finish his allegations and take leave of the council to alert his queen.

Lord Bessbury’s skull had been punctured by the marble ball he had placed in front of him. Vicious crimson fluid spilled out from the side of his head onto the small council table. Grand Maester Orwyle went to check for signs of life, but it was a wasted effort. The blow had killed him instantly.

It could have been an accident. It was more than likely one, but the force Ser Criston used had been excessive. The queen looked shocked by her loyal knight's actions reaching out to grasp Naerys arm when she jumped in fright. Ser Criston himself could not take his dark eyes of the old lord's lifeless body

The Lord Commander stood shocked as the rest of them, but he pulled out his blade once the surprise had worn off. Seeing what could happen Ser Tyland quickly moved out of the way lest he be caught in the crossfire. Ser Westerlings asked his subordinate to vacate his position on the Kingsguard and turn in his sword and cloak immediately. He had killed a defenseless man. He was not worthy to wear the white cloak of Kingsguard. He would stain it with his misdeeds.

Ser Criston would not hear of it. Pulling out his own sword in defense. “I will not suffer insults to her grace the queen.” The two men stood at odds. Staring at each other from the tips of their weapons. The Dornish knight only lowered his blade once his queen assured him that she had not been insulted.

Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that Lord Beesburys body be removed, but Ser Otto held him off. They had business yet to discuss. Council reconvened as a steady stream of blood leaked from the dead lord's head.

The issue of Storms End and its lord became the next topic for consideration, but Naerys remained lost in her fright. Images of Ser Vaemond’s headless corpse and Lord Beesburys combined. Each death played over in her mind. The first acts of violence before the ensuing chaos. Statements. Each of them. It hit her then. The true meaning of this meeting. They were going to war. That is why she had been called for.

“Do you plan on killing Rhaenyra?” A sense of dread led her to ask the question. Naerys did not need an answer for it. Alicent would do anything to insure her children's safety. Ser Otto held little love for the would-be queen and had always thirsted for her uncle's throne.

“Princess, a living challenger invites battle and bloodshed.” The Grand Maester supplied her with as if she was a halfwit. What could she expect? It was a sacrifice that had to be made in order to usher in Aegon’s peaceful reign. She knew the logic behind it. The younger princess herself was finding it difficult to feel sympathy for her cousin at times, but she did not wish for her death.

“Perhaps my aunt might help her to see sense.” There had to be another way around it. Rhaenyra was many things, but not even she deserved death. She was no real threat anyway. If someone were to get her to recognize her younger brother’s claim and conceded to it she would be no threat.

If Rhaenys could convince the younger princess to bow out gracefully there would be no need for bloodshed. She was a woman with bastards for heirs and a thinning list of allies. She could not challenge Aegon.

“Do you believe that your cousin would extend the same courtesy to you princess if you were in her position?” Ser Otto stood up to stand behind her chair. “Do you not wonder what Rhaenyra might do if she is crowned queen?” The Hightower knight grabbed her hand. Admiring the dark bruise on her brown skin from where the would-be queen had clawed at her on the way to Ser Vaemond’s petition yesternoon. “She has always been less than fond of you and overly fond of your husband.” He placed a pat on her hand before he released her. “A queen’s limits are few to none.”

When Naerys did not protest further, sitting in a half-daze, Ser Otto called for Lord Commander Westerlings to take his knights to Dragonstone and do away with Rhaenyra. The commander's reply was to turn in his cloak. He served the king and would continue to do so. He would not kill the king's heir. A woman he had known since her girlhood. Ser Westerlings left without another word.

“Ser Tyland is right.” Naerys unsteady voice interrupted the heavy silence that had fallen over the council chambers in the wake of Ser Westerlings' unexpected departure. “Lord Baratheon will side with you if you offer him a betrothal.”

She grabbed hold of her own bruised arm. Rubbing her wrist as she brought it to her chest to calm her nerves. “He does not hold his cousin in high regard.” The present lord of Storm's End had always cared little for his cousin. Viewing his late father's devotion to Rhaenys as a misplaced effort. “He holds less affection for Rhaenyra and her sons.” The man never and he had sworn no oaths of loyalty as his father had.

“Daeron would do nicely for the eldest of Lord Borros’ daughters then Ser Otto went back to his seat looking pleased though he tried his best to hide it. Alicent took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and offered her a small smile. Color was returning to the queen's cheeks.

“He would prefer Aemond.” Aemond was third in the line of succession and second if the realm wanted stability. The Baratheons were not overly ambitious, but they did have enough self-importance to make up for it. Especially Borros Baratheon who was a brute if there ever was one. To offer him a third son for his eldest daughter might be seen as a slight. They were descended from a dragonseed after all and they were a great house. They wanted their fair share.

“Aemond is already spoken for.” Daenys. Her willful girl. Her daughter had made a deal without her. She and Aemond. Naerys could not be surprised. The two young dragons wanted each other just as much as the other.

Alicent would not deny her second son what he desired nor would her father say a word against the match. Dragonstone had long been sought. It would even the odds in the war to come. Ser Otto would not let it get away even if it was for a Baratheon. At any rate, Lord Baratheon would not don his war hammer in favor of a queen who he detested. Daeron would have to do for them.

Naerys felt a mixture of emotions on her walk back to their chambers. Unease being the chief among them. The Red Keep was eerily quiet. Ser Otto had ordered half of the court to be locked within their chambers or made to swear oaths of loyalty to their new king whose present location was unknown.

Those that refused were placed in the Black Cells beneath Maegor's Holdfast while they searched for Aegon. They could keep their honor and loyalty, but they would wither away in it. The princess’s aunt Rhaenys had been among those who were confined to their quarters. That matter would have to be dealt with later. There were more pressing issues to deal with now

The princess would have to tell Daemon of his brother's fate. She would have to break the news to her husband. She would have to walk a delicate balance. Naerys knew her husband. His reaction to Viserys' passing would not be pleasant.

For all the bitter disagreements throughout their long years between the two men she knew what they meant to each other. Naerys knew how Daemon felt about his elder brother. He loved, worshiped, and resented him in equal measure in various degrees throughout his life. Death would not vanquish his sentiments.

Viserys always stood out of reach. Keeping him at an arm's length had frustrated his younger brother to no end, especially in his younger years. He was the second son desperate to belong somewhere. To be at his brother's side. He had been born for it. In another life. If circumstances were different. If they were different they would have been more. Targaryen's obsession with blood purity dictated it, but in this life, he had to forge his own path.

True enough the Rogue Prince was no longer blinded by his feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing. He had grown to see past his own lusts and wants. To see past himself. To find unselfish happiness and devotion to something more than just Targaryen tradition and customs. While admirable it did not change the fact that his brother in many ways had been his first love.

Naerys came back to their bed chambers to find her husband putting on his riding leathers. Their servants had come in and left. Most of what they had brought had been packed away. “Daenys needs to stop bothering my brother.” Daemon let out an amused sigh greeting her with a grin as he motioned his wife over to help him button his undershirt.

“If she keeps this up he won’t make it till the end of the moon much less the year. She gets that from you, you know. Your beautiful stubbornness.” He kissed her forehead. Naerys tried to distract herself with her task at hand. Each second would bring her closer to having to tell of all that had happened. Daemon was always two steps ahead. Noticing that she had not met his eyes once since she arrived back to their guest chambers. With a stroke down her soft cheek, he took her face between his rough hands to bring her gaze up to meet his.

Her husband's eyes darkened when she began to worry at her plump little lip. Taking the offending feature between her teeth to calm her nerves as Daemon stared down at her. “What did they do?” His eyes traveled across her face. He could see the look in her amethyst orbs. He knew.

Naerys could never hide anything from him, try as she might. She had always been a terrible actress. Her uncle could always sniff her out without her even having to say so much as a word. “What did they do to my brother? She knew that his ire was not directed at her, but he would, sure enough, try to find some target for his anger. The princess reached up a small hand to stroke her husband's pale cheek mirroring his actions in the hope that it would provide him comfort in the wake of such news.

“Viserys died in the middle of the night kepus.” Naerys swallowed hard and released a breath that she had been holding back. She felt her eyes watering. It was unexpected and not completely surprising when her husband collapsed. Falling to his knees and burying his pale face into her stomach. “I am so sorry.” She caressed his pale head placing a kiss upon it. The bond of brothers. Targaryen brothers at that. They had shared more than blood. Daemon had never lived in a world without him. He had always been there. Waiting.

“That bitch he calls—called his wife poisoned him.” His voice was muffled as he spoke it into her skirts. Venom was clear in his gravelly voice. She knew he did not really mean it. Viserys had looked worse for wear for the past ten years. He had grown ill so very long ago. Aegon had been ready as ever to take the throne for just as long. If Alicent and father had wanted Viserys gone they would have done so moons ago.

“He did not have to marry her. He had Rhaenyra. He had me.” It was said more to himself. The slight that had never been righted. Daemon had been his heir even before Rhaenyra. He had been good enough, but Viserys still sought to deny him his rights. To replace him with others when he had been right there. His rejection still stung. “I could have provided him with heirs. We could have. Worthy heirs.”

“You did your duty to him. There is nothing left that you could have done for your brother.” She tried to soothe her husband's brooding thoughts. His regret. The last of his wants and needs to be accepted by his brother would never be fully realized, but he had been more than adequate.

Naerys placed another kiss on his silver head. Petting the strands with a practiced hand. There was no way to stop Viserys' fate. There was no point in worrying about the past. Of what could have been. All her husband could do was grieve for his loss. “He’s at peace now, kepus. He does not have to suffer more.”

Daemon let himself be comforted by his wife. Letting her soothe his inner turmoil with soft strokes to his white head. He was like a child in her hands. A child who needed reassurance. He would do the same for Naerys. He had done the same. It was only right that she provided him with a balm to his mournful soul.

It was no surprise when her husband sprung up from his kneeling position. Cupping her face between his hands before crashing his mouth upon hers in a searing kiss. Making quick work of their clothes as he does so as to bring her to their bed. Tumbling on top of the freshly made linen without breaking apart. Never forgetting her needs, Daemon moved a strong hand down to Naerys center. It did not take much to arouse her. Merely igniting the flame from earlier that morning with his skilled fingers.

Daemon plunged his hard length into her willing channel in a matter of minutes. Driving in and out of her sopping heat with a frenzy. The sounds of their lovemaking overtook their guest quarters. No words were exchanged between them. Only a symphony of grunts, whimpers, and moans.

There was no battle. She let him use her like she was a doll. His doll. She was his beloved lady wife after all. He was well within his rights to gorge himself and slack his lusts and pent up emotions on her supple flesh.

Their coupling is not unkind. Daemon was not truly rough. Only impassioned. It was never unpleasant, not even in his anger and hurt. Whatever ill feelings he held within dissipated. He drew as much comfort from her as she does from him. Give and take. Equals in their own way. All too soon he spills his seed inside her. Her own peak followed not moments after from his continued pressure and small rough circles made upon her little pearl.

As they lay in a sweaty naked heap of bare limbs upon the now-ruined bed the chamber descended into silence. Daemon remained half hard inside of his wife, keeping their combined spends from leaking out onto what was once clean sheets. He was far from being down with her as he rested his head upon her breast.

Daemon occasionally took a nipple within his mouth to suckle upon. Leaving her little brown peaks engorged and themselves in a constant state of arousal. He was sated. Naerys continued to console and dote upon her husband as he returned and basked in her affections with a tight grip on her person. It was a spell before either spoke again. “Skoros gaomagon se vipers jaelagon?” What do the vipers want?

Daemon lifted his head from her breasts to gaze down at his niece. His face was still ashen, but she could see that he would heal from this setback. Some of the mischief had returned to his violent orbs. Naerys felt relief. He would come to terms with the nature of his brother's death. “Skoros gōntan pōnta call ao syt byka mēre?” What did they call you for little one?

Daemon was not stupid. He knew what Viserys death entailed. Why they had called his wife to a council meeting instead of himself. It was not just his propensity for violence that caused them to seek out Naerys to deliver the news. No, above all else the schemers and lackwits that had run his late brother’s court and council wanted a mother’s heart. A mother’s gentleness would convince a dragon of a father to see the merit past the blatant ambition.

“Aōha tala se Aemond jaelagon naejot dīnagon.” Your daughter and Aemond wish to wed. It was better to start out with words of love. To remind him of the familial bond he shared with Aemond. To dance around Otto’s true aim. Dragonstone.

Naerys knew that they saw Daenys as a means to secure their seat and the arsenal it held, but that did not mean that was an absence of fondness. Of care and affection on the part of the young people around. It was their duty as Targaryen’s to marry for the good of their house. Why not wed the two who wished to be together? Perhaps duty and love could coincide. No matter how rare, it would not be the first case of it nor the last.

Daemon was not heartless. He could be rash, but even a dragon's heart could bend to those who laid a claim to him. He loved Daenys. He would die for her as he would live for her. As they all would. Let his love for his daughter sway him towards acceptance of the union.

“Ziry iksos tolī hāeda.” She is too young. An excuse. A poor one at that. Daemon himself had wedded and bedded her when she had been little older than their daughter and he was twice her age. Aemond was only a cousin rather than an uncle. There was a mere six years between the two. Her uncle had no room to talk.

Naerys would not usually push the issue, war or no war, but the two did care for each other. Daenys had been smitten with her older cousin since she could talk and Aemond was a stern enough though devoted boy. Matches were made with less. Her own had. She barely knew her uncle when she was thrust upon him.

“They love one another.” That counted for everything. It had to. “If we do not agree to it, she will be lost to us.” Daenys had too much of her father’s spirit. She would play nice for now, but her desire would win out. Aemond was little better. He had inherited the dragon's blood. All fire and blood willing to burn for each other. It was sweet if not a little terrifying.

“Skoros would ao gaomagon lo ao could daor emagon issa? What would you do if you could not have me?” Naerys brought a hand up to caress his jaw. Clenching her heat around her uncle’s member. It was playing dirty, but she was left with no choice. Daemon had said that she was made for him. She had been what he needed and he reviled in her light.

The Rogue Prince would gladly commit every sin according to the gods old, new, and anyone else in between for her. He had threatened to live in sin to have her. Was it truly damning to have someone you wanted by your side? If an old dragon could not be made to give up what he desired, what made him think that two young dragons would give in to his commands?

Aemond and Daenys could not be stopped even on Daemon's account. They were both young, hot-tempered, and too caught up with each other. The two would force her father’s hand if he did not give his blessing willingly. A scandal that could be avoided if the old prince saw reason.

“Ziry iksos nykeā Hightower.” He is a Hightower. Daemon brought his forehead down to nuzzle hers as his violet eyes closed shut. He breathed his wife in as he held back a groan from his wife’s inner walls fluttering around his cock. She would be the death of him, oh but what a blissful end it would be.

Naerys tried and failed to stifle her laugh which turned to a whimper when Daemon rocked up into her swollen cunt. A playful punishment for her cheek. Kicking a poor man while he was down. Her husband had acted like a spoiled child who seemed to take joy out of denying his nephew. He was running out of excuses and they both knew it.

“Ziry iksos aōha lēkia tresy.” He is your brother’s son. Aemond was a Targaryen even if his mother was a Hightower. Targaryen’s appeared to always be meant for another. He loved Daenys and she loved him. There could be no argument about their feelings toward each other. There was certainly no argument that could be made on who would be more suited for her than Aemond. “Who would you rather have her marry?”

A part of Naerys knew why her husband hesitated to wed the two. It was more than a father's overprotective nature rearing its ugly head. Targaryen’s were a special lot. There was no denying that. Blood belonged with blood. Daemon had wanted his blood for his daughter. It was more than just a want for an heir. He wanted a son for Daenys. It was natural. It was what was expected. His parents had a natural blood mate as had their parents. Why not his daughter?

But Naerys had failed to give birth to a living son. Daemon would never hold it against her, but she knew why he resented Aemond’s presence so much. He stood as a reminder of what could have been. Perhaps in another life things were different, and things were just as they should be, but in this one, their nephew would have to do.

Another part of her, the naive young princess that her husband had first married, wondered if he had truly found peace. If he were as happy as he claimed to be. He defended her to no end, but she still could not stop the dark thoughts that roamed around in the back of her head.

To marry Daenys to Aemond would mean cutting off Rhaenyra for good. To side against his niece. His first niece. The princess he had originally put all of his hopes and desires into. There would be no going back if he chose this path. A war would permanently separate the two.

There was always another option. Daemon could choose to honor Viserys' wish. His brother's last decree. To marry Daenys to Joffrey. To take up for Rhaenyra’s cause. To give her the legitimacy she so desired. To crown her queen.

Daemon did not miss a beat. He kissed away the worry that washed upon Naerys little brow from her troubling thoughts. Sighing into her temple. Not for the first time did he regret his treatment of his little wife during the first moons of their marriage. He should have told her of his sooner of his feelings toward her, but he had been too clouded by his own conceit and resentment.

He had almost lost her in her attempts to prove herself worthy. She, apart from their daughter, meant more to him than all the breath in his body. His brave gentle girl. He did not deserve her yet he had her heart and devotion nonetheless. He should have stayed away from her. Let her marry one of her Velaryon cousins as Ser Vaemond had planned, but he had been too selfish. Too greedy to be denied her. If he couldn’t have Rhaenyra he’d have his other niece for a wife. Daemon was better off for it in the end.

“Ziry jāhor emagon naejot sagon gaomagon gō aegon iksos crowned.” It will have to be done before Aegon is crowned. He whispered it to his little wife. Conceding at long last. Neither Ser Otto nor the prince would trust one another before the deed was done. Too much bad blood stood in the way without the tie of kinship keeping them from harming each other.

“Se Zaldrīzes Ripo jāhor emagon naejot gaomagon.” The Dragonpit will have to do. The Rogue Prince would not have his daughter marry in a sept and they did not have time to journey to Dragonstone and back to wed her in the proper place. Naerys felt the bulk of her woe disappear as she let out a breath of relief which quickly turned into a moan. Her husband had captured her mouth in another sweet yet feverish kiss.

There was no need to prepare themselves for their next round of coupling. With a swift thrust, Daemon was once more buried deep within her love-soaked heat. Where he belonged. The day was still early. They could worry about the ceremony later. Right now her husband had need of her. He was still grieving after all.

Mid-afternoon descended upon the Red Keep before Daemon ceased his amorous affections. He had left his wife feeling achingly sore and reluctant to leave their bed chamber, but there was much to still be done. The castle was in a somber state of half mourning as they prepared for their new king's coronation on the morrow.

Aegon had been located, but the soon-to-be king was found in a drunken state hiding within the Grand Sept. He was dragged back to the Red Keep by a disappointed Ser Criston and a disgruntled Aemond.

The lecherous prince protested bitterly against taking up his late father’s mantle. He did not wish to see himself seated upon the Iron Throne. The boy had some awareness. Naerys would give him that. “Let my sister have it or one of my brothers. I don't care! I do not want it!” If it was up to Daemon she knew that he would place Aemond in his stead with Daenys at his side. Their grandson would be the future king.

The realm might be better for it, but they had chosen the side of duty and order or at least the appearance of it. Aegon would be made king whether he wanted it or not. It was not an issue with which Naerys would concern herself. His mother and grandsire had it well within hand. Rhaenys was at the forefront of her mind now.

“Are my granddaughters safe?” Her aunt's unnaturally cold voice greeted her before she could even shut the door to her chambers turned holding cell. Rhaenys stood facing her windows. The shutters were closed leaving the fire and freshly lit candles to provide light on the eve of the dying day. The older princess' body was rigid as she stared out below at the sweltering capital.

“They arrived safely back to Driftmark this morning.” She reached out to lend a reassuring hand but the older woman flinched away. It stung as Naerys moved her arm back to her side. Wringing her wrist to keep her hands busy. “No one will go after them.” She would not stand for it. She would allow it.

Naerys owed Laena who had been a sister to her in all but name. She would not see any harm come to her late cousin's daughters. Laena would do the same for her. At any rate, the Greens did not have any quarrel with either Baela or Rhaena. They were mere girls who had the misfortune to be betrothed to their bastard half-brothers. “You have my word aunt.”

“The word of jailers and traitors means little to me Naerys.” Rhaenys finally turned her rapidly graying head around to face her. Narrowing her violet eyes in cool inspection. The younger princess tried her best not to cower under her good aunt's gaze. It is a funny thing how we revert into the children we once were from something as simple as a disapproving glare.

“Aegon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.” Naerys held her ground. Her aunt let out a huff in amusement. As if her words were so ridiculous. Truth had become humorous in the face of lies that they had told for so very long. Mayhaps she had even forgotten it. What a strange world they lived in. “From where I stand, Rhaenyra is the traitor.”

“Traitor to what exactly?” Rhaenys would not lend her candor to the situation. She had made her bed with Rhaenyra. She would not give in now no matter the truth. It need not be said. They could skirt around it for all they like. The truth after all was a fickle thing that changed as easily as a late summer breeze. “She is the king's chosen heir.” That meant little now and they both knew it. To crown Rhaenyra queen would be folly.

“She has obvious bastards for heirs.” Her aunt could not even refute it. It may not be treason per se, but it was chaos. The realm would descend into madness if Rhaenyra was crowned and placed on the Iron Throne. Not even men declared their bastards as trueborn. Let alone did they dare to make one king, but her cousin had Targaryen conceit in abundance. “The realm can not withstand her reign.”

“You are so quick to tear another woman down Naerys.” It was Naerys turn to let out a snort in amusement. Though she did not flinch back as she had when the older princess reached out to admire a silver curl with a sneer. She had forgotten that her aunt was a Targaryen like the rest of them. A dragon rider with a dragon’s heat.

“I thought I taught you better than that.” Her aunt knew good and well why she would not side with her cousin. Rhaenys had been there when Rhaenyra tried to accuse her of treason. Her cousin had judged her to be an enemy and wanted her head just as she had wanted Ser Vaemond’s.

“We would not be in this mess if you had not let them steal your crown out from under you.” The Naerys spat out. She would not be dismissed as a woman acting out of malice and spite. If her aunt wanted cruelty she would show it to her. If she wanted to hurt. She would hurt back. It was petty, but she had reason enough. She would not cower and hide like a frightened girl.

The Queen Who Never Was. Naerys knew how Rhaenys hated it. Hated being called it by those closest to her. The constant reminders from her uncle the late Lord Boremund Baratheon. Whispers from her husband Lord Corlys. Even Ser Vaemond’s mocking sneers

Rhaenys was the firstborn daughter of the firstborn son. She was the rightful heir, but the Old King wanted a male heir to succeed him rather than his late son's daughter. Her position as heir died the moment her father had.

Rhaenys was passed over thrice. First by her uncle, Naerys grandsire, then Naerys father, and finally Viserys. The crown should have gone to her, but it went to a worthy successor with only a whimper of a protest and that came from her uncle the Sea Snake. Her aunt had always said she had gotten over the slight, but she could see a brief flash of envy in her violet eyes sometimes when they gazed upon the Iron Throne, Viserys, or even Rhaenyra.

“You talk of the good of the realm. Everything I have done has been for the good of the realm.” Her aunt's face was set in stone. Her eyes held little light in them. Years of practice made the lack of emotion on the subject appear natural on her pale visage. “If I recall your mother made the same decision when she let Viserys take your crown as well niece.” Though her tone was not biting, Rhaenys curled her lips in a jeer. A blow for a blow.

“My mother did not even have the support of her own brothers.” True enough, Ser Vaemond had supported her father’s claim, but he did not put up much of a fight once Prince Aenys had been sent to an early grave. Lord Corlys had offered his protection. He would never let a hand raise in harm against his only sister or his babe niece, but he offered little else.

“She had no choice! I was a child! You had the might of House Velaryon at your disposal. You had a dragon!” At the time, only Daemon had claim to a full-grown dragon. Little stood in her way. “You had a son who would rule after, yet you still gave up your crown for a man not even worthy to rule Dragonstone, let alone the Seven Kingdoms!”

Viserys was a weak man who spread disease and poison wherever he went. He played the role of peacemaker, but he caused more damage than all of them. Trampling on tradition while he gained everything he had ever had from it. “You won’t even stand up to her husband to make Baela heir.”

“Do not lecture me niece.” Rhaenys laughed. It was a bitter one this time. “Everything I do is for my granddaughters.” The years of pent-up frustration brewing finally bubbled over at the surface. “You are a mother now Naerys. You ought to know better. You are a woman grown now. Since you are so concerned with who is a worthy heir, push for your claim and your daughters. Ask the Greens that you side with to call for a Great Council. Ask your husband to start a war for you. See where that gets you!”

She did not doubt that Daemon would start a war of succession for her. It was well within his nature, but there was no denying that it would only end in needless bloodshed. Naerys had no sons and no means to provide the realm with them other than Daenys. While the smallfolk might love their Rogue Prince the lords of the land were less than fond of her uncle and would like him less as their King consort.

Truth be told it was a relief in a way that she had not been made queen. Aegon was right. Above all the Iron Throne was a curse more than it was something to covet and hold in one’s possession.

“Our house finally has the chance to seat a woman upon the throne and yet you stand in your cousin's way the same as the men who stood in our way.” Perhaps Rhaenys had deluded herself into thinking that Rhaenyra would be a just and fair ruler. Perhaps Rhaenyra might be a good queen, but Naerys would have no part in helping her cousin to the throne.

This went beyond who was worthy of holding the throne. “You side with the men of the realm just the same.” Her aunt tried one last time, but it was in vain. Naerys would not be bullied into acceptance by a hypocrite who sided with a woman who had made her own daughter's marriage a misery. “We all must make sacrifices Naerys.”

“She accused me of treason.” After ripping out the tongues of her Velaryon cousins and ordering the beheading of her uncle no less. Naerys would no longer dance around the truth. She could not. She had the bruise to prove Rhaenyra’s intent for her. If it was not for her husband's affection toward her, her head would surely be in Syrax’s belly next to Ser Vaemond’s. “Forgive me if I am not so sympathetic to her plight.”

“I will send for someone to deliver you to your granddaughters.” There were still those loyal to the crown princess. It would not take much to sneak her out of the Red Keep. She could enlist Ser Westerlings' help if need be.

Naerys would not see Baela and Rhaena alone in this world. The girls had been through so much. They would undoubtedly be pushed aside if their grandmother was not there to protect and defend them. Even if it meant giving Rhaenyra one more dragon rider, Laena's girls needed her.

Rhaenys reached out to grasp Naerys. Seemingly releasing the mistake in her chastisement. She had been too cruel, but the younger princess flinched away. Pulling open the chamber doors she did not turn around to face her aunt. She could not do so without crumbling. “Good luck aunt.” Making her way back into the hall Naerys let out a silent prayer to the Mother that she would not meet her in worse circumstances than this.

Aemond and Daenys wedding ceremony was a quiet and hurried affair. Neither she nor her cousin turned nephew turned good-son seemed disappointed by this fact. A septon had been procured with surprising speed, but Daemon insisted that he would officiate the ceremony. After of course he had called his soon-to-be good-son to their chambers for a pre-wedding bonding of sorts.

“If you ever hurt my daughter.” Her husband sat upon his armchair polishing Dark Sister in his sword hand. His other pale hand he placed upon Aemond’s shoulder. “If I find out that you have ever made her unhappy.” He gestured to the blade in his grasp. Twirling it around with a small smirk that did not reach his darkened eyes. He looked every bit the vengeful Valyrian God of old. “This will find a home in that empty hole you call your eye, sweet nephew.”

The younger prince did not flinch at his uncle's words. Only bowing his head slightly. “I would gladly accept that fate, nuncle.” It was his simple reply. One that seemed to satisfy Daemon who got up from his chair to place a heavy pat on Aemond’s with a mirthless chortle.

Naerys did not doubt Aemond’s sincerity. He was utterly devoted to Daenys. She had not seen him so much as looked at another maiden. He was not a drunken lustful fool like his older brother nor was he neglectful as his father had been.

He had some darkness in him, but it was familiar. The same darkness she saw in her own husband. The same need to prove himself as a second son, but he was overall a dutiful Targaryen prince. In any case, Naerys would burn Aemond herself with Silverwings' help if he was ever untrue to their daughter.

Daenys' lady companion, a bubbly girl of ten and six who was the daughter of their steward, had brought Naerys wedding robes to the Red Keep at the young princess's request. To that, her mother could not be surprised. It was clear that her daughter had not planned on leaving Kings Landing without what or rather who she wanted.

Helaena had taken care to pin flowers picked by her children into her little sister's hair alongside her headpiece after Naerys had pinned up her silver curls. Beaming at the finished result. “Ao jurnegon hae pretty hae aōha muñnykeā byka zaldrīzes.” You look as pretty as your mother little dragon. Daemon’s violet eyes were glassy in the candlelight as he gazed at his daughter. There was no denying that Daenys looked every bit the Valyrian bride. Though her mother thought that the robes fit better on her daughter’s frame than they had ever looked on her.

Naerys could not help, but compare her daughter's wedding to her own. Truthfully could only remember her nerves. The bulk of that fateful day had been a blur. Even when it had been fresh in her mind. She did recall though that Daemon had to draw her blood for her. Her hand had been too shaky.

Daenys had been able to cut her own lip without Aemond’s assistance. She did not wince when her new husband placed their combined blood upon her forehead, the only person who had done so had been Alicent though her bright smile held the truth of her feelings towards her new good-daughter.

Daenys repeated her vows in Valyrian with perfect diction. She beamed up at Aemond, who looked the happiest Naerys had ever seen, as she did so. Daenys was a glowing vibrant bride and her mother was glad for that.

The feast afterward was a rather interesting experience. Aegon had sobered up enough to attend the family gathering in late fathers Nos his private solar. He had not, however, recovered enough from his past libations to have full control of his wits. The soon-to-be crowned king had called for the bedding twice. The first was met with dark glares from both Aemond and Daemon which should have kept him from egging on the situation, but not a quarter hour later did he call for it to be done again.

“Your bride is very pretty brother.” Having been banned from wine and ale for the duration of the feast Aegon took a swig of water from his goblet. Continuing on with a half-drunken smile. “It is a pity that Good Queen Alyssnne saw fit to do away with the first night.” Helaena who sat next to her husband blanched, though his next words would cause them all to stir in anger and recoil in horror.

“My dear little sister could have had two princes breaking her in tonight. Perhaps she still might.” The singers had stopped their music at the last of their new king's declaration. The room went deathly silent. Before either Daemon or Aemond, who were both armed, could enact harm against Aegon, before he was even crowned no less, Ser Otto sprouted up from his seat at the table's end to diffuse the situation.

“I believe that it is time that you retire, your grace.” The hand of the King motioned Ser Criston over to where his eldest grandson sat by a furious Aemond who had only been stopped from committing kingslaying and kinslaying from his young bride's honey hand on his pale one. “You will need your strength for tomorrow.” Aegon protested, but Ser Criston and some of his men were able to lead him back to his bed chambers without too much fuss.

While there was no bedding that did not stop Daemon from trying to hold off Aemond and Daenys departure for as long as he could. The thought of his daughter being swept away to be misused by his nephew made him ill. So he took to glaring at Aemond from where he sat on Daenys left during the duration of the feast. Taking his daughter's smaller hand in his and placed a paternal kiss upon the honey skin. It was almost amusing at first, but as the feast progressed it soon enough became an unbearable sight to watch. The Rogue Prince's mood only became more gloomy with each minute that passed.

Daemon would not even let Daenys join her new husband for so much as a dance, lest Aemond might somehow whisk his daughter away to defile her. Never mind the fact that he was well within his rights to do so now. She was his wife.

Aemond returned his new good father’s glower in kind, but he did not say anything to the older man. Not wanting to provoke his uncle's ire at his own wedding feast. Their poor girl, despite her smile, looked like she was suffocating under her father's smothering. Having to placate both men who she sat into between.

Naerys did not like the idea of what would happen after the feasts either. Their daughter would always be her baby. Her only living child who she had been blessed by the Gods to carry inside her belly for nine moons. It was she who had cared for her before anyone else had known her. She had been a part of her and would always be. She knew Daenys better than her own self, but the young princess was a married woman now. It would not do for her husband to act as he did.

It was only when Naerys had been asked by Ser Criston to join him for a dance, that her husband turned his back on the newlyweds long enough that the two were able to sneak out and head for Aemond’s chambers. Away from prying eyes as they spent their first night as man and wife.

Naerys could not hold back her laughter at the look on her husband’s stern face when he realized that his daughter and good-son had left for their chambers. He was pale as a ghost as he scanned the king's private solar for a glimpse of Daenys. “īlon jāhor ūndegon zirȳ isse se tubis kepus.” We will see them in the morning, uncle. They did not get much rest that night though she counted it lucky that Daemon had not sought to make their daughter a widow on her wedding day.

The ride to Aegon’s coronation the following day was pleasant enough. Naerys rode with her daughter and niece, the soon-to-be crowned queen. The girls sat huddled opposite to the older princess exchanging whispers and giggles amongst themselves. With a rosy flush coloring her honey face, Daenys was the very picture of a new bride. Outside their wheelhouse was a different story.

Both Aemond and Daemon rode ahead of them on horseback. The two had not spoken to each other since the ceremony, but as long as neither prince attempted to harm the other their wives would not force a connection between them. At least not yet anyway.

The hopes for the coronation were low. The Dragonpit had been filled enough with small folk. Though completely sober for mayhaps the first time in his adult life, Aegon was sullen and pale as he made his grand entrance. His eyes watering over as he kneeled next to his sister-wife to be anointed and blessed by Septon Eustace in the frail High Septon’s absence.

Ser Criston held up the crown of the conqueror for all to see before placing it upon the prince’s white head. Proclaiming him the heir and king in the name of the seven. From the corner of her eye, Naerys noticed her good-son staring at his brother's head. A second son bound by duty. Daenys grabbed her husband’s hand in comfort. Aemond gladly took her little honey hand further into his grasp, but his eyes remained on Aegon.

Alicent went forward to place her own crown upon her daughter's fair head. Giving her a kiss on her cheek before bowing to her. “My Queen.” The girl would not quite meet her mother’s eye though the dear little queen did accept her mother's gesture with a half smile.

Ser Criston had been the one first to bow his head to their new king. He had done so without thought. Tradition dictated that they follow the Dornish knight's lead. In recognition of their new king, each standing on the Dragonpits dais, apart from Helaena who remained kneeling, dropped to a half curtsey, a head bow, or a jerk of the head in Daemon’s case which had been stiffer than Aemond’s half-hearted attempt. Naerys' husband would give him no more than that.

Aegon turned his hollowed-out eyes to gaze at his family and council before turning to face the crowd. King Aegon. The second of his name. For a brief moment, it seemed as if the boy’s low spirits would continue on, but then the crowd began to cheer. He was king. He was the lord of the seven kingdoms. Protector of the realm and he only just now realized it. He basked in the small folks' acceptance of him. Pumping his sword in elation, until an unexpected visitor arrived.

Rhaenys. In her full armor, she rode on top of Meleys. The scarlet she-dragon burst from underneath the floorboards. Crushing the small folk who had been unlucky enough to be in her path. Naerys had not forgotten her aunt. Nor how they left things between them, but she did not expect her to pay her kindness with this.

Chaos reigned over the Dragonpit. Ser Otto commanded the gates to be open as the occupants inside scrambled to exit from the dome lest they wind up crushed or trampled by the Lady of Driftmark and her dragon. Naerys found herself being pushed behind her husband. She let out a breath of relief when she turned her silver head and saw that Aemond had done the same with their daughter who stood clinging to her husband.

Meleys and her rider stared down Aegon and Alicent. The dowager queen ordered Ser Criston to protect her daughter who had moved back from the center of the dais, drawing her son in back of her. Naerys felt all the blood leave out from her body when the dragon began to growl down at the mother and her son.

Her aunt had never been a violent woman, but war makes monsters of us all. Meleys let out a piercing roar at the dowager queen and the freshly crowned king. No heat came. A scream. A battle cry. Nothing more.

Naerys was left reeling as Rhaenys took to the skies heading for Driftmark. Her aunt could have left in peace with Ser Westerlings. The loyal knight had been more than willing to offer her his sword. To take the older princess quietly, discreetly back to her home, Or gather her granddaughters from Hide Tide and bring them here to her, but she had chosen to torment them instead. She had chosen to play at war. She had chosen her queen.

Ao3 Link:

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[spaceless-vacuum]

Fandom‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Legend of Zelda

Pairing‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ Yandere!Ganon x reader

Word count‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ 753

Summery‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ This is set in the Ocarina of Time timeline, where Ganon swore allegience with Hyrule to invade it. You are Zelda’s older sibling and heir to the throne until she eventually takes it.

Misc‧˚｡ﾟ･° ｡✎ third pov, manipulation, yandere tendencies, Ganon is not a good guy and you can’t fix him

If the act of pledging his life to honour Hyrule wasn't enough to make him sick, the sight of you was. Of course it had to be you. Zelda’s older sibling. The crown heir of the kingdom unless your sister decided she wanted it more. You were always a bit quiet. Shadowed behind your younger sibling. All because she held the blood of a god in her. He knew he had to kill Zelda to get what he wanted, but what about you?

The more time he spent in the castle the more he learned he hated the sight of you. Yet he missed you too much when you were gone. It was ridiculous. Pacing around the hallways he knew you typically walked. He started finding more excuses to spend time in the library just so he could be with you. The two of you never interacted. No one said he couldn't talk to you, but the looks from the royal guards and sheika warriors was enough to get him to stay away.

Being close enough to watch you was enough. Nothing fancy was needed. Hyrule would fall and you with it. A shame to have to kill one such as you but he’s done worse.

When you approached him however, things changed. No guards openly followed you. If any were around they stayed hidden. You assured him you came in peace and just wanted to talk. It had to have been a lie. Instead you calmly explained you wanted to ask some questions about him and his people. There are huge gaps in Hyrule’s library for the other kingdoms. Gerudo most of all.

The wars have not been kind to either side and you expressed what looked like genuine sadness and concern. Something he never saw from Zelda. Not when it came to him. You apologized for her previous actions as well. Explaining that your sister was not who she once was. Neither was he.

Ganon just smiled and nodded the whole time. It must be a game, or some sort of trick. Maybe you're planning to double check the information he gives to see if he's true to Hyrule. It scares him a bit. Knowledge is power and suddenly he’s powerless in front of you. There's no way to know if your words are true or not. You could be lying to him.

The idea that he doesn't truly know you and never will scares him. So Ganon takes matters into his own hands. If you won’t say what it is you truly want (even when you do he doesn't believe you) he will find it out. Suddenly he’s paying that much more attention to you. What books you read, the pastries you eat, what shops you visit. Gifts from an anonymous suitor are left on your desk and on your bed. Something tells you it’s him, but you can't prove anything.

You don't stop talking to him either. The two of you meet in the library every so often to talk. Your interest in him and his people is amazing to him. If he didn't know any better he’d say it made you almost likeable. Yet the fact you were the heir to Hyrule made you unreachable. Once that wall was broken however. The plan was settled the moment he thought of it. Once he had Hyrule he’d have you.

Kidnapping you would be too easy. Throughout all of your meetings you always talked about peace. How the past couldn't be erased but the future was still up in the air. For all the talks of peace he knew he would never be able to abide by it. Entertaining the idea wasn't going to hurt until he made his move. He’d break every promise he made just to keep you by his side. 

The whole issue was adorable. Cute even. A rabbit was pleading to the wolf to change its nature. To hold its teeth away from its throat. You were too sweet and kind to survive. That’s why you needed him. He wasn't a fan of keeping a rabbit as a pet, but for you? The world. He could keep you as a pet, or maybe if you swore to behave he could sharpen your teeth? Teach you to live as a wolf like him. The ideas running through his head were too much.

You said you would give anything for peace. Even your hand in marriage? Would you give your heart and soul to a monster like him?

[cowboyfromh3ll]

gimme a little something something with charles pretty please 🥺

one of those things where it’s a leap from friendship to romantic but not fully romantic if that makes sense?

how about the reader went off with charles after the game ended and even though they became pretty close friends in the games timeline, after all the time they spent alone something about the relationship changes. neither of them addresses it or make a big deal out of it all but it just comes naturally to them.

and if the reader could be female but masculine presenting/a tomboy i’d kiss your feet. thanks 😋🤎

To The End

(Charles Smith x Fem!Tomboy!Reader Fluff)

Short and sweet. Sorry if it's too short. But I think it's so cute. Also third post? Woah

Warnings: none

There was something cathartic about the disbandment of the gang; having left it before it all went to shit provided you with an even bigger sense of relief. You allowed yourself a moment of mourning when you initially left the gang with Charles, bidding Arthur solemnly farewell with a long hug. The long trip to and from Canada provided you with a lot of time to think and reflect. You had just experienced the loss of your entire found family; you concluded it was for the better as it marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Though continuing to live in the wilderness on your way to Canada was not much of a transition into your new life, you could at least live without the fear of the law tailing you.

There was a prior agreement to you and Charles sticking together while the two of you got back on your feet, finding solace in one another’s presence in each other's lives. After leaving behind the Wapiti tribe, you two were truly the only people the other had. Whether or not this arrangement was a permanent thing though, you did not know. And neither of you wanted to ponder the possibility by looking that far into the future in fear of coming up with something neither of you liked.

The two of you held a small funeral for Arthur and Susan upon your return to Beaver Hollow, having promptly buried their bodies. There was something strangely bittersweet in the way you held each other, crying softly into one another’s shoulders.

Life continued to move past you, and before you knew it, you and Charles had settled down together in Saint Denis. You found it rather strange, yet mildly amusing, how Charles’ preferred method of making money was in joining in on fighting rings, having onlookers with too much disposable income bet on him or the other fighter. You occasionally watched his matches for moral support, blending into the crowd of men seamlessly and without question. You yourself had taken on a job as an apprentice gunsmith, the final kindling linking you to your previous life. A reminder of what you once obsessed over, but with the fancy new sheen of legality over it.

Your shared domestic approach to life certainly took a toll on you. Despite once being a fighter who was not shy about taking on men three times your size, your urges for violence had significantly quelled, and you often found that the occasional visit to one of Charles' matches would sate your desires long enough for you to not fight the next man who crossed you.

There was something oddly sweet about the way you and Charles would take turns bringing home groceries, or how you’d plan the week's division of chores. The domiciliary way the two of you would gather around the living area at the end of the day, prodding the fireplace while you both discussed the events of your days respectively. The two of you would often joke about how comical it was that your neighbors thought two men were living together, the punchline being the bewildered look on their faces when they heard the pitch of your voice.

The shift in dynamic in your relationship was certainly noticeable, though neither of you found it necessary to address it. And though the two of you had been close long before the gang disbanded, your current relationship was a stark contrast to what it was before. But in many ways, it was also similar. At camp, you’d spend time together in the wilderness, teaching and learning new things from each other. Occasionally you’d bring him herbs in exchange for him updating your weapons. He’d taught you to hunt, to identify certain herbs. Sometimes you’d even spar for fun. But now instead of bringing him herbs you brought him groceries, and he’d make you a hearty meal. You had learned together how to identify the best fruits and vegetables together at the market. And you’d even experiment together in the kitchen, testing new recipes and whatnot.

It only seemed natural that your life had transitioned into this, many aspects of your previous lives not changing but rather being replaced with more domestic qualities.

Upon seeing John again, you chuckled bashfully when he compared you and Charles to a married couple, stating that your dynamic reminded him of he and Abigail. He seemed to have also gone down the home-life route, deciding to finally settle down.

Then of course, there also came the time to mend Charles’ shoulder after he had been shot as a result of you, John, Sadie, and him trekking into the mountains after Micah. While you were also injured, it was nowhere near as bad as Charles, and you coddled the poor man, smothering him with care.

Eventually, saying “I love you” to one another became routine. Neither of you questioned its implications or how it looked to others, all you knew or cared about was that you meant it. Each night you’d walk into the soft light of your shared home, retreating from the cooling hum of the Saint Denis streets, and were sure to hear the words “I love you” minutes within entering,

You would hear I love you tonight, and I love you tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that, and indeed many more tomorrows. You loved each other now and forever.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

To The End - Blur

[cienie-isengardu]

Liu Kang must've been tripping balls if his best solution to Shang Tsung is to shove him into a life of poverty. Liu can claim he wants to reform them but his actions are contradicting his words as it seems like he more or less gave up on Shang and Quan Chi the moment they were born and made their lives terrible as a way to prevent their rise to power which didn't work at all.

Like just put Shang in the White Lotus and raise him yourself so you can keep an eye on him. Shao Khan got a better shot yet Quan Chi is slaving in the mines and Shang was struggling to survive.

The most weird thing about this situation is the very idea that Shang Tsung's new incarnation is bound to be evil and Liu Kang must either reform him to prevent that or let him live in conditions that limit his opportunity to grow, let alone learn magic - instead of assumption that people are born with a clean state as evilness is not inherited trait. Double so, as Liu Kang is said to craft destiny of each person, so why not just make his ex-enemy a fundamental good person or at least temper the traits that originally lead Shang Tsung to evil path in the first place, the way Fire Lord tempered with Rain's godly origin to make him less arrogant or switched Kuai Liang's power from ice to fire. He did make differences to people's original characterization and backstories (Shang Tsung himself was a human born in Earthrealm previously) and we are supposed to believe Shang Tsung couldn't be molded into a good person without putting him into harsh living conditions or couldn’t be placed in loving family to temper his behavior and surround him with people helping him to stay on right track?

At the same time, Liu Kang says Black Dragons are bad guys in all timelines and from previous game we know Kronika used Shang Tsung as a backup if she needed energy from collected souls, so I wonder if there are some rules or difficulties that Liu Kang couldn’t overcome and some characters are in fact by nature aligned with evilness? Thus his attempts to keep Shang Tsung as far from any power?  I literally spent all day thinking about it, the conflict of nature vs nurture  and how this affects Liu Kang’s reasoning for making these certain decisions, but I too think he could just put Shang Tsung between Shaolin Monks and personally oversee his progress, actually making a real effort to teach Shang Tsung to be a good person - but that of course would demand from Liu to overcome his own prejudices.

Truly, why Shao Kahn get the better deal out of three, I don't have an idea.

(And let's not forget the character intro like this:

Shang Tsung: "The squalor I endured as a child-" Geras: "Do not lie. I know the truth."

and I’m not sure if the authors made their mind, did Shang Tsung was born into poverty and neglect - as story mode implies he is on his own, using  deception to survive or we should go with his official bio, he cheated because due to laziness and insincere nature thus ended in that misery because of his own flaws and we are blaming Liu Kang way too much for this mess? But the again, Quan Chi working in mines doesn't sound inspiring much either compared to Shao Kahn's new life)

[leagueofgardens]

At the Seeds' Frontier, Yet Again

Now that I've spent a few days thinking about it, I've got some things to say about the new AL stage play.

If there's a fatal flaw Assault Lily has as a setting, it's that Lilies are only able to fight at full strength for 4 years at most. Before that they're normally kept away from real combat, and after that, they retire. It makes it hard to create a sense of history, of every character being molded by her past while a bright future lies ahead of her.

Some strange decisions made by the previous Assault Lily stories don't help at all. For unclear reasons (maybe Bushiroad wanted to be able to advance the timeline by a year, à la Bandori, when the chronology got too absurd) third-year Lilies have largely been excluded from the anime/game stories.

And while it's easy to forget when they all became close friends near-instantly, most of the Lilies in Team Hitotsuyanagi and Hervor and Gran Eple have just met. They have no history together, not even the short one they could have as Lilies.

Legion Sanngriðr couldn't be more different.

Spoilers past this point.

It all goes back to the promise that Misaka, Totori, Homare, and Chihiro made to form the strongest legion, and Chihiro's disappearance afterwards.

If you've read the Special Feature on Sanngriðr (like you should, now that it's buyable digitally) and Assault Lily Wunder (like you should, because it's free), you've seen how those events shaped Misaka's life, personality and goals in a way that few other Lilies' pasts have. They drove her to keep trying and never give up, even when it seemed like fate had doomed her to be a mediocre Lily that could never be captain of a Yurigaoka legion. They kept her fighting against impossible odds during the Odaiba Counteroffensive until everyone won a miraculous victory, a good part of it thanks to her.

As an aside, I am addressing these "shoulds" only to people who know Japanese. If you need English translations of the stuff besides Wunder, including the play itself… well, I'm seriously considering doing them, but it's going to be a long journey and I have other things to square away first.

Luise, Hanna, Hibari and Touka weren't part of the promise, but they faced their own harsh trials. Seira's memories of Chihiro still weigh upon her. Tokiwa has worked hard, selflessly, to support Misaka and help her achieve her dream. Sanngriðr is a legion where just about everyone has had a painful and difficult past, and that it exists and is one of Yurigaoka's strongest legions is a monument to their perseverance.

Another thing you'll notice reading Assault Lily Wunder is Misaka's unreasonable optimism. In the entire novel, I think there's only one brief scene where she loses heart. This makes it hit all the harder when she's clearly shaken by Chihiro's return and left uncertain of what to do, culminating in her heartbreaking plea for Chihiro to come back to her at the end of the play. But even through her own misery, she saves Touka from losing her sanity to negative magie and supports the rest of her legion, helping them win the battle against the Flowers of the End.

In my opinion, it's the best story Assault Lily has ever told.

I don't have anywhere near as much to say about When the Bugle Blooms. Frankly, it's a pretty typical Assault Lily story about fighting a scary Huge, even if that Huge looks different. But Kaede and Fumi in particular have funny and adorable interactions with the rest of the cast, and it was pretty cool when Kaede awakened a new power to save Fumi's life.

Kiito's got her moments as well, and Imari and Raimu are always precious cinnamon rolls. It didn't feel like a waste of time, which is higher praise than I can give to large parts of the other plays with Team Hitotsuyanagi in them.

All in all, the New Chapter is a fantastic play and no one should miss it. But you'll enjoy it more if you do the reading (and the watching, it references nearly every other AL play) first.

[pixiemage]

Domino Effect - Part 5

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(After the beheading of the Red King comes a visit to the Hobbits in search of an alliance, as always...though things go a bit differently when the King isn't yet red and when he has other plans that he hasn't told his Hand about. Oh yeah, and Ren knows Martyn is stuck in a time loop, doesn't he?)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Listen, we can put off the whole beheading thing, alright?” he offered, watching Martyn over his sunglasses. “Let’s head inside and talk it over and maybe we can figure out a plan of action. Sound good?”

Martyn took a breath and a half-smile made its way onto his face.

“Sounds great, boss.”

“You’ve tried starting out with Team Crastle?”

“Yep,” Martyn muttered, popping the ‘p’. “They’re the first people I teamed up with after I tried going it without you.”

“Ah. Right. Er…you didn’t mention Grian and Scar…?”

“Nope.” At that, Martyn grimaced and paused his pacing, casting a sideways glance toward where Ren was sitting on the bed against the wall. “Like I said, the voices don’t like Grian much. I’m pretty sure they killed me outright the one time I tried to join the Desert Monopoly.”

Ren frowned.

“Maybe you should talk to Grian about all this?” he suggested. “I mean, he’s clearly important to all this somehow, and he’s the admin, so–”

“Shit–” Martyn clamped his hands over his ears with a wince when the chorus of voices rose in outcry against that idea. He scowled. “Nope! No, not happening. No way.”

“Oh, geez dude, you okay?” Ren asked, starting to get to his feet, but Martyn quickly waved him away.

“It’s fine,” he bit out. “Just the bloody voices. Void can they get loud. Assholes.”

“Alright, so…not Grian,” Ren nodded slowly, sinking back onto the bed again all while keeping a concerned eye on his teammate. “Maybe just Scar then? I mean - I don’t remember when he lost his first life, but if it was after you showed up at Renchanting, then maybe you can save him? Maybe Grian won’t team up with him?”

Martyn paused, pondering that. Ren…actually had an interesting idea there. Martyn had never attempted to separate any team besides his own. Separating himself and Ren had created some interesting balance shifts in battles…so perhaps, if Scar was alone on Monopoly Mountain or if Grian turned to another team for the entirety of the game, it would create some pretty substantial waves in the timeline. After all, together Scar and Grian had always been a pretty formidable pair. A part of Martyn wondered if maybe that would be the key to ending the loop…but another part of him dreaded having to go through another dozen runs just to figure out if the breaking of the duo would even work. He hummed thoughtfully.

“That’s not bad,” he told Ren. “Though I wouldn’t mind coming up with other ideas before the ol’ all-powerful gods in my head decide to up and dump me in a new timeline again.”

“Ah - yeah, that might be best,” Ren agreed, the thought making him look uneasy. “Er…the Hobbits. You said you’ve teamed with them before too?”

“Oh, yeah, few times,” Martyn nodded. He finally gave up on pacing and dropped onto the bed next to Ren, dragging his hands over his face. It was still late, still completely dark out, seeing as the whole sacrificial-altar thing had been meant to happen beneath the full moon. Exhaustion was beginning to creep into the edges of his thoughts but he refused to give in just yet. “Er…yeah. We gained an alliance with them a few times, and I spent a dozen or so timelines by joining them at the start.” He smiled wryly. “Funny, how I ended up on the same team as you for a few of those as well. The King and the Hobbits, joined up by yours truly from both ends of the equation.”

“Really?” Ren grinned. “Did we work well together?”

“Er…yeah, pretty well,” Martyn mused. He let himself fall back across the bed, his feet on the floor and his eyes tracing cracks in the stone above his head. “I mean - Scott’s a hell of a fighter when he wants to be, and they had access to better potions than we do. It was kind of nice hanging with Timmy too, even if he tended to die a bit quicker than the rest.”

He went quiet for a moment, remembering. A foggy memory lingered at the edge of his awareness, something about Jimmy and Hobbiton and the lake and a night sky…

“It was quieter,” Martyn found himself saying, the words soft and nostalgic. “Especially when I was livin’ with them. Peaceful, almost, between battles anyway. Their base is kind of secluded and safe from the rest of the havoc on the server, and being around Jimmy always made the voices quieter.”

“It did?” Ren’s questioning voice dragged Martyn back to the present, making him aware enough to see the gears spinning behind Ren’s eyes and to hear the quiet, disgruntled murmuring of the voices at the back of his mind. Something about what he’d just said was upsetting them somehow, though he couldn’t fathom what it could be.

“It…what?” he asked, frowning. “What did what?”

“You said–” Ren turned on the bed, drawing a bent leg up onto the mattress so he could face Martyn better. “You said being around Jimmy made the voices quieter.”

Martyn blinked at him, confused.

“I did?”

“Uh - yes?” Ren cocked his head to the side, his ears twitching and his eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you did. Just now.”

“I…” Martyn stared, bemused. “What are you talking about?”

Something shifted behind Ren’s gaze, his worry compounding into something sharper, something more calculating. He opened his mouth, closed it, and let his eyes cast out over the cave they were sat in.

“You said we worked well with the Hobbits in other timelines, right?” Ren asked, and the sudden shift in topic and the forced casual tone of his words through Martyn for a loop. He sat up, squinting at Ren questioningly for a tick or two before huffing out a breath.

“Er, yeah. I s’ppose. I was getting close to a decent run before I jumped off the wall.”

“Before you–” Ren blinked at him, a question clearly on his tongue, but he seemed to shake it away. “Well if you want to postpone me turning red, maybe we should build up allies. You said Scott was a good fighter. Maybe we can talk to him in the morning and see if he has any ideas on how to win this thing, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Martyn knew Ren well. He had spent countless runs at the man’s side and he knew when Ren was hiding something from him. But for all that he wanted to be annoyed with his supposed partner for keeping secrets when tonight Ren had been hell-bent on proving their loyalties to each other (prior to Martyn’s earth-shattering admittance at the altar), Martyn was simply too exhausted right now to pursue it. He’d have to pester Ren about it in the morning, but for now he simply sighed and ran a hand through his hair, remembering belatedly that he’d have to retrieve his headband from the carrot fields in the morning.

“...yeah,” he muttered, pushing himself upright with a stifled yawn. “Y-Yeah, that - sure. At the very least, something’ll change since you’re not the Red King just yet. I’m game to try that out at least once.”

Ren was eyeing him still, calculating and curious, but the comment brought the quirk of a smile to Ren’s lips.

“You’ve never tried to stop me at the altar before?”

“I - no.” Martyn blinked up at him. “No, I haven’t. Either I wanted to prove my loyalty to you, or - I dunno - I s’ppose either Skizz or Etho just went along with it whenever I wasn’t on your team.”

“Skizz and Etho?” Ren cocked his head to the side.

“Oh - yeah, they–” Martyn snorted, the sound coming out tired. He bent down to take off his boots. “Whenever I wasn’t the Hand to the King, it was one o’ them. Depended on the run, I guess. It was off-the-walls surreal, let me tell you. I reckon I’m a better Hand than either o’ them would be, any day of the week.”

“Well Etho’s never been the most invested person when it comes to roleplay,” Ren admitted with a chuckle. “He has fun with it, sure, but I like that you’re willing to go all-in on my crazy ideas.”

At that, Martyn’s grin widened and he shot Ren a pair of finger guns with a click of his tongue.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, boss.”

Heading over to the Hobbits the next morning was strange, in Martyn’s opinion. He hadn’t really bothered wondering why Ren wanted to do so in the first place, because it was normally their first stop after Ren’s beheading in timelines past. The difference here being, of course, that Ren wasn’t red. Normally Ren and Martyn (or Ren and Skizz, or Ren and Etho) would go on a server tour after the rise of the Red King in an effort to collect offerings and allies in exchange for loyalty and the protection of Dogwarts. This trip held no red banners and there was no message Ren was trying to send. No, this time they were reaching out with more friendship than ferocity, something that made Martyn feel like he was looking into a funhouse mirror with how similar yet not the whole situation was.

Part of the surreality sat in the fact that Martyn seemed to be doing more of the talking than Ren this time around. He supposed he could chalk it up to Ren being on yellow instead of red - he knew full well that being red messed with peoples’ heads - but it still felt odd. He and Ren were perched on stepping stones in the middle of the Hobbits’ little lake with Scott staring at them judgingly from the shoreline and Jimmy - like always - nowhere in sight. It was how this conversation always began, even if the dialogue was going a little differently this time.

“You want to be allies?” Scott repeated, raising an eyebrow at them and folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t know if you realize this, but Scar and Grian came over and offered us the same thing yesterday. Last I heard you two weren’t exactly on friendly terms with them.”

“They offered you an alliance after they blew up Jimmy?” Martyn asked, eyebrows raised.

He knew full well that they had done so - he had lived with the Hobbits for a series of runs, after all, and Grian and Scar had graced their doorstep in every run without fail if Jimmy was caught up in the bombing of Dogwarts. (They didn’t seem to bother stopping by with their first offering of allyship unless Jimmy died, and during runs where Martyn steered the Hobbits toward accepting Ren’s banner, the Sand People didn’t bother coming by at all to offer it the second time.) But regardless, Martyn knew the Desert Duo must have been here the day before, he just had to pretend that he didn’t.

“Well, technically, Jimmy got himself blown up,” Scott drawled, amused and adoring, in a what-am-I-gonna-do-with-him sort of way. He and Martyn exchanged a smirk before the bluenet carried on. “But anyway, they apologized. Jimmy wasn’t the target of that TNT minecart, you two were.”

“Oh, come off it, you heard Grian’s laugh,” Martyn shot back, rolling his eyes. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the desert. “The madman was enjoying the chaos, and he didn’t care who got caught up in it. He killed three people, on green, for Scar, and he loved every second of it.”

“Oi! What’s goin’ on out here?”

Right on cue, Martyn thought, watching Jimmy emerge from a door he knew led down to the zombie spawner. The red player looked a bit worse for wear, his skin grayed out with lingering residue from the explosion marring his coloring. Martyn grinned.

“Hey Timmy!” he called out cheerfully. “Don’t mind us, we’re just pestering your husband.”

Almost immediately Jimmy was between them and Scott, his sword drawn and his eyes alight. It seemed that even if Ren wasn’t red, Jimmy would always be ready to defend Scott in this game.

“No, Jimmy, it’s fine–”

“I’m - I’m stickin’ up for you!” Jimmy insisted, cutting off Scott’s quiet protests.

The echo of another timeline - “My red could beat up your red any day!” - whispered at the back of Martyn’s thoughts, and he brushed it aside. They weren’t challenging the Hobbits this time around. They were trying to befriend them. Right?

“Ah, Jimmy!” Ren grinned, waving. “Just the man I wanted to see. D’you mind if we have a word in private?”

…wait, what?

“What?” Martyn blinked and eyed Ren questioningly, and the voices began to chatter in the back of his mind, though they felt oddly muted. (They always felt oddly muted here.) He felt as though it should be more of a familiar sensation than it was. He also had the sneaking suspicion Ren’s abandonment of the plan had something to do with whatever he had been keeping his lips sealed about the night before. “Ren, what–?”

“You’re not talking to Jimmy alone,” Scott said sharply, glaring at them both from across the water. “You might not be red, but that didn’t stop Grian from killing three people.”

Jimmy spluttered out a protest.

“Can’t I speak for myself? I’m not incompetent–”

“I never said you were. I’m just sticking up for you.”

“You - don’t use my own words against me!”

“Ren,” Martyn repeated, grabbing Ren’s shoulder before the other man could hop off across the water like it seemed he was about to do. “What are you doing? This wasn’t part of the plan!”

“You said the voices were quieter when Jimmy was around,” Ren told him, his words sharp and a little exasperated, his smile dropping. “You told me that, and then you forgot you’d even said it. And you said that they probably killed you for trying to team up with Grian a few timelines ago, right? And when I said you should tell Grian the truth and ask for help, you got a crazy headache because they didn’t agree with that plan. Right?”

“I–” Martyn blinked, wincing against the muffled uproar that flooded his head with each word Ren spoke. He hissed and clutched at his head, though - just as Ren had said - it was quieter than he was sure it normally would have been. It was quieter, and if Ren was right, it was because Jimmy was nearby. Regardless, it took him by surprise and he swayed on the spot where he was perched on the stepping stone, Ren’s hands grabbing at his arms to keep him steady. “I…maybe? It’s - I can’t really remember–”

“...what voices?”

Martyn fought against his headache and glanced across the water to see Jimmy giving him a wide-eyed look, ignoring Scott’s groping hand as the other player tried to tug him back to the shore.

“Jimmy, it could be a trap,” Scott insisted on a hiss, tension around his eyes. “You’re red. I don’t want to lose you–”

“Scott, it’s fine,” Jimmy insisted. He shook off his husband’s grip and jumped to the next stepping stone. His focus snapped back to the members of Dogwarts, concern etched in his features. “What voices?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martyn heard himself say, the words leaving him unbidden while Ren let out a frustrated huff of exasperation.

“Martyn–”

“Ren said voices, I heard him.” Jimmy frowned, and recognition sharpened his eyes. “It’s not the Listeners, is it?”

Martyn stilled. Something about this conversation was familiar, too familiar.

“The what now?” The words left him without his full control. What was happening?

“The–” Jimmy lost his footing and yelped, scrambling to find balance again while Scott cried out behind him. He lept to the next stepping stone, a larger one, and once he was balanced he faced Martyn straight-on with a strange look on his face. “You know, back in Evo? The Listeners. They spoke to us, remember?”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Timmy.”

Martyn felt Ren’s hold on his arm tighten slightly and he saw Scott go pale in the background, quiet swearing in a thick accent filling the air as the blue-haired player dragged a hand over his mouth. (A stray recognition crossed Martyn’s mind, the realization that Jimmy must have told Scott about Them for him to be reacting like this, though who They were or what even needed telling both seemed to elude him. There was something significant happening here, he just wasn’t sure what.)

“This - this isn’t part of the game, is it?” Scott asked on a breath, his eyes wide and seeking out Ren’s. Beside Martyn, Ren shook his head.

“Definitely not.”

“Martyn, what do you mean you don’t–” Jimmy’s puzzled expression darkened and a tension appeared around his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you remember about Evo?”

“What d’you mean, what do I remember?” Martyn spluttered incredulously. He tugged out of Ren’s hold, nearly losing his footing in the process but not going down. The voices in his head were still chattering, still annoyed, but they seemed to be getting quieter and quieter with each step Jimmy was taking across the lake. “Evo - it’s one of the first servers we joined together, you nutter. Grian made it. You and Big B were a part of it, and Grian’s friend Pearl, and Taurtis, and–”

Martyn’s head throbbed painfully.

–and Taurtis went missing, and Grian did too, and we were sure They were behind it - so sure but no proof - and then Someone came along to protect us from Them, and while the rest of us escaped nobody knew what had happened to Grian or Taurtis or where they had gone, until Grian appeared in Hermitcraft one day as if nothing had happened, but something had changed - everything had changed - and–

“No, Martyn, I mean–” Jimmy was running a hand through his hair now, the gray-blond strands awry and his expression strained. “Do you remember the Watchers?”

The name sent a shiver down Martyn’s spine. For a moment - for a brief moment - dread and terror flooded him, his fight-or-flight on the verge of kicking in. He had been here before. This had happened before. They had said these things, felt these things, all before. Hadn’t they? Then a tidal wave of calm threatened to wash it all away, tried to clear it from his thoughts as easily as breathing, but he clung to his unease. He clung to it desperately and his breath hitched and he searched Jimmy’s face. The Watchers? What Watchers? He had to know–

“The…the what?” he whispered hoarsely.

Jimmy let out a strangled sort of sound, one of distress, and he jumped one stepping stone closer so he was right in front of the other former member of Evo.

“The Watchers,” he repeated, insistent. “They - they ruined everything on Evo. How do you not remember…?”

A grayed hand reached out for him, chilled fingers closing around his bare wrist, and it felt as though the air had been knocked from Martyn’s lungs. Something seemed to explode inside him, his thoughts clearing like the aftermath of a storm and mental aches he didn’t know he had were dispelled in an instant. The voices - the voices, the ever-present voices that had been tormenting him for years - went impossibly silent, their presence blocked off in a way they never had been before.

It was as if Martyn’s head was clear for the first time in an eon, as if he felt more fully himself for the first time in far too long. Then memories flooded in, things he didn’t even know he had forgotten, memories from Evo that Jimmy kept trying to remind him of, Listeners and Watchers and oh god, they’d talked about this before, by this lake, and he’d been killed for it and Grian, Grian returning from captivity after Evo like a man resurrected, reuniting with all of them and admitting - months after his return - what They had turned him into.

“It’s not all of them,” he had been quick to reassure. “The ones who were watching over Evo at the start were kind. The ones who found me, who took me - the ones who took over Evo after I was gone - they’re the worst sort imaginable…” and “Taurtis is okay, by the way. He’s a Watcher now too, but unlike me he ended up with the right sort…”

“Jimmy…” Martyn choked out, eyes wide and distant as far too many puzzle pieces began to click into place. “Jimmy, I think - I think the server’s in danger.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: WOOOO PLOT! This story is getting so much longer than I meant for it to, but I'm having a BLAST writing it so I can't complain! Also...some loose Evo canon manipulation lol. Creative liberties might be taken because I haven't actually seen Martyn's POV - only Grian's - so I had to do some quick research to at least TRY to base it off of what happened in the series. Soooo cut me some slack if it's not quite right lol]

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[appreciatingtokrev]

that's really nice to heard that you guys managed to turn it around then! hopefully, your friendship will last for many years to come 🙂 i recently had to cut off a friend for 8 years because she went too far since she let bad experiences define her too much and i couldn't do it anymore 😭 it did made me realise that friendship or any general relationship does take work but it won't happen if the other party doesn't listen 😅 i'm a mac user and it's not available for IOS users expect for the iPhones but you can get GI on an iPad but most don't know this. Mac aren't really great for games anymore, you can't download any from steam now. that does make sense and maybe the company just abandoned it since they don't see a need switch version considering the success.

I've heard that the gacha concept is bad for ppl with gambling issues though like some ppl do impulse buy on there a lot. i've gave into playing honaki star because i wanted to be there from the start. which one do you prefer? i like honkai star more, how about you?

you are right, i got a bit lost there and we don't have the high school system on my end so i have to look up fms 😅 are you still in high school then (?) where i live, ppl your age are at university or they're retaking the previous year to get into uni.

i read the manga a while back so i've looked it up and you're correct. that is a good point, koko does seem more likely to change compare to inupi. that's true since even mitusya was still a member in bad toman and mikey disappeared and kisaki's influence. i wonder that cause koko to change that much in the bonten timeline though? because he definitely knew what he was doing then by signing up to it willingly.

it is a bit hard and long 😅 which version of venti do you want to cosplay? that is a shame but more interesting characters will appear where you might want to cosplay them instead and like you said, you could always start now.

tbh, anime merchandise is pretty expensive so if you could order it, it would be a little bit hard to find reasonable prices 😭 there are limited edition perfumes of TR that cost at least 100+ for just ONE, i was talking to someone and she will buy at least more than one but i was like wait, what if you don't like the scent? and then she said i'll just add it to my anime collection then and i went 💀 i would never do that, would you? making his earring must been cool though, does it jingle then? you're almost there then! wouldn't a wig be uncomfortable though? and hot to wear in the summer ? my cousin said the same thing about the hotness and you guys are exactly one month apart from each other, she's 16th of March lol. i'm not telling anyone that i'm cosplaying 😂 i'm just going to wear it as an outfit every once in a while and i'm not buying a wig.

i'm not a makima fan either, i just like her outfit lol. the fanart of her are cool though considering how terrifying/dark they are. why don't you like her? it really was and luckily i managed to get the last one for my size otherwise i've would given up 😭 thanks, it's not perfect, there is a split at the back (at the bottom) but closet i was going to get so i'm happy.

ty!! yeah i hope so too :] oh no,, i’m sorry for you ajdjfkh losing friends you’ve had for so long is very hard but if you believe it’s better that way i’m glad you did it & i hope it doesn’t take too much of a toll on you. a few years ago me and my best friend of 8 years grew apart and well... i was pretty sad about it tbh but i mean that’s life.

hm interesting, didn’t know abt any of the technical genshin stuff bc for my laptops it’s always worked without a problem

i hate to admit it but i’ve spent money on genshin too, though it was a one-time thing and i was still financially stable afterwards (otherwise i wouldn’t have done it). but yeah, it’s definitely a problem for gambling addicts.

ohh personally i prefer genshin, probably bc it’s what got me into gaming on pc and i’ve been playing it for so long lol but i prefer honkai star rail over honkai impact for sure. i do prefer the gi/hi fight mechanics but those in hsr are very fun too and i like that they did something different for once!

yeah i mean it’s not really a highschool here either... i would explain the school system in switzerland to you but it’s a little complicated so ajfjfjhsk tbf i’m a bit older than most people in my class tho it’s not too unusual for someone my age to be where i am bc the fms & gymnasium often have people repeating a bunch of times or similar things. most people actually graduate highschool at abt 18 to 20 where i live, in my specific type of class even half a year later so 19 to 21. and i’ll graduate at 22 so yeah lol. then i’ll probably go to university

i guess koko is just more prone to crime than e.g. inupi or mitsuya? i think it has to do with his trauma relating money because he knew that getting into bonten would secure him good business (if he works well ofc, but he knows he does lol) plus the other people who ended up joining bonten wanted him to be there too so that gives him an easier time making a decision.

i’d love to cospaly just his normal outfit, the one he wears in-game! my hair’s been growing out since and i never dyed it but i actually got pretty much the same haircut as him last summer lol. now idk what i wanna do with my hair and i hate going to the hair dresser so i haven’t cut it since ajdjfkhsk.

yeah, merch is so expensive 😭 i ended up finding a store in the city where my school is at that sells some animanga merch, including tokrev (and gi) stuff, so i now have a tiny takemichi figurine and a little plushie mitsuya keychain hehe, and both weren’t too expensive. i’ve also been planning on crocheting some little tokrev dolls inspired by a silly fic i read lol but my motivation has been so low 😭 ah yeah i’ve seen a bunch of tokrev perfumes too... i mean. if she likes spending money on stuff and has enough money to do it... her choice i guess

it does jingle!! i haven’t worn it yet tho bc i don’t mind the sound but i’m pretty sure the public doesn’t lmao so i might make another that looks the same but doesn’t make any noises so i can wear it.

mhh honestly i don’t think i will care abt wearing a wig too much, it’s not for too long and while i hate tge heat i can tolerate it quite easily so. and i think it will be plenty of fun (and struggle) to style it haha

oh lol, i see i’m collecting people with birthdays similar to mine one way or another lol. that actually makes a lot of sense! her outfit very much is perfect to just wear casually so. omg i love makima fanart, especially when people incorporate a lot of symbolism and/or horror elements. she’s just so pleasing to look at in a way ajdkfjsjh. she gave me bad vibes from the start and well i dislike her for her actions, which should be pretty popular lol. any reason in particular that you dislike her? omg pretty much the same thing happened to me with my valhalla jacket jacket, i’d checked out every store in town and was SO close to giving up when i found one slightly too big (it makes my shoulders look weirdly broad but i have some ideas on shortening the sleeves to fix it) and it looked okay so i bought it.

[writers-blogck]

The Stranger and the Confidant ( RE8 Lords x Reader )

Warning(s): This will be a bit different than the game itself. One of the main big differences is the timeline. The game occurs in a day (or a couple of days) but this will last longer overall. Ethan will be in the village for one month (approximately). This is to allow for more story development. The plot will be the same so heavy spoilers for the rest of the game!  This is going to be the beginning of a collection of one-shots surrounding the Resident Evil 8 - Village universe. The stories may follow a Harem-type trope where multiple people are interested in the reader. 

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Get ready for the trio of sisters next

Title: The Stranger and the Confidant Pairing: RE8 Lords x Reader Fandom: Resident Evil - Village Word Count: 2,943 Chapter: Three Previous Part ● Next Part 

        How long were you in the church? It felt like hours but it must have only been mere minutes. Somehow you were able to convince Mother Miranda to let you leave before Heisenberg came back from his task. You knew that whatever they had planned for Ethan couldn't be good. Would they kill him now? The Duke told you he was going to need help while he explored the lord's domains, if he was dead, then he wouldn't need help. Still, the Duke was never wrong. He had this sixth sense when it came to seeing the future. He had never explained it to you and you doubted that he ever would.

        How had he even known about Ethan in the first place? You had believed the man was already in the village but if Heisenberg was fetching him now, then that was impossible. There was so much you didn't understand about the Duke. At times, he seemed more powerful than the Lords himself, though he didn't have a domain. He wasn't created by Miranda, that you knew of anyway. The Duke never wanted to talk about his past before you were part of it. It seemed like he was just being sweet but you always wondered if he was hiding something. 

        Questioning him wasn't always the best idea as he was your only companion that you could fully trust.  You had to assume everyone else had plans to doublecross you or use you in some way. When most of your neighbors were lycans, it wasn't a surprise that you couldn't trust anyone. If he got mad at you, then you would lose every piece of structure that you had. Luckily, the Duke had quite a bit of patience. He knew how to carefully steer away from the topic at hand while making it seem like it was your doing. 

        It could be worse, you had to keep telling yourself that. In the end, you were still alive. Enslaved but alive...If you played your cards right, this might even be a good thing. Now that the village was destroyed, everything was going to change. Power structures may shift or the ones in power now may get even more powerful. There was no way to know. Yet, getting in good with the lords may be better than just staying hidden. With Ethan now in the mix as a wild card, there was no way to plan in advance life you were used to. It scared you. 

        Familiar stone tiles began to appear as you got closer to the village square. Before the fall of the village, you had lived in a small house off the edge of the village, away from any of the lords. Now with everything that happened, the Duke decided that it would be too dangerous to stay in one place. You had a small bedroll in the back of the caravan where you would sleep when the night finally came. The Duke would stay upfront, driving on some nights while others he would just stay up there without moving. Did he need to sleep? He had to. You convinced yourself he slept when you were out, collecting items and information. 

        You loved the Duke with all of your heart but the two of you had a strange family. Even as a child, he would leave you alone, assuring you that you would be safe as long as you stayed inside, only venturing to the village if you needed supplies. This was how you spent most of your life until you began to get more rebellious in your teenage years and began to sneak out. It wasn't hard as the Duke was always leaving to go to the outside world. Even with how often he left, the relationship between the two of you was strong. He always brought you back things from his travels and he made sure to spend time with you when he was here. 

        As the square came in to view and you could see the caravan, you were shocked that the Duke wasn't alone. A man was there with him and there was only one person it could be. How had it gotten here before you had? Time was weird in the Village but normally it wasn't this weird. You had stopped at a few houses before returning, keeping out of the lycans' gazes as well as collecting some supplies left by the villagers. That must have taken longer than you had expected.  The Duke was going to be even more annoyed, the longer you were gone, the more of a chiding you would get. A sigh left your lips as you emerged from between the houses, getting the attention of both men. 

        "Ah, I was just talking about you! This is Ethan Winters, the newest occupant of our lovely village." Hidden from Ethan's gaze but obvious to your own was the emotion behind the Duke's words. There was a tension that was normally absent from his voice, eyes narrowed a centimeter as he watched you approach. All hope that you had for getting out of this easily disappeared. There went an easy night, though there had been a small chance of having one anyway. Alas, there was nothing you could do now. 

        There was also the hint of condescension in his voice but you knew he meant well. He reminded you of Lady Dimitrescu in that way. Both took on higher roles than they actually were, to your knowledge. The Duke would never tell you where he was Duke of which made you wonder. Plus, if he was a duke, why was he running as a trader? It didn't make sense.  These questions plagued your mind when you were younger but as you grew you learned to leave these unanswered. He liked to call you 'little royal' in private but in reality, you had just as much power as the other villagers. 

        Ethan didn't look good, to put it nicely...Was there a handsome man hidden under all of that blood and mud? His hand was messily wrapped, obviously due to his new lack of mobility. What had happened to his fingers? It was hard to tell as it was wrapped. The bandages themselves were already getting dirty and if he kept it up like this, he would lose the rest of his hand to infection. That was if he was lucky and the infection didn't spread into the rest of his body. The man looked so tired, you felt bad for him. 

        "I'm very sorry about your daughter." You approached him like he was a wounded wild animal. He wouldn't lash out at you, would he? With everything that he had been through, you wouldn't blame him if he thought that you were a threat in one way or another. Was the Duke the first person he had come into contact with that wasn't an enemy? That must be so disorienting and strange. Yet, he was being such a wonderful father. You wished that you would do the same if you were in his position. 

        "Don't worry, my little apprentice, Mister Ethan Winters here can still save his darling daughter. He just has to collect all of the proper pieces. Hope is not yet lost." The Duke took a large puff from his cigar after he spoke. You had tried one in the past but you had hated the entire experience. Sometimes you thought he only smoked them to fit his aesthetic of being richer than he probably was. 

        Ethan's hand clenched into a fist as the Duke spoke. This must be so trying for him. Being in this nightmare of a village was hard enough as is before adding the lords into the mix. Having to deal with the stress of his missing daughter and the new monsters wandering the lands could only make it worse. It must be terrifying to know that you couldn't keep your child safe. You were surprised that he was still standing and hadn't broken down completely. That was how most people would respond to a situation like this. His brain should explode with all of the stress it was being put under and all of these seemingly impossible things happening. 

        You began to wonder if he had some type of similar experience in the past. That would be the only reason that this new world that had things like lycans and terrifying experiments weren't scarring him completely. You had been raised surrounded by these types of creatures, even before the destruction of the Village. He had been raised on the outside...Were there monsters on the outside as well? 

        "May I?" He flinched but allowed you to grave his hand in your own. Being this close allowed you to see the curves of his face and the hint that there was a true man under the grim. His eyes kept darting from his bandaged hand back to you. You knew that you had to be gentle and not come off as a threat in any way. 

        As gently as you could you began to unwrap the terribly bandaged wound. With the injury now in plain sight, you could tell that something had torn his ring and pinky finger off. The edges were chaotic and you could easily tell this wasn't done by something like a gun or a knife. This was something pulling, perhaps some type of machinery? You didn't want to think of the other options...

        As you expected, his wound was covered in dirt particles and small green pieces of moss on his now stubs in place of his fingers. This would surely have gotten infected if he had left it like this for any longer. Hopefully, you were early enough to keep it from getting infected. It was too late at this point and all you could do now was treat the wound properly. You had learned quite a bit of medical knowledge from a mixture of books and the experiment notes you found while exploring. 

        With one hand cradling Ethan's, you used your free one to go searching through your pockets for what you were looking for. The softness of a leaf let you know that you needed to keep searching. This happened a few times before you found what you wanted. The cool glass was enough of a tell for you to pull it out. One of your bad traits was shoving things in pockets randomly, meaning you never knew where anything was on your person. 

        Pulling out the bottle, you popped the top off of the chem fluid and moved to pour it over the man's injured hand. This would work, though you didn't understand how it worked. There was a lot of science in the Village that you didn't understand but used to stay alive. You didn't understand the yellow flowers at the Benviento estate but you learned that they meant danger. 

        "You need to keep this as clean as possible. It will be very difficult to get antibiotics for an infection if you are to develop one. The only antibiotics in the Village are kept at the Benviento estate. If the worst does happen, I can attempt to get some for you but there is no way to guarantee that I will be successful. This means that it would be better to keep it from getting infected in the first place." 

        "For a cost, of course." The Duke chimed in causing you to roll your eyes. He liked to act like he was greedy but in reality, he was quite generous. He was the one who wanted to leave supplies around for the father. 

        "I know it will be hard to keep it clean." You pulled out a fresh roll of bandages and started to rewrap his wound, "You just need to try your hardest. Rewrap it every day and preferably douse it with chem fluid every night as well. The medicine seems to be able to do miraculous things so perhaps it will keep you safe here. I know there aren't many easy ways to keep yourself clean now as even the water has become tainted so the chem fluid will be your best bet to use on any open wounds." 

        "Why are you helping me?" Ethan looked over his newly bandaged hand, taking in the skilled job in comparison to his own attempt earlier. His attempt looked as if a child had done it but he would cut himself some slack with his, you know, understandable lack of dexterity. He would get better the more he did it, or he at least hoped he would. 

        "Because us humans have to look out for each other." You whispered softly, a small smile on your face. You knew that the Duke wouldn't be able to hear you and Ethan seemed to as well with the small upturn of the corners of his lips. It was only for a moment before the frown returned, the small moment of humanity and positive interaction slipping away. 

        Before anyone could say more, a loud cacophony of howls rang out in the dying light. It was dusk now and soon it would become nighttime. The nighttime was dangerous, even in the most peaceful of places. The dark never meant well as it kept everything that wanted to be hidden, hidden. You knew that well as you were a master of using the dark and the shadows to your advantage. 

        "I...I have to go." Ethan shook his head, backing away from the two of you. He met your gaze one final time before he turned and ran back into the mass of houses that were now abandoned. Would he stay here? You knew that the Duke and you would leave before the night came. It was too dangerous here when it got dark. The lycans got stronger and less predictable. Even the lords had a hard time controlling the stronger ones at night. The full moon hadn't come yet and you couldn't help but wonder if they would be even stronger then? Were they like the monsters in the books?

        Once his retreating figure was gone, you slowly turned to look at the Duke. His emotions were less controlled and he let go of his mask, letting it slip for only a moment as he looked at you. Dealing with Ethan had almost allowed you to forget about the early events of the day. Now you couldn't do that with the stern look you were getting from your caregiver.

        "Where were you? You know that I don't like you being out that much without letting me know. Now that it has gotten more dangerous, I need you to let me know where you are and where you are going for the entire day. Why didn't you check-in? You made me think something happened. I had to deal with the arrival of Mr.Winters as well which kept me from searching for you. What if you had gotten seriously injured?" 

        Your hand instinctively went to run over your leg but you quickly caught yourself. It was bad enough that you had been out for so long, you would never hear the end of it if he knew that you had gotten hurt. Still, even if he wanted to keep you trapped in the caravan, he couldn't...Mother Miranda had a plan for you now and nothing ever came in the way of her plans. Tears welled up in your eyes as the overwhelming nature of the day finally washed over you. Rubbing the back of your palm against your eyes, you moved to hug the man for a hint of comfort. 

        "I'm sorry...I-I didn't mean to be so long but then Mother Miranda-" A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, pushing you away to look you in the face. All of the anger was gone from the face you knew almost as well as your own, now replaced with sympathy and care. He looked like you had just come to him for comfort from a bad dream. If only that was it...What you wouldn't do to be able to wake up from this nightmare and go back to your regular life. 

        "Alright, alright darling, don't break down on me now. Come, let's get ready for the night and you can tell me everything that happened today. I'm certain that we can deal with it, even if it has to do with Mother Miranda. You know I won't let anything bad happen to you...We can come up with a plan for whatever the future holds but right now I need you to tell me what happened. Help me pack up my wares and then we can be off." 

        Nodding, you moved to do the tasks you could do in your sleep. This was how every day ended, it was ritual at this point. It was rare that you ever spent more than one day in a specific place. The Duke said it was safer to always be moving as it kept people from knowing where you were. He made it clear to you from a young age that the only one who needed to know your location was him. He taught you the dangers of the others, whether that be villagers, lords, or even Mother Miranda. You didn't want to think about what your life would be like with him. You would probably be dead in a ditch somewhere without his teachings. 

        Guess you were going to have to do a lot of explaining tonight. But first, it was time to clean up.

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1 ● 2 ● 3 ● 4 ● 5 ● 6

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[silverjirachi]

I had an idea regarding character development of astor (if he actually had one haha), and the devs mentioning something like this came to mind...

"hyrule during the calamity would have a lot of malice, we need more malice in fights"

"simple malice enemies isn't enough, they're just new types of their respective species we need like a malice controlling boss spouting pillars from the ground"

"ganon is literally the calamity so we would need a side boss again, acting like the main villain"

"let's make a simple placeholder villain smug and dark, who we could fight in any land with no story whatsoever so we can put him in whatever origins afterwards"

"his theme music? since he would appear rather frequently than previous ganon-puppets, let's give him an easy tweak from zelda's theme; after all, zelda herself has more screentime than any other before. A royal honor for him, before we kill him off like all the other secondaries."

"and let's take these simple 6 upscending notes and nicely bloat it into an unsettling battle ambience, making the strings have a surrounding voice effect for universal doom"

... i have a feeling he really was expendable, simply made to be disposable after all - what do you think :p

Yeah this is a pretty thorough breakdown of how i imagine astor's character came into being. As much as we all *wish* there was more direct astor connection to botw, I promise botw was made without any conception of Astor as we know him now. There is absolutely no sign of him or his people in-game, save for a few tiny, tiny threads mentioning people who "worship ganon" who may or may not be yiga. The only shred of an inkling we have to go off is the mention of a "fortune teller" in botw, but that seems to be such a throwaway line and an easy mystery they left unsolved for exactly the purposes like you see now. A "fortune teller" could literally be anyone or anything, doesn't mean they were evil, doesn't mean it was Astor, even if the *vague* connections were made in retrospect (with his design and music for instance).

And even when Astor's VA so vaguely mentioned in an interview that "Astor wasn't in BOTW, or so we think," I'm pretty sure that was more him knowing as well as the rest of us that there is nowhere near enough evidence of Astor in-game to say that, but it was him having to have those sorts of thoughts as an actor. Especially when he follows it up with how Astor could have just been "lying in wait," or something to that effect. Unless Nintendo told him something we don't know, in which case @ Jon Lipow break your NDA.

But in fact, I'm inclined to say the entirety of Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity wouldn't have been released at all if not for the overwhelming success of BOTW. It was a cash grab. They knew people were obsessed and in love with the story so they made an even bigger shinier story that lives in that world, and I don't blame them, I am lapping that shit right up. They spent a long time refining and developing that initial world, and they should milk it tbh. I would too. They said themselves BOTW2 was initially gonna be DLC because they just had so many ideas to expand BOTW, and maybe along the way, some of those cut ideas were put into AoC instead.

But that absolutely ties in to why I don't think we're getting any further information on Astor, ever. If not for, come dlc, we find out he was the leader of this cult or something. I think that will be the extent of it. He wasn't pulled out of botw's pre-established lore or anything, you're exactly right - he was made for botw's existing lore, and more specifically, for Age of Calamity's, which is on such a weird island in terms of timeline and such as it is.

Which is exactly why he's disposable.

Age of Calamity, cool and fun and story-driven as it is, is ultimately a spinoff game. They needed a spinoff villain who would fit the world and explain *some things* in the world but also not be important enough to make a huge impact on the world in such a profound way that he'd make a mainline appearance.

It's always interesting to me, then, just how disposable Astor is both in terms of the "meta," as well as how quite literally, in game, he lives to serve one explicit purpose until Ganon doesn't need him any more - after which point, he is disposed of at the earliest convenience. As above, so below. As in Koei Tecmo, so in the Great Calamity.

Art reflects life? Life reflects art? Something else entirely?

Anyways yeah

[ikeromantic]

Friends and Frenemies

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2800 words. This scene takes place after the events of the romantic epilogue. Mostly fluff, slightly spicy.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Kitsune's Day Out

Mitsuhide sat on the floor with his little mouse in his lap. His fingers stroked the nape of her neck as he listened intently to Sarutobi.

Sasuke and Miyake sat across from them on the edge of the bed. Miyake’s expression was somewhere between awe and exhaustion. He wasn’t saying much, just staring into empty space with a confused grin.

The ninja looked mildly pleased as he talked. “My professor took a little convincing. We had to call in the history department chair to talk to Miyake.”

“What did he want to know?” The chatelaine’s eyes were heavy with sleep. They’d spent the day walking around Kyoto, looking at historical sites - things Mitsuhide should recognize.

Of course, everything was so changed from his time that the places they visited may as well have been new. Even if they were the same structures, what lay around them had changed so much as to render the buildings and monuments unrecognizable.

Sasuke shrugged. “Details. It was like watching a verbal exam in a master class. And then he made Miyake pick out his own sword from a room of Sengoku period weapons. It was impressive watching him look each one over.”

At this, the warrior chuckled. “I almost didn’t. It was strange to see Kichihiroe looking so old and worn.”

Mitsuhide smiled. “But you did. So all is well.” He turned his attention back to Sasuke. “What is the benefit of bringing these men in on our secret?”

“Well, first off, this.” He handed Miyake and Mitsuhide campus ID cards. “You are both now officially visiting professors, with a stipend and everything. There was a small . . . additional favor they requested from you.”

“Which is?” Mitsuhide raised one eyebrow.

Miyake answered. “They want you to come in and answer questions. A lot of questions.” He wiped his brow. “They started in on me today and there is just no end!”

Sarutobi nodded a confirmation.

“So . . . they want to pay you to answer questions about the Sengoku era? And that’s it? That doesn’t sound so bad.” The chatelaine grinned.

Mitsuhide shook his head. “I am not sure it’s so simple. This interaction - couldn’t it cause -” he thought for a moment, trying to find the words. “A complication? If I let slip something they don’t know, or they tell me something that will happen?”

“A paradox.” Sasuke’s mouth curled up in the slightest smile. “I considered that. But we are already living in a parallel timeline. One in which you and Nobunaga live, as well as some other changes.”

“So the things they tell us, those aren’t things that will happen?” Miyake sounded a little tense as he asked the question.

“Right,” Sarutobi replied. “Or, mostly right. We can’t be sure how far apart our timeline is from the original, so I encourage you to forget anything you may hear.”

Mitsuhide snorted. “Once a truth is heard, it cannot be so easily forgotten.”

“True enough. Can’t unring the bell, as they say. But are you willing to take that chance and talk with the history professor anyway?”

“I will.” Mitsuhide stroked his little one’s neck with gentle fingertips. “It will be interesting, regardless. And you have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange things. It’s the least I can do to play along.”

“I appreciate that.” Sasuke gave a little bow. “So what did you two do today?”

Miyake elbowed him and gave the two lovers a knowing wink.

Mitsuhide’s little one blushed and covered her face. “No! Nothing like that! Miyake! We just went shopping. Oh - and there were these men -”

“Who kindly helped me pick up our bags when I dropped them. We were very appreciative.” Mitsuhide interrupted her before she could give away any more information about their run in with the modern day bandits. Not that he didn’t trust Sasuke and Miyake. He did - as much as he trusted anyone. But it was always wise to keep information to yourself until there was a reason to share.

Sasuke blinked. “Ok. Well. Tomorrow, I’d like to take you up to the university, Mitsuhide. If that’s alright. You can both come if you want to.”

“Oh! But I needed to run by the office for my job tomorrow! I wanted to give them my apologies for disappearing so suddenly, just when they offered me a position.” She bit her lip. “I guess it can wait though.”

“I can go with her to do that, if you want me to,” Miyake put in.

Mitsuhide nodded. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You two can run errands tomorrow while I satisfy the curiosity of some modern scholars.”

“Are you sure?” The chatelaine looked uneasy.

“I am.” Mitsuhide kissed her cheek. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, does it not?”

After they made arrangements for the coming day, Mitsuhide and his little mouse trekked back to her flat, leaving Miyake and Sasuke to themselves. It wasn’t that he minded the company, but he wanted to have her to himself tonight.

They stopped at a ‘small’ grocery on the way home to pick up something for breakfast. While Mitsuhide had noticed the number of foodstalls, he had not considered an entire store with shelves full of food. He wanted to ask if this was normal, but one look at his little one’s face gave him the answer.

She was not surprised at all. With barely a glance at the stacks of fresh vegetables and fruits, she led him further into the store.

There were at least five types of vinegar, he noted. An assemblage of noodles that defied sense. Several types of rice. Beans. And a variety of things with names he couldn’t identify as food, all wrapped in bright packages. “Masamune would love this place,” Mitsuhide murmured.

“You think? Maybe we should bring him something back.” She smiled. “I’m surprised you thought of him just now.”

“He’s a -” Mitsuhide paused at the realization he was about to say friend. Not ally. Not colleague. Friend. He bit back the word and finished with, “man who loves his food.”

His little mouse didn’t appear to pick up on the omission. “He really is. And he wants everyone around him to enjoy it too.” She picked up a package of rice, then added, “I wish I was such a good cook.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Mitsuhide settled his palm lightly on her low back, reassuring.

She smiled wryly. “Says the man who doesn’t taste his food.”

“Kyubei thinks so too. And his taste buds work fine.”

“Mhmm. Kyubei would eat a pile of rocks and tell me it was delicious if he thought he was supposed to. But I appreciate the compliment.” She leaned against Mitsuhide and sighed. “I wonder how he’s doing right now.”

Mitsuhide considered. There were a number of things he wished he’d had time to tell Kyubei. And of course, he hadn’t counted on Azuchi being attacked but, “I’m sure he is well. Kyubei is resourceful, talented, and I’ve left him the tools he will need. You should worry less about him, and more about yourself.”

“What should I be worried about?”

He grinned and leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. With his lips almost touching her ear, he murmured, “You should worry about what I will do if I don’t get you alone soon.”

His little one inhaled sharply, cheeks heating. Her eyes were bright and full of desire as she replied. “Then we’d better hurry.”

They got back to her flat soon after, and unpacked the groceries. With the last items put away, she sat in a kitchen chair and looked up at Mitsuhide shyly.

It never failed to amuse him how innocent she could be in moments like these. As if she couldn’t admit what she wanted no matter how badly she wanted it. Of course, he’d take full advantage.

“How should I use your bath, little mouse? Can you show me how it works?” Mitsuhide already had an idea, but what fun was that?

“Oh! Yes. Sure. It would be good to clean up.” She led him to her small bathing room. “This handle is hot. This one cold. And if you press this, it will activate the shower. Just be careful where you point the nozzle.”

Mitsuhide leaned over her, pressing close. “So this one is hot?” He turned the handle.

“Umm . . . yes but, I should probably . . . get out of the way . . . the bathroom isn’t big enough-”

“And this one is cold?” He turned the other handle.

She nodded. “Yes. So. Ah, first rinse off with . . . with the shower. And . . . and th-then fill . . .”

Her distraction was deeply amusing. Possibly caused by his breath on the back of her neck and the way her hips met his. Not that he was unaffected. The press of her hips against him was maddening. The slight friction of cloth, the denial of skin to skin touch he ached for. But this was his game, and he knew what came next. Delay only made victory all the sweeter. Mitsuhide pressed the shower, and water fell like warm rain over them.

“Mitsuhide!” She gave a little shriek as he pulled her to standing under the flow. Her clothes clung to her skin, revealing as much as they hid. He could not wait to peel them off her.

“Oh dear. What have I done? Now you’re all wet!” He smiled widely and slid his hand under her shirt, popping the buttons open one after another.

She playfully swatted his other hand as he reached for her skirt. “You totally did that on purpose! I know you did!”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.” Mitsuhide slid her shirt off and enjoyed the sight of water pearling over the rise of her breast. Her soaked bra looked a deeper blue than it had when dry. A good color for her. His hands slipped around behind her, reaching for the clasp.

“You know, if you wanted to bathe together, you could have just said so.”

“Mmm, but this was more fun.” His fingers fumbled with the odd hook-and-eye catches, finally releasing them. Her bra fell away. Mitsuhide relished the sight. “You should probably help me get the rest of these clothes off. I’m fairly certain you don’t bathe wearing them in this age.”

She laughed softly and reached up to cup his cheek. “My wicked kitsune. No. We don’t.” And then she kissed him.

***

Kyubei frowned at the short, dark-haired man in front of him. “You can cut the act, Ranmaru. I’d recognize you anywhere. Besides, your work on that scar is atrocious. Who taught you disguises? Were they blind?”

The page - spy and ninja as well - sighed and set down the basket he was carrying. “I thought the scar was pretty good. It really changes my face. What gave it away?”

“Your fingers are still stained with beetjuice, for one. And you didn’t blend the edges well enough. I can see bits of raw paste at your hairline.”

“Well damn. Alright. You caught me. Are you here to kill me?” Ranmaru’s tone was light, joking, but there was nothing funny about the way his fingers curled around the hilt of the short blade he wore at his hip.

Kyubei rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead. I came to find out what you know - and how you know it. Are you willing to have a conversation with me?” He left out the alternative, which was knocking the page senseless, dragging him back to Azuchi, and putting him in the dungeon. He wanted to avoid that outcome. It wouldn’t do anyone any good.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Alright. Fine. But you’re buying us something to eat. I’m starving!”

“I can do that.” He led the page out of the alley they were in - a spot chosen in case things got ugly - and back into a market street. Kyoto was full of people selling things. He had his pick of at least a dozen stalls and shops for food, but made a beeline for one in particular. The proprietor was one of Mitsuhide’s informants, someone Kyubei could trust if this chat went sideways.

The two men sat down at a back table and ordered sake and food. Ranamru’s preference for sweet things had not changed in his absence. They were getting stewed peaches, peaches with rice, and peach-jelly stuffed mochi. Not to Kyubei’s taste at all, but then, he hadn’t come here for the food.

“What do you know about the attack on Azuchi?” Kyubei wasted no time getting to the point.

Ranmaru shrugged. “Would you believe I didn’t know it was going to happen?”

“No.”

The page giggled. It was a high, false sound with no real mirth. “Well, I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But I really didn’t know that was coming. I knew something was . . . my - my Master was working with some people. And they were coming to Azuchi so I knew they had something in mind. I thought . . .”

Ranmaru’s throat bobbed, stuck on the words. He looked away and wiped at his face.

Kyubei sighed. “So you weren’t sure what was planned. What did you think might happen? Is that what made you run?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and he hadn’t looked up. “I thought . . . maybe they would try to kill him. Nobunaga. A direct attack. Or, poison? I - I didn’t want . . . but I was . . .”

“You were afraid they might ask for your help. Or participation.” Kyubei’s voice was pitched low, for Ranmaru’s ears only. This was not a subject to be discussed lightly.

The page nodded.

“So you ran.”

He nodded again.

Kyubei rubbed the short growth of hair on the top of his head. It was coming in, full and dark, but it itched some days. Especially after spending time on the road, with no rest. Touching it had become a habit for him when he was anxious or unhappy. This conversation was not making him happy.

“I didn’t want to be the one to - you know. Nobunaga has - he’s always been good to- to me. I thought, let them do their own dirty work. I would g-go back to Kennyo. Offer to be, to do a-anything else.” Ranmaru finally looked up. His expression was one of abject misery.

“I don’t blame you. It can be hard to serve two masters. Even when their goals usually align . . . often the methods do not.”

Ranmaru smiled bleakly. “I guess you understand a little.”

The tea and sweets came, and for a brief few minutes, the two men ate and drank in silence.

Finally, Kyubei asked, “So why aren’t you with Kennyo now?”

“I can’t find him. I know he’s working with . . .” Ranmaru’s jaw clenched. “I can’t say. But, I don’t know where they went. Or what they are planning next.”

“I need you to tell me the names, Ranmaru. Assume that I already know them, and from you, I only need confirmation.”

“Fine. Then you say them. I’ll nod if you’re right.”

Kyubei smiled. “Kicho.”

Nod.

“Motonari.”

Nod.

“The ‘shogun’ in exile.”

Nod.

“I was hoping the last one was a no. We worked so hard to set that boy up, but I suppose Yoshiaki’s allies got to him.” Kyubei took a deep breath. “And you really have no idea what they will do next?” He watched Ranmaru for tell-tale signs of a lie.

“I wish I did. I’d find Kennyo and get him away from those stray dogs.” The page almost spat.

“So what will you do now?”

Ranmaru tugged at his darkened locks, twisting them around his finger. “I don’t know. I am afraid to return to Nobunaga’s side. Afraid they will ask me to betray him. But that makes me a traitor to my Master. I am damned either way.” His voice was flat, empty of self-pity or any other emotion.

“You could work for me.”

The page raised an eyebrow. “You know I turned on both my masters. That I am a coward. What would you trust me with?”

“Well, not disguises, clearly.” Kyubei caught the curl of a slight smile on Ranmaru’s lips. “I’d want you to gather information from the daimyo loyal to the shogun. Nothing to do with either of your masters directly. No need to dig yourself a deeper grave.”

“I’d report everything to the Ikko Ikki too.”

Kyubei shrugged. “I’m fine with that? If Kenny’s monks act on the information, I doubt it will be to prop Ashikaga up further.”

Ranmaru chewed at his lip, thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. “I guess I can do that. Just until I find where Kennyo has gone and what he needs of me.”

“Then we have a deal. But I do have one more question before I leave you.”

“What?” The page eyed him, suspicious again.

Kyubei tapped his finger on the table, almost afraid of his own question. Asking it would be giving information away, but he needed to know. “Have you seen or heard from Akechi since the night of the attack on Azuchi?”

Next: Uncomfortable Questions

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[i-like-writing-stuff]

empty [five hargreeves x reader]

request: I loved the “four months” Five fic oh my 💕💕but, What about a Fic where Five finds reader dead?? Like just imagine the pain, sorrow and anger Five would feel to find reader, the one person who stuck with him in Comission, that dealt with his grumpyness, who actually liked him and viceversa and risked it all for him and his family, was killed by Commission :”) Obviously you don’t have to do it if you don’t have to, don’t feel pressure!!

a/n: first of all, thank you!! and i tried my best to follow your request, but as i said in my previous x reader, i really suck at angst??? i tried to keep it as sad as i could and i hope it turned out at least decent?? i feel like i kinda shifted from the request idk lemme know your opinion on it! xoxo

btw, this is not set in the canon timeline, since i could not find the right time for this to take place in. it is around season 1, before they find out vanya has powers, but let’s just take as an AU in which they had more than 10 days to save the world idk

as always, here’s a gif off google lol, but this time iss a sad five:(

summary: five tries to deal with his feelings as he loses his significant other at the hands of the commission

Empty.

A big pit of emptiness had made itself felt inside of Five, as he was slowly letting the reality sink in. 

He was never going to see you again, he was never going to talk to you again, he was never going to touch you again. He was never going to see your smile again, he was never going to hear the sound of your laughter again, or feel you in his arms whenever you let excitement take over you and engulf him into a hug- he may not have been a very touchy person, but whenever you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down, Five felt happy.

And he knew, right now- he knew well he’d never be that happy again.

It was a fucking nightmare to him, honestly. That’s what he’d say if you were to ask him; his past few days had been horrible. Not only he returned to his family ten days before an apocalypse that in the past killed them, and he had no idea how to stop it, but now he lost the person he was so madly in love with.

At first, he spent a decent amount of time in denial, not willing to accept the fact, but it slowly started feeling real to him. He was slowly accepting it, and as he did so, he was feeling inside how most of his emotions were slowly draining out of him.

Until he was left empty.

And he did prefer it this way, rather than the mixture of feelings that overwhelmed him in the beginning. He was angry, he was pissed of, but he was also sad, miserable. He was furious with the Commission, but he was more furious with himself for not being able to protect you and have your back, like you had his.

Ever since you and Five met years ago in the organization, you had taken a liking to the man. You spent your entire life focusing on your job and forgot to have a life of your own, but once you met Five Hargreeves, it all changed. 

The Handler assigned you one mission to go together on, but ever since then, the two of you realized how well you worked together and how much more efficiently the work was getting done, rather than working by yourselves.

It was only a matter of time until you two decided to partner up, so. You had been through a lot of events and mishaps together, you got into fights and shared good laughs, you even fell in love with each other... 

You had been through so, so much, that it was slowly killing Five as he remembered the good times. 

“Five?” Allison softly knocked on the boy’s door, “The others figured it was time.”

The sudden presence of his sister startled him a bit, but he softened back. He knew it wasn’t only him that suffered- his brothers and sisters were in grief as well. When Five made the big jump from 1963 to 2019, he took you with him to save the world from the impending apocalypse, as well as his siblings that he loved, deep down.

They took an instant liking to you, even if they didn’t have much time to get very close to you. At first, though, they seemed baffled with the fact that you had so much patience with Five. You had been dealing with his grumpy butt, and you weren’t even his wife? How could one person be so calm when she spends so much time with one sarcastic asshole who doesn’t really owe her anything?

“Right.” Five sighed, getting up from his bed with lazy movements, “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Allison nodded, letting him change back into his usual clothes, making her way back to the rest of the family. 

Five put on his uniform, staring into nothingness. He felt exhausted, like he had lost the game of life. If he hadn’t loved his siblings so much that he couldn’t stand losing them as well (again), he probably wouldn’t have even bothered to save the world anymore. 

Even in his numb state of mind, he still hated himself for not being able to save you. His self-inflicted hatred was so strong, he couldn’t even sleep at night, as your lifeless body is the only thing he could see when he closed his eyes.

“Y/N?” Five’s voice was low, as a lump had formed in his throat once he took in the scene before him.

He was waiting- hoping, for an answer, but, oh God- he knew he was not going to receive one. 

The room was an entire mess; there were clear signs of struggle. The cushions on the sofa were scattered around the living room, many expensive statues and vases left around as decor on tables were broken, as well as pots of flowers. All the drinks on the shelves behind the bar were broken to bits, alcohol was spilled on the floor.

As well as blood. 

And many bullet shells.

Five ran towards the bar, rounding it. When his eyes fell on the floor, his heart dropped out of his chest.

You were laying on a side, with your hair all across your face in a pool of your own blood. Five couldn’t care less about the broken glass surrounding you, as he fell to his knees, pulling your body into his arms;

“Y/N!” He yelled, feeling his vision blurry, as he took in your state.

His clothes had already been stained with blood so many times, but never in his life did he think that he’d dirty himself with yours.

Your eyes were almost closed, but he knew right ther eon the spot he’d never be able to forget the emptiness inside them. The spark you had whenever you smiled, or even looked at him had disappeared. They were dull and out of any emotion.

Your skin was pale and cold, as Five’s hot tears fell on you. A mixture of emotions was filling his body, unsure of what to make of the scene before him. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, as he softly stroked your hair, unable to do anything. 

He had seen his fair share of corpses- he knew how to recognize one, as much as he didn’t want to.

Cha-Cha had returned to the Hargreeves house that day, once again. After a long dispute with her partner who wanted out, she decided to start the mission the Commission had sent in; eliminate Y/N Y/L/N, since you had a big role in stopping the apocalypse.

You were all by yourself at the house, as you had been sore after a fight you had the previous night with the Handler, so you took the day off. The Hargreeves siblings left in their own business, and you figured you’d be able to enjoy the big house to yourself for the day, since Pogo and Grace had done the same.

A few hours had barely passed, when Cha-Cha had barged in with two hand guns, all serious. When you first started fighting, you were grateful for returning to your younger body, since you were able to put up a good fight even in your sore state... but it all went sideways when the woman managed to shoot you in the leg after throwing you over the glass coffee table.

You were already out of stamina, so it didn’t take long for her to pull you up by the shirt and throw you over the bar, right into the shelves full of expensive liquor.

Cha-Cha knew that did it, so she left before any of the siblings could return and catch her. As for you? Well, as it had turned out in the autopsy performed by Grace, you had suffered a horrible blow to the head which took you out when you were thrown over the bar. 

Not long after Five, the rest of the family shortly came in, but none of them could ever be prepared for that scene- seeing all the chaos in the living room, the bullets, the broken glass, the blood... their heartbroken brother who was clutching onto the lifeless body of the woman he loved, sobbing heavily.

“Wh... What happened in here...?” Klaus wondered, as tears were already dwelling down his eyes.

“Is she...?” Ben asked, covering his mouth in shock- even if he had never spoken to you since he was unable to, he liked sitting in the back and watching you deal with his brother. He was really happy he had someone that loved him that much, even if you were not willing to admit it yet to his face.

“Oh my God...” Vanya breathed out, feeling her bottom lip tremble, as Allison was too shocked to even say a word, starting to cry heavily into Luther’s chest.

“Whoever did this... is going to pay.” Diego declared, clenching his teeth.

The following days had been hard to digest for any of them, especially for Five. He thought he was too clever to ever want revenge on someone, but your death had Commission written all over it. He knew very well that Cha-Cha and maybe Hazel had struck again- after all, they barged into your home one time before in the search for him, so why not do it again? After all, last time, from what he’s heard, they dropped the chandelier in the hallway on Luther.

“I’m going after the Commission.” Five declared, as his family stood in silence after having scattered your ashes in the backyard you and him had first popped out in.

“No, you are not.” Luther said, as his siblings turned to him curiously, “We are going after the Commission.”

Diego placed a hand in comfort on Five’s shoulder, as the siblings nodded in agreement, ready to avenge the loss of their loved one.

“I’m quite flattered.” You sighed, crossing your arms as you looked at Five, trying your hardest not to cry because of what could have been between the two of you.

Ben shifted beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder, as he noticed the sadness in your tone, “I’m here for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Ben.” You turned to him with a smile, as you tried to lighten up the mood, “At least Klaus has two guardian ghosts now.”

[myonmukyuu]

A setting where Ayumu is in love with Yu, and Setsuna cheers her on.

Previous | Series Masterpost | Bonus (TBA)

**

The fourth main update to my series has finally arrived! Your food is here, SetsuAyu nation! Sorry for the huge delay guys, I know it’s been 2 months since the last update 😅 . I’m done with university for the year though! So I have more time to draw 🥰

First things first - a disclaimer from me:

This story is written with the context of the SIFAS story - which is fairly different to the anime. Ayumu’s motivations are a lot more self-driven in the anime, but in the game she does kind of just agree because Yu needed members to keep the club together (she does come to love the whole idol thing though).

I do make anime references! But they’re just that - references. So just keep in mind I use the SIFAS story as my general guide.

In this comic I wanted to kind of explore Ayumu’s motivations as an idol and compare it with Setsuna’s. Like I said, it does kind of clash with the anime, but Ayumu’s motivations were one of the main things that spurred this entire series in the first place. Putting aside her own hobbies and joining the idol club for her...Ayumu really does love Yu a lot doesn’t she?

I also wanted to show the current state of SetsuAyu’s relationship in this series - how they would support and reassure eachother. Alongside this, the shifting feelings of both SetsuAyu regarding the things that they want. Hopefully I was able to communicate those feelings. 🥰

That being said, this comic was a full-on marathon! 14 pages - the longest of any comic I’ve done yet. The last comic was half the size! It really tested my discipline and stamina. Ever since starting work on the comic, I didn’t skip out a single day 💪💪

Past me is such a fool though. Look it her talking about the third update - “9 pages was too much. I’m happy to do a 7 page comic” - little did she know that she’d limit break again and make a 14-pager😂😂

In case you’re curious, the final timeline for the production of this comic was:

Draft: 7 days

Lines: 9 days

Colours: 9 days

Finalising: 3 days

For a total of 28 days! Phew, I’m exhausted. On weekdays I typically spent 2-5 hours and on weekends easily 4-9 💪 ! As I said, it really pushed both my stamina and my discipline. It feels so great to finally be done!

I’m really happy with how this update turned out by the way. It’s like with every update I do, I always feel like I’m improving with my art skill. Each update is like a step up from the last! Every comic I do feels like a learning experience and I hope that I’ll continue to improve 💖 

I’m really proud of a few pages, so I’ll post them up in another post without the bubbles to show them off 💖 💖.

Again, past me is a fool.

I was like “#3 was way too complex! I’m not doing that level of colouring again!” before one-upping it with this update 😂 😂 . It turns out that I really like toying with lighting. It’s so fun... #5 will take place at sunset so I’m excited for that too 💖 . I’ll have to do a lot of research for it!

I hope you guys enjoyed this update - I really did put a lot of effort into it. I wish I could stream more or show more WIPs but I really wanted to keep all the best things about this comic secret so it could surprise everyone! Admittedly whenever I stream/show WIPs I always pick the more boring looking panels just because I want to hide the cool ones. Sorry if that means that my streams end up less interesting 😂.

On another note, I’m thinking of recruiting a typesetting editor. I’d still like to do basically everything myself, but I recognise that there’s a lot of things that I have no clue about. I really don’t know much about typesetting, so having a critical eye would really ease the weight on my shoulders. I feel like I spend way too much time agonising over how to wrap text... Well, we’ll see how I go moving forward.

Anyways, thank you for reading! And if you’ve been keeping up with this series then I doubly thank you!! I put a lot of heart into this, so the idea of people actually being invested always makes me smile so much (and cry a little).

Expect a bonus coming up within a week! I’ve been excited to draw this one for a while! Though maybe it might be longer than that. I’ve been considering writing up a post about my comic-making process in case people were interested. If I do decide to go through with that, expect the bonus to be a little delayed 💖 .

As for what’s actually in the bonus... well let’s just say this image is in my notes about it:

[hakuoyuki]

Hi! Do you suggest skipping Licht route in the Christmas event? It's coming out in 2 days, but i read it will spoiler his ending so I am concerned. I am very careful around spoilers, and I am SO ANNOYED English is doing this. I want to read all Licht stories, but I would also like to play the game spoiler free. Sadly i won't be able because Licht route will come up after this event part 1 is already over. What do you suggest? Is the Spoiler in the Christmas event big enough to be an issue, or not?

Hello Anon! Okay so let me first explain what I meant by "Licht's route in Beauty and her Beast Christmas Part 1 Story Event contains spoilers for Licht's route"

The spoiler here isn't for "how the route end" but it's the spoiler for "Licht's character development" and also the internal conflict Licht been going through.

With that said, by going straight into the Christmas Event, you'll see Licht post-character development and his thoughts regarding his pre-chara development phase (his way of thinking through out the majority of his route and before).

How the character development happen / what leads to it remain in the route and not fully revealed in the story event.

The internal conflict Licht had gone through however, is a major spoiler for his character in and of itself.

If you've read BOTH Nokto's route and Licht's 1st Birthday (His POV) before, this won't be much of a spoiler for you because those two stories combined reveals the cause that leads to Licht experiencing that internal conflict up until his character development. It's actually still there because it doesn't just disappear, but he's working on it.

If you've only read one of the above and not the other... then this would be considered spoiler territory.

ー

As for my suggestion on what to do....

Personally, I actually recommend you to read Licht's route for the event (perhaps keep his epilogue for after you finish his route, ideally True Love (Romantic) End because that end is there Licht's character was fully developed and it directly links with the discussion in the Christmas' Story Event. This end is also the end in which its epilogue continue directly to the Both End Clear Bonus Story)

And here's my reasoning for why I highly do not recommend skipping events.

As I've mentioned before in other posts (like this one),

It is also to be noted that unlike other titles, IkePri is Very Consistent in its writing and their event stories happens sequentially with references back to prior released contents such as events and even the main route (and happenings from True Love end). The only exception for this is “If Stories” but even with such stories, they are still consistent on the level of an alternate timeline where MC and none of the suitors have yet to become lovers.

With the current 2nd year's Christmas Story Event "Xmas Memory", so far I've only done Nokto's both end + epilogue and gone through Chevalier's preview, however, both of their event stories makes references back to previous events as well as to their Beauty and the Beast Christmas SE (1st year's Christmas Story). It wasn't just mentioned that this was the 2nd time Nokto and Chevalier spent Christmas with their respective MCs...

In Nokto's Xmas Memory Story, there were direct references made to and a direct continuation of Nokto's 2nd Birthday Story (which was also a continuation of his 1st Birthday Story but an event which happened a year after the 1st). Not only that, but there was also mentions back to the gifts from their 1st Christmas as well.

Chevalier's Xmas Memory Story, based on the preview, already showed that it's a direct continuation of "Your Exclusive Maid Just for Today 〜Absolute Obedience to the Master〜" SE too with how the maids (with names) from those events showed up again and their chara development (yes, the maids got chara development from the events too) continued from the ending of Chevalier's Exclusive Maid Story Event.

Licht is part of Xmas Memory Part 2 which won't start until Dec 8, 4PM JST so I can't tell yet which other event(s) it continues from, but seeing how Nokto's and Chevalier's both has mentioned of Beauty and the Beast Christmas SE... I'll say Licht's too would be the same.

Another important thing I want to point out as well, for both the 1st year Christmas Event (Beauty and the Beast Christmas) and the 2nd year Christmas Event (Xmas Memory).... while the epilogue does indeed continue from the Premium End.... the event in the Sweet End happened in between the Premium End. So by reading both Sweet and Premium (and the epilogue), it would give you the complete story as to what happened.

ー

Regardless, there's also the fact that ENG indeed been messing up the event orders so the consistency are already....... suffering as a result so...... In the end, the choice is yours.

[a-purple-lizard]

Have you done an NSFW Alphabet for Geras yet, If you haven't? May I request one?

Geras NSFW alphabet

[This post is NSFW]

I haven’t yet, but I suppose that’s about to change!

[FINAL WARNING, NSFW BELOW THE LINE]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When you finally have had enough, he diligently works to make sure you are completely fine. After he’s assured you are not injured, he will clean you up and find a comfortable place for you to rest, cuddling up next to you, enjoying your presence in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he has no favorite. Every part of him is kronikas flawless design. He is perfect.

As for you, he sees you as a natural masterpiece and thinks your beautiful in every way. But he tends to favor your thighs. He’s found that sucking on them until dark marks appear is a very erotic experience on his part.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Geras has no issue using his powers on you during sex, this includes orgasms. He will repeatedly rewind time during your release, allowing you to remember each time rewind. He will keep doing this until you are begging him for release. It’s basically mental overstimulation.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s closed off most of his senses from the world, but since he’s started having sex with you, he’s opened up to his more primal desires. This includes his newfound love for leaving dark marks on your inner thighs, he just finds it so... pleasing to his very being.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You are definitely taking his virginity, he’s spent his entire life serving kronika, that has left no room for such intimate situations. But trust me, he doesn’t need experience to be good. He rewinds time, learning the ways of your body, and practices until he gets even the slightest of touches just right, before moving on. You won’t have any memory of his previous attempts, so he can play it off as him knowing what he’s doing, don’t be fooled though.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He doesn’t have one, they all provide equal opportunities for him, so he has no preference.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He doesn’t really talk in the moment, not unless you ask him something or he wants to ask you something. To him, sex is a task that he is fulfilling for you, his diligent work has no room for humor.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Geras is very clean, very groomed when it comes to his body. Kronika demands that his body always be in top condition, so he’s always in perfect shape both power wise and body wise.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s not exactly romantic during sex, the entire time, he’s too focused on your body. He sees pleasuring you as a great act of intimacy and romance by itself, so he tends to let the romantic aspect disappear during sex. It’s all about your body and making you feel good.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t really get sexual pleasure from much, the few things he does find erotic involve you. If you’re not there, he won’t get any type of pleasure so he has no need to masturbate.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Does perfection count as a kink? If so, Mark Geras down as one kinky motherfucker. He will repeatedly rewind time, doing even the smallest of touches over and over agian until he gets it just right. You will have no memory of the time rewinds, so to you, it’s like having the best sex ever all in one flawless go.

Also, Geras does find himself liking to suck on your inner thighs, leaving dark marks. He doesn’t know how to explain it, it just fills him with lust to see his marks on such an intimate and attractive part of your body.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As long as there’s a surface, Geras is down. He doesn’t care the time or place, he is ready to serve you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s only ever kronika as a close person, all he’s ever done for her is serve. So serving is the best way he expresses his affection. So his only motivation for sex is your request.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would not hurt you in any way, or degrade you. He is a service top, he wants to make you feel good, not harm you in any way, even if it is considered erotic.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like the service top he is, he is only interested in giving. After thousands of time rewinds of trial and error, he knows all your sensitive parts, where to lick, what to gently brush over and what to suck. He can easily make you scream with pleasure during oral.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default is slow and sensual, milking out as much pleasure for you as possible. But if you want him to go at a different pace, any pace, he’ll comply.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s always ready for a quickie, in fact he’s just always prepared for whenever you wished to be pleasured. Though he much prefers proper sex where he’s not on a time limit, not that times the issue, just there’s so many things he can do to you and he only has a small window of opportunity to please you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s always willing to try out new things to better serve you, as long as it’s nothing harmful.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

When it comes to rounds and stamina, it’s all on you. Geras can literally last for eternity and can have infinite amount of rounds if he wanted to. So for him, don’t worry about how long he can last, worry about how long YOU can last.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I mean, if you count his shape shifting fist as a toy, wich is exactly how he uses it in bed, then ya, he has an entire fucking collection.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not at all. He wants to serve you, he is at your disposal, that’s how he sees it anyway. Teasing is a big no no, unless you request it of course.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s fairly quiet, only growls and grunts. As I said, he doesn’t receive much physical pleasure, he gets off more to your reactions to him rather then the actual sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

After dying and being revived in thousands of timelines, thousands of times in each one, he’s grown mentally numb to touch. It wasn’t until he met you that he started opening up his senses again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Geras is the perfect being, his skin is smooth and flawless, the shape of his body is perfect in every way. He is quite cold to the touch, like touching some sort of plastic metal. He is indeed very strange to feel up. As for the important part, all you need to know is... it’s fucking big. Like your jaw dropped when you saw it. You are concerned that kronika made him for purposes beyond being her bodyguard, did DAMN it’s huge.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

As high or as low as yours. His only interest in sex is pleasing his partner, so he doesn’t really have a personal drive.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Geras doesn’t need sleep. Such a thing is beneath him. But he does enjoy holding you as you sleep, protecting your naked, vulnerable body from the world.

[ecoamerica]

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