#i hope its too cold to sleep without a blanket but too hot with one

[arl-the-beloved]

I hate people with long usernames on ao3 so goddamn much as a mobile user

[buckyalpine]

Bucky in blue pjs who is soft and shy and so cute but sometimes sleeps naked when it gets too hot - I really love a happy, cuddly, shy Bucky. I thought this was adorable, I refuse to not make you all think about it too:

Bucky who got the softest pair of baby blue pj's for his birthday and it's all he wears to sleep. It's his favorite thing ever. He blushed when he saw the letters JBB sewed on the inside; he has no idea who got it for him and he's happy to let it remain a mystery though he secretly hopes they're from you. He saw you sneaking a peek at the size label of his t shirt before scurrying off out the door.

He looks so cozy when he's lounging in them, usually tucked in some corner with a book, a glass of milk and some chocolate chip cookies. He was also given a new pillow; a firm one that wasn't too soft. At first he was reluctant to use it but now he can't go anywhere without it. Imagine how precious he'd look trudging around with it on a moving night because he's sleepy but he doesn't want to miss out either. He starts off awake but seconds later, his face is smushed into the pillow and he's softly snoring. You always make sure to tuck him in with the throw blanket and it never fails to make him let out a content little sigh. Him being a soft, shy little cutie is exactly why the next part is everything.

Him sleeping naked.

As the weather warms up, the AC is on full blast and thank god for Stark technology because it can get as cold as winter if needed.

However.

It wasn't perfect.

It conked out and it leaves everyone as grumpy as ever because no one can sleep and Tony keeps insisting he'll figure it out any day now. Everyone looks miserable except Bucky. He looks as happy as a clam coming down for breakfast in his favorite pj's.

"How on earth did you get any sleep Bucky?" You can't believe he looks so well rested, especially when he has the serum that keeps him extra warm.

"And you're in full on pajamas, you slept in that?!" Steve gawks from the side while you also continue to look at him curiously, his cheeks tinting pink.

"I-

What no one knows is Bucky sleeps naked as the day he was born when it gets too hot. His body did a decent job of regulating heat on its own but throwing off the extra layers didn't hurt.

Of course, he didn't want to tell anyone that part.

The part where when it gets too warm, he starts off by shucking off his shirt. Then eventually his pants. He could keep his boxers on but his door was locked and it just feel so freeing-

"Buck?"

"I slept fine!" He blurts out hoping you wouldn't pry anymore while his best friend stares at him suspiciously. He races out of the kitchen as soon as he has his coffee and he hopes to drop the subject.

But he isn't so lucky.

Because on a particularly exhausting night, he doesn't realize he didn't fully shut his door. You were on your way to your room, peeking in to say goodnight seeing as he hadn't closed the door yet but-

You squeaked seeing his perfectly toned ass, thighs spread apart, back muscles relaxed, all on full display, blinking frozen on the spot before quickly slipping out of his room and shutting the door behind you.

You're beyond giddy for the rest night, unable to shake the image of a very naked, sleeping Bucky out of your mind; his pretty face relaxed, the gentle snores, his meaty legs, his cute butt-

stop.

You will yourself to think of something else but how could you when he looked so perfect. The next day Bucky notices you acting jumpy around him while making breakfast which is unusual for you...

"Everything okay, y/n?" He asks so gently and you nearly melt on the spot, biting back a smile.

"I-I came by your room to say good night, thought you were still awake" You shrug, eyes flicking to his before looking back down at your feet, letting him piece together what you were hinting at. His brows furrow before his eyes grow wide, cheeks flushed down to his neck and up to his ears. You could have sworn you heard him squeak when he stammers out a response. Barely.

"Oh-I-when-what time did you come" He has no idea what you saw or didn't see but either way he knows you know. He hadn't even bothered with clothes the night before going right from the shower straight to bed, fuck what if you didn't want to speak to him again-

"I see why you're able to sleep so well now. It's our secret" You throw him a wink, giggling before running off and Bucky nearly faints himself, he thought he couldn't possibly fall in love more but-

Anyway idk what's wrong with me, my mind has been off the deep end somewhere.

[icypenguin]

★~ Genshin fontaine men cuddle headcanons!

HELLOOO im so sorry i didn’t upload last week T-T i was packing for a trip, i just got back from the trip hehee.. anyway this will include all of the men fronm fontaine, so please enjoyyyy!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

★~Wriothesley: cuddling with wriothesley is like cuddling your personal teddy bear! he is too a body heater. you could say he likes being the big spoon more. but on a gloomy day for him, he prefers to be the small spoon. you both ALWAYS cuddle before sleep. even of you’re fast asleep first, he’ll cuddle you in your sleep. or when it’s a cold rainy day, you’ll cuddle on the couch with blanket cpvering the both of you and halfway finished hot cocoa on the table infront. you often put your head on his chest or shoulder when you’re cuddling and he loves it. he could be a go-to pillow actually. he always does this habit of inhaling your scent and caressing your hair while whispering sweet praises. hug him as much as you want, he pays no mind! he’s such a sweetheart honestly. he wants to keep you safe during the night.

★~Neuvillete: YOUR LOVELY OTTERRRR! he’ll caress your head and put his arms around your waist when you’re sleeping, just like a mother otter! he’s a protective one, you won’t be turning and tossing around in your sleep as he’s locked you in his arms. before sleep, he would cover your face in kisses while you giggle from its tickling sensation. he would tell you one of his story too so you’ll get bored a sleepy (he knows what he’s doing). if you wake up at night from a nightmare, he’ll be sure to make you safe. you’ll be tucked under the blanket, face burried in his chest and hand holding his. on a rare night, he would vent while you be the big spoon. you’ll try to calm his crying as it’s raining outside. he’ll curl while you caress his head, whispering comforting and reassuring words to him.

★~Lyney: WELL… i’d say he’s soft but maybe some other time he’s like… IT’S LIKE HE’S SQUISHING YOU. he’ll wrap his arm around you and squeeze you tight like you’re a baby kitten or something. he’ll pinch your cheek before kissing it then continue hugging you TIGHTLY. you did tell him ‘not too tight’ but well- i guess sometimes he forgot. you guys take turn to be the small and big spoon. if he’s the small spoon, he like to sleep on ur chest or tummy. he likes to move when he’s asleep. when you both wake up, you would find your legs tangled upon eachother and his or your arms on eachother face. if you’re sick, he would REALLYYY want to cuddle you, but lynette told him it’s best if not (booooo). even so, he read you a story so you’ll go to sleep while imagining the story and forgetting the sickness.

★~Freminet: HE LOVEEEES CUDDLES! he would be a bit shy to ask for cuddles but as time pass, he would warm up more and ask you for cuddle everynight and after you wake up. he’s such a sweetheart that he couldn’t pass the day without a cuddle from you! he loves being the small spoon. but you both often just cuddle like normal. he always put his arms around your waist and the other caressing your cheek. he’ll hum a lullaby for you and you’ll hum it together with him too. he loves it when you caress his head, it makes him feel sleepy. in the morning, after you both wake up and still feeling lazy, he would wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you a goodmorning while going back to cuddling you just like last night. he loves it when you caress his head. perhaps his penguin buddy could join in too!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

THANKYOUSOMUCH FOR READINGG! im sorry if this sucks, its my first time writing for neuvilette and freminet but i hope you liked it! should i make a part 2 of monstadt men btw? let me know if you’re up for it, AND ALSO PLS SEND ME REQUESTS I HAVE NO IDEA ON MY MINDDDD AAAAAA ANYWAY HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT DAY! advices are accepted, thankyou!

[justporo]

Moonbathing

Even though he's nicely settled down with Staeve now there are these moments... Sitting under the bright moon, bathing in the pale silver light, pondering while the cold sinks in - until Staeve comes a long with a big blanket and an even bigger heart.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Ehm, surprise!? I wrote this for @velnna as a present. That request today made me think of it again so I figured I'd share it with you. Partially inspired by the epilogue where Astarion tells the player how the last six months made up for so much. Hope you enjoy! @velnna thanks for letting me steal Staeve again! Writing him and Staeve is super fun! <3 Pairing: Astarion/Staeve (You) Warnings: light mention of past trauma Wordcount: 3,5k ~~~

Your night had been spent almost entirely wrapped in each other’s arms. Just like almost every single one of them since most of your messes had been dealt with. No foes were waiting to hold a knife to your throat as soon as the sun climbed up on the horizon anymore (at least for a while you hoped).

The two of you had time now - and your time you would take.

You had enjoyed the moments and times spent with nothing but each other before too, before you’ve had what you considered your happy ending. And there was certainly something to be said about laying down in the arms of your lover when you didn’t know if the next sunrise might bring both of your demise, if not the end of the world altogether. Because - if the world was ending, who wouldn’t want to be held in its final moments?

You could definitely attest that always dancing on the edge of a blade certainly brought its own thrill and held its own intricate beauty.

But the same could be said about this right now: the less loud and less daunting moments. Falling into your soulmate’s embrace freely and of your own volition - nothing pushing you there but the deep desire to be with him and no one else and just revel in each other’s presence.

And the passion and love between Astarion and you was still burning as dangerously hot as it had in the beginning. Apparently, the spark that had been ignited had been incredibly powerful, surprising you both. High flames had sprung from it, all encasing. And you knew that even when the initial flames would settle, the embers would only burn that much hotter.

Never before in your life had you experienced something even remotely close to this. You were certain you would never again. You had found your place, picked the one to gift your heart to. You only had the one anyway.

But there was no need to dwell on such things now.

Blissful exhaustion had softly tugged you towards sleep and you had drifted off to dreamless, restful slumber while the sweat on your skin was still pearling down your neck and your breath and heart were still trying to find a sustainable rhythm again.

When you woke again the first thing you noticed was that the spot next to you was deserted. The second thing you noticed as you looked around while still in sleep drunk stupor was that it was still night. The light sneaking below the thick curtains was still brightly silver - it couldn’t have been that long.

You rolled out of bed lazily, tugged on nothing but pants and made to shuffle out of your joint bedroom in search of your missing vampire.

With your hand on the doorknob you hesitated and threw a look back to the bed. Your eyes wandered over the messed up sheets and bunched up blankets lying there all bunched up. And with a shrug you went back to take one of the blankets to snugly wrap it around your shoulders - the comfort and warmth of a shirt without having to make the effort to put one on. Then you dragged yourself out of the room to go looking for your partner while yawning repeatedly.

It didn’t take you long to find Astarion - you didn’t even have to think about where he might be. He was in the usual spot: the roof that was easily accessible through the attic.

There was a small shuttered window you could easily drag yourself out of and climb onto the shingles before you could enjoy an exquisite view of the city below. It had become a favoured spot for the two of you. Many a bottle of wine had been shared on the edge of this rooftop already.

You needed to be careful to step lightly and distribute your weight evenly to not slip but it was an easy feat for you or Astarion - you both were skilled and practised rogues after all. Effortlessly, you also made it this time even though you had to hold onto the blanket wrapped around you so it wouldn’t slip off your shoulders.

Once outside you were bathed in glistening silver light. The cold, pale hues illuminated everything relentlessly and allowed nearly no darkness during this full moon despite it being in the deep middle of the night.

You immediately spotted the vampire sitting there near the edge of the roof. Not having to worry about the cold at least from a survival standpoint, Astarion had also only put on pants to go and sit on the roof. His legs were dangling off the edge of it while he was leaning back on his arms, staring up at the big full moon in the night sky.

The scene almost reminded you of the times he’d been basking in the sunlight during your adventures. Every possible moment used to soak up the sun - strikingly similar to a cat.

The comparison also sprung to mind now: a lone hunter of the night enjoying a moment of calm at his favourite vantage point in solitude.

But these times were over now, at least as long as you had a say in it. At least for now, Astarion was very much just supposed to be a spoiled house cat, allowed to indulge in all the pleasures that presented themselves.

A smile crept onto your lips as the image crossed your mind. Especially since you knew that the vampire could also be as feisty and irrational as a feline.

Observing the form of your partner outlining against the bright moonlight, you slowly moved over to where he had settled down. You could make out the scars on his back although with no direct light source they almost seemed to blend in with the rest of Astarion’s smooth skin. But you had seen them, observed them so often that the image of the cruel lines on your lover’s back had been permanently burned into your head.

At first they had always startled you badly whenever you saw them despite your efforts to brush over them and not show that you had noticed. If not for your own sake then for Astarion’s. But you had seen them - felt them - frequently now and even though what they meant would always hurt, they were a part like any other of Astarion.

With a few more smooth steps you made your way over and stood next to your partner. You knew he heard you coming despite your roguish stealthiness by the way his head perked up even more. He didn’t even open his eyes though as you stepped up to him. The vampire knew it could only be you - and he trusted you fully. His reaction a testament of how far he’d come since you’d first met.

“Out here catching a cold all by yourself, handsome?”, you asked smugly.

Astarion snorted but you could see a smirk steal onto his face.

“Neither nor apparently, Staeve, my love”, he answered with an amused chuckle and opened his eyes to slowly look at you.

You remained silent, just cocked your head askingly with a raised eyebrow.

“Just - moonbathing”, Astarion continued with a little pause and let his gaze wander from you to the shining full moon again. The cold light was making even the vampire look more pale than usual. His skin and luscious curls almost seemed like they were made out of alabaster like this - a statue crafted out of smooth stone to forever showcase a perfect body and face.

Only his glinting crimson eyes were proof that he was in fact very much a living being - bringing all comparisons to lifeless and soulless figurines to shame. No stonemason could have ever captured his beauty fully anyways.

Astarion's tone had been playful but you knew him so well by now. You realised immediately something was weighing on the mind of your silly little vampire.

But you also knew that trying to coax it out of him would do you no good: he'd only hiss at you in his sassy manner and snap shut like a clam. You had to tread carefully - even more so than on the shingles of this old roof.

“So - maintaining the tan I see”, you took up his banter with a shit-eating grin and carefully sat down beside him now.

The vampire looked at you again and just rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue in disapproval: “You're such an idiot, Staeve.”

You chuckled while you tried to find a comfortable position on the edge of the roof while in the meantime fumbling with your blanket to also throw it around your partner's shoulders so you could comfortably snuggle up together.

“Well, I'd say it's clear you have a thing for idiots, Astarion babe. And now come here.”

That earned you another offended snort as Astarion crossed his arms over his naked chest - almost looking like a child throwing a temper tantrum. But he still willingly let himself be wrapped in one end of the blanket.

Softly you put your arm around him, dragged the pale elf closer until he was able to lean his head on your shoulder. Again he let it happen, this time with a silent sigh.

You could physically feel how the vampire relaxed into your touch and your warmth and how he even snuggled a bit deeper into your joint blanket once you were done fumbling around with it.

His smooth skin felt terribly cold from the frosty winter night. And even though you knew the cold couldn't hurt him you immediately asked yourself why he'd subject himself to this. Freezing temperatures were still very much unpleasant to the vampire as he'd once admitted himself.

Your brows furrowed thinking about why he kept insisting on making it hard on himself. Meanwhile silence stretched out between you as you leaned onto each other, each of you lost deep in thought.

A kind of sadness welled up inside of you while you looked down at Astarion’s head on your shoulder. His eyes were closed once more as he enjoyed the steadiness and peace of your body holding him up and warmth seeping into him.

It was that kind of sadness that was tenacious, that stuck to you, the one you could never fully shake.

You’d fought the necessary battles to both break free. But just as you had your own battles to fight still, so did Astarion. And moments like this one were when you realised it would be a long way still.

Ridding oneself of two centuries of torture and enslavement and all that had come with it was certainly no easy feat. Maybe some shreds would remain forever, stuck to him - just like the scars on his back always would.

Providing comfort, support and love while giving your soulmate all the time and space he needed to shake off the shackles still remaining from the chains that had bound him for so long, was the purpose you wanted to fulfil. As long as you were able to, you would do everything to overcome these other demons that still stayed behind - even if they might prove much more difficult to take down than the literal ones.

The two of you just sat there in silence while you felt how Astarion became warmer under your touch, the blanket providing a comfortable cocoon for the both of you.

You didn’t speak, just enjoyed the cosiness and let your partner dwell in the warmth until he was ready to speak his mind.

Leaning your head on Astarion’s, you enjoyed how his soft white curls tickled your face and neck. Then you closed your eyes as well and simply basked under the giant, radiant moon, the light easily shining even through your lids.

The silver moon beams were beautiful if not even magical. And sitting there, it was almost possible to mistake them for daylight.

But they would never be able to substitute for the golden warmth of sun rays because there was one determining thing missing: warmth.

Giving yourself to the illusion was nice though - even if it lasted only for a few moments.

And as you sat there, an arm around Astarion who was still relaxing more into your touch, you wanted nothing more but to be this source of comfort - to possibly provide but a fraction of what he’d been forced to give up.

The sadness from before was right there again - slowly closing up your throat as you silently opened your eyes and let them linger on the pale elf once more. The moon was still casting him in his unforgiving light, making him look almost translucent - something that might crack and break if you weren’t careful enough with it.

“You miss the sun”, you said. Not even a question. And what a stupid thing to even say you immediately realised after the words had left your lips.

You expected a snarky joke, a click of the tongue, maybe even a hurtful comment. But it didn’t come.

Instead, Astarion next to you straightened his back and took a deep breath in. His eyes were open now and a million miles away as he gazed off into the distance towards the city and somewhere far down the Chionthar glinting under the night sky.

“I do miss the sun”, he replied to what hadn’t been a question in the first place. His voice was surprisingly firm and somehow you felt slightly unsettled by that.

“But I lost that once before - how hard can the second time around be?”, Astarion continued and his red eyes snapped to yours.

You didn’t know what to answer so you just lightly squeezed his shoulder. The vampire’s eyes didn’t leave yours. His gaze was firm, maybe even proud. Your brows furrowed lightly - you had absolutely no idea where all this was going.

“Staeve”, Astarion began while looking you firmly in the eyes “the last six months with you have been the happiest of my life.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Of all the things that you could have expected you surely hadn’t expected something like this. The negative feelings that had been squeezing your heart in your ribcage immediately subsided and gave way to waves of gentle happiness flooding through you. And you couldn’t stop the small but growing smile that was spreading from left to right over your face.

But the vampire wasn’t even done.

“What was before - it’s already beginning to fade. It already feels like aeons ago - and that’s because of you”, Astarion continued and the way he looked at you with eyes so open and wide, genuine smile on his lips - it made your chest clench in a completely different way. Your eyes started burning dangerously at the edges and you had to press your lips into a line to keep them from quivering. But you forced yourself to keep gazing at your soulmate’s face.

But it was he who turned away after a few long moments. A sudden rush of guilt and sorrow glazing over the open admiration and vulnerability from before. His crimson eyes sought out the moon again.

“But I fear-”, Astarion’s voice almost broke as he spoke again. He lowered his gaze. Your heart took a leap - not eager on wanting to hear what he might have to add but also not wanting to stay unknowing.

The vampire sighed, then he cleared his throat, still not looking at you: “I’m not used to caring for the wellbeing of others. I mean, for centuries I didn’t even have my own.”

He stopped again, took in another breath - sharp this time. Then faced you again.

“I fear my own selfish happiness has taken away from yours”, Astarion spoke firmly again now. But you noticed the way he was straining his chin to hold it proudly. This was taking more out of him than he wanted you to notice.

You opened your mouth to protest but the pale elf shushed you with a sharp motion of his hand. He had to get it all out now or it might never be said.

“And I feel like - one of us having to give up the sun is more than enough. I don’t” - the words were hurting to get out, you realised, but they were also hurting while being uttered - “I don’t want to put another through that. Or - no! I don’t want to put you through it, Staeve.”

And with that Astarion’s hand sunk back down again and he looked up at the night sky again, closing his eyes once more with a small strained yelp. You could see his Adam's apple work hard in his throat as you took in his side profile while the words needed to register with you.

You paid close attention to his exquisite features while your brain tried desperately to make sense of what you had just heard: his straight, aristocratic nose, sharp cheekbones highlighted even more by sharp light, full, soft lips over which a tongue nervously flitted. You knew this face so well by now, probably better than your own. When you closed your eyes you could easily conjure up his image, down to the last little detail.

And while you let your gaze wander over his lashes and the vampire’s face was still lifted to the heavens with furrowed brows, his meaning clicked into place for you. And with horrifying clarity you realised what had been said: the bastard was trying to give you an out.

The mere idea was wild to you. No wonder it had taken you several heartbeats to even catch on. This hadn’t even been in your realm of possibilities. And you were sad that obviously it was for him.

There was pressure in your chest again - this night really took a toll on your emotions. But you wouldn’t let it end on a note like this.

“Astarion”, you said quickly after. The vampire didn’t move, his brows only furrowed deeper.

“Astarion, love, look at me”, you begged and stretched out your hand to hook your thumb on his chin and turn his head to you.

He only let it happen reluctantly but he looked at you, pain filling his eyes - and fear.

But there was absolutely no reason for that. You’d prove it to him. There wasn’t even a slither of doubt in your heart.

“I am here, Astarion, because I chose so. I am here, because I love you. Giving up the sun is nothing compared to what it would be like to give up you”, you said eagerly, your tongue almost stumbling over itself while trying to get this out as fast as possible, to bridge this gap and never look back on it again.

You tugged on the vampire’s face to press your forehead to his as you said the following words: “I love you, Astarion. Don’t ever dare to think you can get rid of me. You’re stuck with me now, idiot!”

And then you kissed him, forcefully, and hopefully drowning out all forms of question or protest. Positively smothering him with your love until there was no more doubt - at least for this night.

Only after what felt like forever did Astarion withdraw from your kiss. There was no more pain in his eyes although you still saw slithers of insecurity remain. You swore to yourself you’d get them another time. But at least you felt that things were firmly settled for the night.

A small sniffle from you broke the tender silence between you as you kept gazing at each other. It seemed like the burning in your eyes from before had been a little much to contain. Your nose felt overly stuffy all of a sudden.

But at least the delicate mood had turned again to something that felt more mundane - and less heartbreaking.

“Gods, you’re not crying are you?” Astarion commented teasingly, nose slightly scrunched up. But the smile that curled one side of his mouth quickly afterwards was still rather gentle.

You snorted while you quickly and grossly wiped at your eyes and your nose with a corner of the blanket. “No, the moon is just very bright”, you muttered with another sniffle then shook yourself - almost like an animal trying to get something off itself. Then you felt more like yourself again.

“Well, you better get used to it then, darling, if you’re so keen to be stuck with me”, was the last thing the vampire said before he snuggled himself up against you again, leaning his head onto your shoulder once more.

You had nothing to add. You were just happy that two of you were here in this moment. So you just tightened your hold on Astarion.

And together you watched the night sky, cuddled up in the blanket, until the edges of darkness started blushing in the lightest shades of pink and it was time for you to crawl into bed together again.

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes

[nanamikentoseyebags]

Addicted to your light

He hopes you know his whole world is now reflected in his heavenly blue eyes. Look closer, it's you. Always has been.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: fluff, suggestive themes, use of blindfold, basically satoru and reader's first time together, nothing explicit though

a/n: i got affected by @rossithepixie fic where satoru puts his blindfold on you. here he finds another use for it 🥴 a special thank you to @vagabond-umlaut who read it first 💛

The day gives way to night, as the thick veil of the darkness blankets the walls of the room. The only sources of light in the guise of the young pale moon curiously peering in through the not completely closed curtains, and the small, quaint lamps on the oak bedside tables reveal the mysteries of two stained hearts that try to find their way home. In the subdued, soft lighting two silhouettes sit opposite each other on the king-sized bed. And in the complete silence that reigns here, one can hear their ragged breathing, the hot waves of air leaving their parted lips.

The whole space’s palpably electrified with eager anticipation mingled with infinite tenderness and an overwhelming desire. The threatening mixture that swallows them both not leaving a single chance to escape this sweet torture. And it seems that every atom of their being is transformed into a vibrating movement, fused with an unknown craving that fills their heated bodies.

Your clothes are long forgotten somewhere, discarded on the floor on the way to the bedroom, ready to become a tomorrow’s reminder of this very night. Sitting there on the soft walnut colored silk bedsheets wearing nothing but your underwear, you don't feel any cold; rather, your whole skin seems to be set ablaze, with the heat running through your entire body and waking up all the butterflies that have been sleeping peacefully in your stomach. And he doesn’t even touch you yet.

Satoru looks pretty calm, too calm for your liking. Behind this habitual grin you can’t even discern whether he feels at least a bit as anxious or giddy as you. So your gaze shifts to his torso, causing you to swallow hard, as your eyes flick from his broad chest adorned with crescent scars to his defined abs. The lack of clothes gives you a perfect opportunity to admire his sturdy figure without any shame. Illuminated by the soft yellow light, his snow-white skin takes on a golden hue, like a bronze-carved Apollo, who only smiles softly, as if knowing how breathtaking the sight of him can be. You cannot see his eyes, like treasure sought by pirates hidden behind a black satin blindfold, but you can sense his intense gaze moving slowly along all of your curves, tracing all of your skin, not stopping for a second.

And so you give in, jump in with both feet, unable to languish in anticipation and delay the moment any longer, you move closer, your slightly trembling hands gently reaching for him.

"May I?" a quiet plea comes out of your lips in a whisper, your fingers gently touching the velvet skin of his cheek, slowly moving to his blindfold. Satoru nods weakly, swallowing, feeling your hands gently, as if it might hurt him, untie the knot, and slowly pull the skin-cooling material off his heavenly blue eyes.

You see the stars. He still hasn't touched you yet, but you could swear you see them when your gazes meet. It feels like finding yourself in outer space with no protection and no way to take that much needed breath, hanging weightless, surrounded by celestial bodies and running out of air. Yet you can’t help but marvel the beauty before you, knowing goddamn well that this starry blanket might be your last memory. And you would agree to do it again, just to feel the sense of lightness once more, just to get lost in his light, just to see the world centered in him and hidden behind these two orbits.

He sees the sun. He still hasn’t touched you yet, but he could swear he feels its burning touch when your gazes meet. It feels like floating above the ground not the way he used to do but lifting to the unpreceded heights, striving to reach the biggest star, sense its warm embrace and get lost in its heat, knowing goddamn well that its gentle hold might be the last thing he’ll ever feel. And he would do it again, like Icarus flying up too fast and too close, letting you scorch his wings, letting you take away his strength, only to bask in your presence, only to have a chance to marvel your blinding beauty a little longer, only to make sure you know that his whole world is centered around you and can now be seen in the reflection of his two orbits.

“You’re so beautiful…” he exhales quietly either not fully trusting his voice or in fear of scaring the moment off. His hand flies up to gently tuck your hair behind your ear, a light touch leaving a barely perceptible trace on the curve of your neck. With his fingertips he feels the myriad of goosebumps covering your flawless skin in an instant, and he cannot believe it’s him who does this to you. He lets out a shaky breath, realizing how every inch of his body is shivering at the sensation of the satin fabric you're slowly sliding down his neck. Satoru thanks all the gods above that it's you who's doing this to him. Though no one else ever could.

“Close your eyes,” he commands in a low voice, leaning closer, his hot breath dancing across your skin. You obey pliantly, your heart flutters at his words as he suddenly takes advantage of the situation. Satoru’s delicate hand finds its place on the back of your neck, making you lift your head just a little bit.  With your eyes shut you feel him leaving a small peck on your temple, then softly kissing your closed eyelids and traveling down to your desperately waiting to be kissed and already slightly parted mouth. Gojo makes sure he left the proclamation of his love with the softest brush of his lips on every millimeter of your face while his thumb gently caresses your jawline. He pulls back for a moment, trying to capture in his mind how divinely beautiful you are in the moonlight before drawing you into a deep yet full of fondness and promises kiss. And your worlds collide the moment your lips meet. And if the big bang that started it all for someone seems like a controversial theory, it has now become an absolute and irrefutable truth for the both of you, as it’s just claimed the new beginning. With him being so painfully soft and his lips molding just right against yours and his feather-light touches, treating you like you’re made of the daintiest porcelain, you feel like falling apart right here and right now. With you being so painfully gentle and your fingers tangling in his snow-white hair, treating him like he’s worth of this universal tenderness, he feels like falling apart right here and right now.

Satoru pulls away slightly, a string of saliva still connecting your swollen lips. You don't dare to open your eyes, feeling the thin fabric slowly slip from your fingers. He gently kisses the corner of your lips, unable to resist, before you feel the pleasant coolness of satin on your eyelids. His fingers gently, with apparent skill, fasten his blindfold around your head.

“Relax for me,��� he whispers noticing the way your breath hitches and your chest heaves frantically, “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” his thumb stroking the pinkish apple of your cheek.

“I wanna see you…” you say under your breath, covering his hand with yours.

“You will,” he murmurs and takes your hand in his, kissing your fingers, “but for now, I want you to feel it, okay?” is more of a statement said in a saccharine tone, yet you utter a quiet “okay” surrendering completely to his captivity. His arms encircle your waist before gently lowering you onto the cushioned bed.

“I want you to feel all the love I have for you,” he repeats breathlessly, his fingertips grazing your hips, still unable to believe that you let him touch you, let him kiss your perfect skin, let him get lost in you.

And he’ll spend the whole night showing you how pure and overpowering his love for is, how addicted to your light is, and he is not afraid to burn in doing so.

thank you so much for reading! comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💛

tags: @rossithepixie @pastelle-rabbit @solanaearth @a-nuisance-called-sam @nanamiiss @4sat0ruu @pupkashi @gennysuga

[irkimatsu]

How about Fem!reader and Sick!Husk 🤒 they are already dating and while doting on him and playing nurse, she nuzzles/kisses him. He's huffing and lightly shooing her away saying she'll get sick too and she's says it will help.

---fast forward---

She's in bed mostly covered with blankets all the way up to her nose. Puffy eyes, washcloth on forehead..the works. Husk at the foot of the bed, looking like 😪

Reader: .....worth it 😁😇

Thank you for the adorable ask! The piece I came up with for it is a little on the shorter end, but tooth-rottingly fluffy. I'm happy with it!

SFW, about 1k words. Reader takes care of Husk while sick, then Husk returns the favor.

Husk looks like shit.

Not that you would tell him that; you’re sure he’d agree with you, but it’s not the sort of thing you enjoy pointing out.

You’re sitting by his bedside as he curls up in a ball, sweat and snot pouring down his face. You’re assuming they are, anyway; he rolled over shortly after you came in, saying that you didn’t need to see that nasty shit. His wings and ears are drooping, and even just looking at him from the back you can tell he’s miserable. For all the temptations it offered, Hell did occasionally like reminding its residents that being there is supposed to be a punishment, such as by giving Sinners illnesses that made them crave death without actually granting that mercy.

“My head fuckin’ hurts…” Husk groans before launching into a horrible cough. You stroke his back to try to ease his cough, and you frown at how feverish and slick his skin is. He isn’t doing well at all…

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you ask.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you feel the need to clarify.

“Besides bringing you alcohol?”

“Aw, babe…” he whines as he curls up more tightly. “Some whiskey would help me sleep…”

“If you want to sleep I can find you some cough medicine. That you will take a proper dose of.”

Husk would probably complain further if he wasn’t having another coughing fit.

“Is it me, or is it fuckin’ hot in here…?” he asks after he’s done coughing, his voice hoarse and weak. “Even hotter than normal…”

“That must be the fever…” you say. “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”

As expected, he doesn’t move as you disappear into his bathroom. As you run a washcloth under the tap, the water turned all the way to “cold”, you hear Husk continue to cough and retch.

“I’ll be right there…” you say softly. “Just hold on…”

Once the cloth is soaked through, you return to his bedside, this time sitting so he’s facing you. His eyelids are half shut, and he doesn’t appear to be comprehending much of what he’s seeing.

“Fuckin’ hurts…” he murmurs as his eyes drift closed.

“It’s okay…” you assure him as you lightly dab at his head with the cloth. He hisses through his teeth at first from the cold, but quickly relaxes as you wipe him down.

“Feels good…” he murmurs, eyes still closed. You lightly smile at him as you run the cloth down his cheek, and then his neck.

“Roll over on your back?” you ask him. He groans, but follows your advice, not opening his eyes as he does. Once he’s in position, you drape the cloth over his forehead. “This will cool you down. Rest as much as you need to, okay? The bar can wait.”

“Thanks…” he says, sounding half-asleep. His breathing is so raspy… you hope some rest will take care of that soon. He really seems to be struggling. If only there was more you could do to help…

You know one thing that might make him feel better, if only emotionally. As he continues to lay there peacefully, trying to drift off into sleep, you lean in and gently kiss his cheek.

“Hey!” he says with a growl, swiping his paw at you without opening his eyes. “Are you trying to get yourself sick, too?”

“Don’t you like it when I kiss you?” you ask with a small smile.

“Yeah, but…”

“Having things you like can help you heal quicker,” you say before kissing him again.

“You don’t need this fuckin’ flu… I don’t want you to feel this shitty…” he grumbles, but he doesn’t protest any further than that. You kiss his cheek one last time, then turn off the lights and leave the room so he can rest.

—

About a week later, it’s your turn to feel like shit.

You slowly open your aching eyes, not quite certain where you are. Your own bed at the hotel…? It’s so hard to think when your entire face is stuffed with crap. Your whole body aches, but nothing hurts more than your head, which feels like a tiny imp is trying to claw his way out of your skull.

A cold trickle of water runs down your cheek, and you instinctively reach out your tongue to lick it up. God, you’re so thirsty…

…wait, water? Upon focusing a little more, you notice there’s a wet rag over your forehead.

You can already guess who put that there for you before you turn your head. Husk is kneeled at your bedside, his arms crossed on the mattress. His head is resting on them, and he’s snoring quietly.

Smiling as much as you can given the circumstances, you weakly lift your aching arm and give him a slight scratch behind the ear. He grunts as his eyes slowly open.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Awful.”

He chuckles to himself. “I told ya you didn’t want that shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right…” You’d roll your eyes if you didn’t feel like your face was about to explode. “You can make fun of me when I’m not dying anymore.”

“Deal.”

You close your eyes again, wondering how long it will take for sleep to show its sweet mercy and turn your brain off for a few hours. Before you can fully drift off, you feel weight on the bed next to you.

“Husk?” you ask. “What are you doing?”

“I already got sick. I don’t think I can get it again.” With that excuse, he settles into bed and cuddles up next to you. “What was it you said before? Things you like can make you get better quicker?”

“You’re right… and this is something I like. Thank you…” Before you can try to sleep again, another thought occurs to you. “Cat purrs are supposed to be healing, too…”

Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. You know how insecure he is about his demon form being a cat.

But now doesn’t appear to be the time for insecurity. Without hesitation, he nuzzles his head into your neck, and he starts purring.

You’re asleep in his embrace within minutes.

[cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness]

— “c’mon, i can tell you’re freezing. i won’t tell anyone that you like to be the little spoon, honest:” - For whoever you want to write. <3

I chose to write some fluff for Astarion/Karlach. There's some mild spoilers of Karlach's personal quest, Astarion's backstory and act 2, nothing main plot though. Hope you like it!

Read on Ao3

There were many disadvantages to having a tadpole living freely behind one's eye, namely the unavoidable doom of becoming a mind flayer and having Faerûn destroyed and overrun by an army of said mind flayers.

Astarion understood the fears that struck his companions, he really did, but they were overthrown by the unique benefits that his state of possession had given him. His whole anatomy had been transformed, the rules that he'd followed for two centuries completely turned upside down.

He wasn't under Cazador's beck and call anymore. No more living through the shadows, he could walk under the sun and embrace its warmth once again. He could walk inside any building he wanted without needed to be invited, he could swim in any body of water. He was still bloodthirsty, figuratively and literally, and along the bite scars on his neck and his pallid skintone, those were the only remaining signs of his vampirism.

Hence his lukewarm willfulness at getting rid of the tadpole. If only he had more time to seek someone knowledgeable in ithillids, perhaps they could find to cut contact of the tadpole to the hive and keep it in permanent stasis. Unfortunately time wasn't a luxury they could afford, especially not now that they were in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. If a shadow wasn't trying to get at them, it was some vile creatures ambushing them.

At least the curse wasn't an issue anymore for them, with the blessing of Selûne, but the real problem for Astarion was the overwhelming, bloody cold. He'd forgotten how his body used to be severely influenced by temperatures, and it’d been fine on the Coast with its warm sunny days and temperate nights. But here in these lands, it felt like the chill seeped down to his bones.

It’d been days of this, to the point he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been cold. It wasn’t so bad when they were walking around and getting into everyone’s business, but it was hard to dismiss when they were at camp and resting. The campfire helped somewhat, but he feared that if he sat any closer he’d been sitting in it, and he didn’t want the others to know his predicament.

He trusted them somewhat, but not enough to disclose his discomfort. He wasn’t the only one afflicted by the weather, seeing as Gale was using a spell to keep himself warm and cosy. He hadn’t even offered it to anyone, the prick. Not that Astarion would’ve accepted, mind you, but it appeared wizard schools taught no manners.

He tightened his hold on his thin blanket and sighed. At least everyone were getting ready for sleep. Perhaps he’d find some comfort in his bedroll, if not in meditation. The cold was reminded him of when he’d been trapped in a tomb for a year as punishment. That was why he was reacting so badly to it, he was realising.

“Hey soldier,” Karlach said, joining him by the fire. She probably was immune to the cold, with her engine heart running so hot. They’d visited Dammon to upgrade it a second time, where Astarion had been in earshot when he told her it was only a temporary solution.

“Evening, darling.” Astarion was massaging his stiff hands, not managing to improve their state much.

“I know you’re normally pale, but not this blue pale. Are you feeling alright?”

Astarion hesitated. Beside Wyll, she was the most trustworthy of the companions. She was loyal to a fault, despite being betrayed in the past. He wasn’t sure whether to call it naivete or resilience. “I’m just cold. The curse on these lands, its chill seeps through our blessing it seems.”

Karlach made a sound and approached him. “You should’ve told me, I run almost too hot for this plane after all. Unless you don’t trust that I wouldn’t hurt you, which I understand.”

Astarion shook his head at that. “Would it be too much to say it’s not you, it’s me?” They were only in close proximity and already he could her warmth, the glow of her heart pulsing steadily through her ribcage. It was a beautiful sight, if ignoring the fact it was killing her.

She crouched in front of him and extended her large hands. She wasn’t forcing herself on him, instead letting him choose. He appreciated that.

He slid his hands into hers. They were almost too hot to bear and his body instinctively flinched at the change in temperature, but he held on and soon it felt like his hands were dipped in a hot bath. So good and relieving.

“By the hells, Astarion, you’re freezing,” Karlach said, gripping him before letting go. Astarion almost whined in displeasure. He watched her retrieve her bedroll and spread it beside Astarion’s.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not letting you freeze another night. Help me with this.”

Together they spread the two bedrolls like a makeshift bed so they could both fit underneath. Karlach was the first to slip into it.

“Come on. I won’t tell anyone that you like to be the little spoon, honest.”

Astarion laughed and joined her. It was a tight fit, but Karlach didn’t seem to want space between them. She pulled him against her with a strong arm, hugging him. It felt like his limbs were melting from ice blocks and he could finally have control of his body again.

He liked that she smelled of ashes and fresh air, that her skin was scarred and tough when he rested his hand against her bare back. He’d been fond of her pretty eyes and easy smile for a while but hadn’t acted on it with her whole ‘my skin will burn you’ thing before, but tucked against Karlach, the warmth he felt wasn’t just physical. He felt comfortable and safe.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, soldier.”

[angel-bees]

Nadja x fem reader where reader is her familiar and hasn’t appeared for duties today on account of day 1 menstrual cramping?

I am trying to cope lol and would love some fluff centred around this topic

Hey, anon ✨ Yeah I’m dealing with that too, it sucks 🦇 I hope you like this❤️

Your Turn

Nadja X Fem!Familiar Reader

WARNINGS: menstruation? Mentions of blood for obvious reasons, comfort, fluff

You loved your job as a familiar for Nadja and Laszlo and never late for anything. If Nadja needed something, you were by her side in an instant. Nadja and Laszlo knew that they could rely on you to get any job done without hesitation.

Nadja awoke one evening, calling out for you to help her dress but after a while of waiting, she gave up and dressed herself. Coming downstairs with a wrinkle in her brow, Nadja slumped down with a glass of blood. Laszlo came through with an open book in his hand. He looked up at Nadja, his face immediately clouded with concern.

“ My darling?” His book shut with a thud.

“ Have you seen our familiar?” Nadja asked. “I called for her but she never came to me nor replied.” She sipped her drink and stood up, placing her cup down.

Laszlo frowned and shook his head. “ She didn’t come to you? How peculiar.”

Nadja huffed and walked upstairs to find you, having enough of your tardiness. Her footsteps traveled quickly through the passageways, alerting you of her presence.

You lay in bed, holding your stomach in discomfort, trying to sleep the pain away but to no avail.

Nadja approached your bedroom door, on high alert when her heightened olfactory senses smelt the blood. Naturally, she got a bit hungry but concern soon took over.

Hearing a knock on your door, you covered your face with a blanket. “ Come in.” You called with slight irritation.

Nadja immediately entered. “ Are you hurt?” Panic filtered through her tone. You shook your head. Nadja frowned. “ Did you hide a body?”

You smiled slightly at her silly assumption and shook your head again. “ I’m…just not feeling too well. I’m sorry.” You said softly, shutting your eyes, your back turned to the vampire.

Nadja frowned. “ What is wrong?” You felt a cold hand on your arm, she gently rubbed it in a soothing manner.

“ I’m…on my period.” You responded with embarrassment. You felt Nadja’s hand pause its movements and she let out a sigh.

“ Yes, I remember when I used to have that as a human.” She paused. “ Dear, please face me.” She said softly.

You shut your eyes and sighed, rolling over in bed to face Nadja. You hesitantly looked up at her and she gave you a soft smile.

“ Have you eaten?” She played with your hair. You shook your head and she frowned slightly. “ Okay, I’ll get your shower supplies ready for you and—“

You immediately shook your head. “ N-no, mistress, I’m supposed to be looking after you.” You tried to sit up.

“ And you have, look at me. Undead and well.” She chuckled and walked over to your bathroom, getting your towels and new clothes ready. You watched her shuffle through your wardrobe, finding comfortable attire. This was unlike her — your heart fluttered at her caring demeanor. You hesitantly got out of bed.

“ Darling, you go for a shower and I’ll come back shortly.” She kissed your head and walked out to give you privacy.

You watched Nadja walk out, a small smile on your face. You felt your cheeks burn as you undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade down your body which soothed your pain. You got out of the shower and got ready, dressing into the comfortable clothes that Nadja had set out for you. You smiled slightly and did your facial, trying to avoid any uncomfortable positions.

You exited the bathroom to find Nadja setting down a tray of food and a warm cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

“ You’re out.” She smiled and led you over to the bed, sitting you down “ How are you feeling?” She played with your hair.

“ I’m okay, um, thanks.” You smiled. Nadja handed you the hot chocolate and sat beside you. You couldn’t help but cuddle close to her as you sipped your drink. She pulled you close and planted a kiss on your head.

“ You should tell me when you’re not well, my sweet baby.” Nadja said softly.

“ I don’t like worrying you.” You responded shyly.

Nadja let out a huff and shook her head, eventually peppering kisses over your cheeks. “ Don’t be an idiot. You can never worry me.” She chuckled and got up for a moment, returning with a hot water bottle. She lay down next to you and placed the hot water bottle by your tummy.

“ Aww, thanks.” You smiled and cuddled close to Nadja who held you tightly but tenderly in her arms.

“ Painkillers?” She asked. You nodded and Nadja handed you the bottle of painkillers with a glass of water. You took two and placed the bottle and cup on the bedside table.

“ Thanks, Mistress.”

Nadja shook her head. “ Stop. Call me Nadja.”

You blushed. “ Thanks Nadja.” Nadja pinched your cheek gently, finding your shy demeanor adorable.

She held you close, holding the hot water bottle to your tummy and playing with your hair. Kissing your head, she turned out the light.

“ Maybe a nap will make you feel better?” She asked.

You nodded and looked up at Nadja. She smiled down at you and placed a small kiss on your lips. “ Sleep now, baby.” She said softly, holding you close as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber. “ I…love you.” You heard her whisper as your mind drifted off into the subconscious.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Under The Weather

Because my anxiety is real and it makes me cry and nearly vomit, and won't let me live my life without being hindered.

Arthur but he's taking care of you while you're sick, heavily inspired by this fic by @azures-bazar

Which was lovely by the way so I hope you read this and enjoy it.

Lets go y'all

WARNINGS: Arthur being sweet, you being sick, possible vomitting, and yeah

Tags: @cantchoosejust1 @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @6kaja9

You felt hot, your forehead, your arms, your legs, all of you, felt hot, sweaty, and Horseshoe Overlook wasn't that warm.

You felt dizzy and every step you took was nearly torture.

You felt a lump in the back of your throat that was on the verge of coming up and it made your body scream.

You felt gross, even though you'd already taken a hot bath in town, and it seemed like no matter what you did you were just drained, you could barely keep your eyes open.

The table that you kept wiping beneath you was spinning, which wasn't helping with your dizziness, and before you knew it you felt yourself falling but you were far too weak to stop yourself from hitting the ground.

You braced for the impact, but instead felt the warmth of strong arms around you.

"Woah! Y/N, you been lookin' a little out of it, lucky I was over here, are you alright?"

You blink and look at Arthur Morgan, one of your closest friends, a man who had been nothing but kind to you since you met him, unable to really comprehend what had just happened.

"Hey, you alright?" He asks again, looking down at you in his arms.

"I'm sorry Arthur, I..." you blink and close your eyes. "I'm not feeling that great."

"I can tell that Sweetheart, you're burnin' up."

Arthur sighed and gently helped you stand, gently bringing an arm around your waist, as you leaned against him.

"C'mon, let's get you to my cot, okay?"

"No, I'm alright, I'm...I'll be fine-"

"No you aren't, you're five seconds away from vomitin' all over the place. You're gonna lay down and relax for the rest of the day."

"No, Arthur-"

"Yes."

He manages to get you to his cot, and gently lays you down, oulling the blanket he has over you as well as adding a second pillow under your head as gently as he could.

"Don't even think about movin' I'm gonna get a washcloth."

You're about to protest but before you can he's already turned around and out of sight.

You sigh and close your eyes, looking up at the celing above you.

You didn't want him to see you like this, sick and barely concious.

But you didn't have much choice, you were too weak to do much else but lay where he'd put you.

It only took a moment or two for Arthur to return, a cold washrag in his hand.

Gently he placed it against your forhead, squeezing a little water out against your hot skin.

"Arthur you don't have to-"

"I do, you ain't feelin' well-"

"There's plenty of people in camp who can do this, you have other things to do-"

"Nah, now, you stop that Darlin', I'm done with what I needed to do today, I got all the time in the world."

"But I-" you place an arm over your eyes, your throat closing. You felt like you were gonna be sick.

You groan and listen as Arthur moves a bucket to the side of his bed.

"Jus' try not to get it on me, alright?" He chuckled and for a moment you feel a little better.

"I'll take care of ya, you ate anything today?"

"No, I was afraid it'd make me sick." You mumble quietly.

"You think you can down some crackers for me Sweetheart?"

"Maybe, just a few."

"I'll get some here in a bit, okay?"

You nod, and then quietly you take Arthur's hand.

"Thanks Art."

"Course, I can't let my favorite girl get sick."

You smile and feel your eyes close.

"Are you sure you don't need your cot Arthur?"

"I'm sure, you go to sleep, okay?"

"Okay, I can do that."

........

You wake up feeling warm still and exhausted, your head is warm, and so is your body, but you fear if you expose your arms or legs you'll freeze.

The tent is dark now, its even with the tent flaps open.

You realize after a moment that Arthur's hand rests against your arm, his head lays over your legs.

He was a sweet man, sweeter than what the entire gang deserved, sitting here, taking care of you while you were sick, better than what you would have expected.

You sigh and close your eyes, feeling yourself drifting into sleep again.

You made yourself a mental note to repay him for his kindness, give him something he truly deserved.

[jellyfishsthings]

Warnings: this is going to be a multi part series and it's going to be angsty cause I am in my feels. Female reader, Padmé and Anakin were together but had a healthy break up, Jedi reader so forbidden love.

This story takes plays in Clone Wars yet many events have been changed (like the meeting of Ashoka and Anakin... don't worry the sibling energy is still there.)

series masterlist

The following days are being wasted on boring meetings and tedious training sessions. The only upside is that Ashoka is improving by the day soon she will make it to Commander. And even if we are not allowed to feel anything towards our Jedi companions, I can't help but feel immensely proud for her as she buskes under Anakin's care despite their constant never-ending bickering, as amusing as it is, it can get quite annoying.

I sit cross-legged on the ledge of my window as I nurse a cup of hot chocolate (the one with milk and not that water-based drink that people think is hot chocolate) and one of the remaining five tiny marshmallows floats at the surface. I close my eyes as my body relaxes and my mind floats in an avast nothingness. My energy and my power pours into the Force and I let my essence be tossed around for a while, enjoying the weight that lifted off my shoulders. Then I harness it and bend it to my will as I was taught to do the last few years. At first, it used to be so hard that I spent numerous nights crying myself to sleep because of my inability to control such a huge force of power. But it is as easy as breathing, sometimes if I let my mind slip I do it without my knowledge.

I don't know how long I sit there lost in my play with the Force as the sun's rays warm my body from the inside. I can feel my face heating up from its exposure to the sun and I welcome it with open arms. The hot chocolate that I carefully cradle in my arms has now turned cold as someone is hugging me from behind. His essence is so recognisable in Force to me as the sky is blue. He gently sets his chin at the top of my head and we sit quietly there.

Our peace though is short-lived as our beepers go off like crazy and with great reluctance, we part as Anakin answers his. As a message floats in the air. Help is needed in Tatooine. The Empire plans to strike the civilians. We change in our armours in silence as we walk towards Ani's space shuttle, one that he hasn't crashed yet, as fast as possible and we find Artoo already in his seat and Ashoka turning on the engines. In a few short minutes, we are good to go and enter at lightspeed hoping to get there before it's too late.

We sit quietly as we both stare at the blurry stars and I chuckle as I hear a soft snore coming from behind me. I slightly turn my head and I catch with the edge of my eye Ashoka as she is huddled in a corner covered with multiple blankets. I turn to look at Anakin, who sniggers under his breath as he stares at her with love and devotion as much as fierce protectiveness. I admire him, his unguarded expression and the clear enjoyment sparks in his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” I whisper, hating to break this light atmosphere.

“About what?” he asks slowly, playing to be dumb but unfortunately for him, two can play this game.

“About that racing match? I think I should bet on the Velvet Thunder.” I say to him deadpanned.

“Oh well, I was thinking that the Purple Stars have a better chance at winning this time.” He says playing along and I hum as I stare at him waiting for his resolve to break.

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Just your thoughts or your feelings it used to be your home, Ani -”

“It never was.”

“ - And there are innocent people -

“More like slave makers!”

“ - who are in danger. I know that it was hard Ani. I get it but think of those people who are enslaved and can't protect themselves -”

“That's a bit much because they always made my life a living hell.”

“ - or your family.”

At that, he finally falls silent and he says under his breath. “They never were my family. They always thought I was bad news and that I was the black sheep of the family. The only family I had, lays now cold in the ground. The Empire can extinct them all for all I care.”

“You don't mean that”

“What if I do? Would you be scared of me? Or draw away? Just like the others? Because they can't face the Chosen One?” He says bitterly.

“I would never leave you. You know that. And I also know that you might think that you want that but you don't actually want it to happen. Because if you did you wouldn't have made it this far.”

“Sometimes I think … I lose myself in bad thoughts, in my anger, my envy , in my …. in my pain. And then you come along and you pull my right back. How do you do that? How do you know?”

I am startled by his admission and it hits a bit to close at home as flushes of images from those wretched dreams fill my head. The ones were Anakins lovely blue eyes have turned to an angry yellow and are slit apart by a blank line. Or the ones where his robes, long and dark as the midnight sky are slightly burned and his hand holds a bright red lightsaber. All the visions have been dark and twisted in their own independent way, haunting me for weeks as they include post apocalyptic sceneries and a mass destruction of the world as we know it. And in the middle of it all stands none other but sweet Ani. I haven't told anyone about those disturbing dreams, thinking that it was a cruel move by the stars for defining the rules and the Jedi code for forbidden love. But the feel more profeting that anything else. A glimpse of the future or a possible, alternating future if I had my say in it. A chill slide down my spine at the idea of actually losing Ani. And I make a reckless decision. I could stop it, no matter what the price… couldn't I?

“She would have been proud of you, you know. Of the man you have become.” I say to him, my mind made up and so help me gods I will see it done. Anything to keep him safe. Somewhere above I can hear the stars, fate or whatever Force laugh at me but if I have to I will tire then from the sky for him.

“How do you know?” He asks suddenly shy as his insecurities take of his usually cool demeanour. And I smile softly at him cupping his jaw saying “Because I am.” And kissing him lightly on his lips, once again hopeful because there might be a chance to keep him safe.

A big jolt rattles the ship as we exit lightspeed and Anakin sucks a deep breath focusing on piloting once again. And a sleepy “What? I wasn't sleeping…” sounds from the back of my seat and a fond smile capture my face as I relax myself in my seat, preparing for the upcoming battle.

words:1.217

[velneer]

A pup to remember [pt. 1]

Velvet, Veneer, and a puppy. What could go wrong?

First story here. Hopefully it makes sense cause I'm sleep deprived at the moment. Also, I'm making it into two parts. I swear it's a one shot but it kinda turned into a two shot.

ps. English isn't my first language. Also, I'll fix this in the morning.

Characters: Velvet x Veneer

Warnings: brother/sister relationship, a little hint of incest if you squint hard enough. Not much warning here. Velvet is really really sleepy though.

Masterlist

Mornings were never Velvet's type. The loud horns of the cars and the morning sun hitting her eyes ruined her perfectly beautiful sleep, it was soooo not cool.

Veneer was different. Instead of getting annoyed by the horns or the sun interrupting his beauty sleep, he'd make all those things his alarm clock. Always says the stupid quote that he got from the troll they keep in their recording room at work. "The early bird gets to sing the first note of the day!" or so it goes.

That's why standing near the kitchen counter preparing her coffee early in the morning on a Saturday, Velvet wished she was back in her cozy bed sleeping the morning way.

She already made up her mind to leave the coffee behind to return to her bed until Veneer walked in calling out her name in excitement.

"Vel! Vel!"

"What?" She groaned, taking the cup out of the machine, which was still pouring out the coffee to take a sip.

"Can we keep him?" Veneer asked, eyes sparkling in hope while looking at his sister.

Velvet looked at him in confusion, sleepy mind not following on what he meant. She was about to question him until she heard a bark.

The drink in her hand was completely forgotten as she stared wide-eyed at the thing that made the noise. "What's that?" She asked, her free hand pointing below to where Veneer stands.

"It's a puppy!" Veneer exclaimed excitedly, both arms opening wide towards the small dog, emphasizing the clueless puppy who was happily wagging his tail on the floor.

"I found him on the streets. He was so cute all whining and shivering from the cold. He reminded me of you when snow falls; always wanting to snuggle up underneath a warm blanket and demanding hot cocoa."

"Hold up, bro. Did you just say I'm a dog?" Velvet asked, eyes narrowing, offended by the thought.

"Oh no! I think you're more of a cat, honestly." He said while picking up the cute dog. " You have very sharp nails too. I still have the scratches on my back, by the way, new ones too from last night. Luckily, we don't have a photoshoot this week, or the next, cause I'd have to find an excuse as to why I can't wear anything backless for the shot."

The puppy in Veneer's arms wiggled trying to get down. Both the siblings' attention reverted back to the puppy whose tongue was now out. Its saliva dripped on the clean floor making both of them cringed.

Without a clue, the puppy happily wiggled its tail, rolling over as if demanding to be petted in his belly.

"Awww. Vel, can we keep him?"

Velvet looked towards Veneer as if he'd grown a second head. "Are you kidding me?" She asked. "It was literally making a dog spit puddle in the middle of our kitchen floor a while ago and you still want to keep it?"

Going up to his sister, Veneer did his best to make puppy dog eyes in hopes of swaying his sister's opinion to keep the small dog. His energy seemed to have affected the puppy as it got down to its front legs whining cutely.

"It's too early for this," Velvet mumbled, putting her hands up in surrender. She left the coffee, walked towards the living room, and sat down on the couch quite dramatically, sighing in relief to finally get her feet off the ground.

Veneer and the puppy followed her, both eyes wide expecting an answer from the girl who would decide their fates.

Velvet couldn't help but groan in annoyance knowing that Veneer would not leave her alone until she answered.

"Look, I don't even want to know where you got it. But—" She knows when she wakes up, she'd blame her sleepiness for giving out this answer. "—fine, you can keep it."

Perking up from the news, Veneer stood up to raise the puppy in the air. His excitement was so contagious that even the puppy let out happy barks as they spun around in celebration.

"You hear that boy! I get to keep you!"

As both Veneer and the puppy's excitement mellowed down, Velvet continued, fighting off the heaviness of her eyelids to give out her condition before she fell asleep on the warm cozy couch.

"I have conditions. So listen up."

Standing in attention, Veneer looked up expectantly. The puppy in his arms grew silent, curiously watching the exchange.

"I'm listening."

"As he stays here, you will be in charge of it. Meaning, if it poops, pees, or breaks anything. You, my dear little brother, will take full responsibility. You will also need to clean up after it, and I swear, if it breaks anything important there will be no getting cozy under the blanket for the rest of the week."

Veneer, with a look of nervousness on his face, slowly nodded in agreement. He definitely can clean up after a puppy. It wouldn't be that hard, right?

Part 1 | Part 2

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟭 𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Suitor's POV's are getting shorter and shorter (っ- ‸ – ς) and more flashbacks for this one

CW: Gil strangling Emma/Reader

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

I knew that if I brought her to Obsidian, she would notice it at some point.

My body is already at its limits, and I have been sentenced to die at any moment.

If I have a seizure, I will leave immediately, and even in my daily life, my heart hurts and I cannot even breathe.

Until now, I've been able to deceive them, but the current situation is that even that is becoming more and more difficult.

(… I'm giving up.)   //   (… I'm sorry.) **

When I woke up, the seizure had subsided, and the little rabbit was sleeping by the bed.

I wish it had been a dream, but it seems that the fact that the little rabbit found it is real.

(If someone finds out about my illness, I'll have to kill them.)

Emma: "Nnn..."

When I move, the little rabbit almost slips off the bed.

I quickly grabbed her and gently pulled her into the sheets so as not to wake her up.

Even though I covered her with a blanket and treated her like a hugging pillow, her eyes would not open.

She was apparently quite tired.

(... Your eyes, they're all swollen...)

(Damn, that Walter...)

I can't even hope to hear anything about it.

(What should I do when she wakes up?)

══════════════════

Eventually, as the morning sun rose and the room was filled with light, there was still no conclusion reached...

I sighed a big sigh, and the little rabbit began to squirm in my arms.

Gilbert: "Good morning, Little Bunny."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

(After all… if you open your eyes, you'll understand even if you don't like it.)

Gilbert: "Wow, you look terrible. You have dark circles under your eyes."

When I trace my finger around her eyes, I see a wrinkle between her eyebrows, as if they are swollen and sore.

Emma: "Lord… Gil… bert."

(... I wish you didn't know anything about it.)

After waking up from sleep, the little rabbit grabs me by the shirt and presses her forehead against my heart.

She’s warm enough to be hot for my cold body.

Gilbert: "From the way you reacted... that guy must have told you everything."

(Now that my illness is known, I can't let the little rabbit go.)

(... Otherwise, it would be a problem for the plan.)

Even if I die of an illness, it must be a secret.

Just as Rhodolite covered up the death of His Majesty the King,

My own death at Obsidian has a wide range of effects.

And the absence of the royal family could lead to an invasion by an enemy nation,

There is a possibility that the remaining aristocrats in the country will do as they please and return the country to its former state of corruption.

(I'm ready for a "substitute," but the little rabbit will definitely notice that it's not me.)

Even if the little rabbit promised not to tell anyone, she is not good at lying.

There's no guarantee that she'll do well without being noticed.

(But if you don't know anything about it...)

(If you decide not to go any further—)

Emma: "I was told... that you had little time to live."

(. . . . . .)

Emma: "I can't... pretend that I didn't know."

Gilbert: "… Yes."

(I'm not going to pretend this didn't happen...)

(—… You stupid little rabbit.)

Gilbert: "If that's your choice."

Pulling away with strong force, I straddled the little rabbit's body.

(You would have guessed that if you stepped in, you would be killed.)

(But... with this, I wonder if I can die with no regrets.)

(If the little rabbit has died, I, too... have nothing left to regret.)

I put my hand on her slender neck and tightened her windpipe.

Emma: "…haa…ha……aah."

Gilbert: "I don't make exceptions, even for you."

Gilbert: "If you knew, I'd kill you."

The little rabbit grabs my hand so hard that her nails dig in, and she resists death.

For the time being, she had no intention of getting killed quietly. **

(I've been nice to you for so long, I guess you misunderstood me.)

(I wonder if it was an illusion that she was the only one who wouldn't be killed or something.)

Blood oozes on the back of my hand.

It was painful.

It hurt even more than when I was having a seizure and couldn't breathe.

Emma: "I won't... tell... anyone."

Gilbert: "I don't believe in humans."

Gilbert: "I'm a beast who decided not to love anyone. I can pretend to be good friends and calmly kill you."   //   "I am a beast who has decided not to love anyone. I could pretend to be a good friend and kill you with impunity."

Gilbert: "I think I've said something similar before."

The more I strangle the little rabbit, somehow, the more painful it becomes for me.

I even had the illusion that my own neck was being tightened.

(When I kill someone, I don't think or feel anything. I threw those feelings away a long time ago.)

If so, then what is this pain and suffering?

I don't understand what it means.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "... I caught you off guard, didn't I?"

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "I got you!"

Gilbert: "Even though you're scared of me."

Emma: "That's not what I'm talking about. I hate to lose."

══════════════════

Emma: "Even if the other party is a prince of an enemy country, even if he doesn't see people as humans."

Emma: "That's not a good reason to lack civility."

Emma: "This thank you is just self-satisfaction. It felt good to be able to tell you."

Emma: "I think I'll sleep better tonight."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(Ah... why at a time like this—)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "I don't think you killed them."

Gilbert: "… A hunch?"

Emma: "Just a hunch..."

Emma: "If you've forgotten about loneliness... it means that you used to be lonely a lot."

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

══════════════════

Gilbert: "Ah, Little Bunny... Are you thinking of something naughty again?"

Emma: "I'm not thinking of it!"

Gilbert: "Haa… Little Bunny is as warm as ever."

Gilbert: "Obsidian is such a cold country, so I want to take you home with me."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(This isn't even my first kill... Why—)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "Lord Gilbert is my friend."

Emma: "… If you're my friend, don't try to leave me."

Emma: "I... did not dislike Lord Gilbert's malicious kindness."

Emma: "Why would I want to kill such a person?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "—Please…"

A hoarse voice spills out in shallow breaths.

Emma: "I-I'm…—"

Emma: "… Your friend…"

(. . . . . .)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Albert: "Listen, Gil. I'm on your side no matter what."

Albert: "I promise. I promise I won't leave you alone. Okay...?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "… What friend."

I found myself letting go.   //   I found myself letting go of my hands.

I didn't mean to let go, but it was moving on its own.

The little rabbit remains limp and does not open her eyes.

When I touched her mouth with a slightly trembling hand, I felt her breathing weakly.

At the moment, the breath that came out of my mouth was tinged with relief.

Blood drips from my torn skin and stains the little rabbit's white blouse.

Gilbert: "It's that guy who betrays me the most."   //   "Such a person betrayed me." **

Gilbert: "… You'd betray me, too."   //   "Even you would betray me."

(I can't kill her...)

(… I couldn't kill her.)

This is a serious situation.

Emotions that should have been there in the past burst forth and overflowed.

I thought it was something I had let go of since I became the trampling beast, but,

It remained firmly in my heart, apparently.

(Love… no one.)   //   (I love …no one.)

(… I had decided not to love you.)

I grasp my fingertips and put my forehead on the shoulder of the little rabbit, who has stopped moving.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "… How can I turn you back into a person?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It's painful. It hurts. It hurts——…

(I...)

(I didn't want to be a person again.)

[ruershrimo]

like it’s the old love. | part 1.1 | “winter beach”

masterlist | next

features albedo

warnings: fem!reader, a few ships, like ganqing and xingyun. but other than that there’s nothing, though you could ask me to add them if there’s anything you’d like me to put tws of!!

notes: woo new series lesgo lesgo!! seriously though, I hope this doesn’t end up being another tiatt,,,, (I’m still working on tiatt I promise)

summary: a walk on the beach in winter hits the spot. spending time with albedo, your all-too-perfect best friend, does that better. the two of you come up with an arrangement, after.

The sand lies by the banks like brown sugar sprinkled on a pastry, warm and sweet and comforting. It’s that perfect, pleasant time in winter— when it’s not too cold, or not too warm that it still feels like autumn, and your fingers only feel like frost if you’ve dipped them in unheated water or gone on without stuffing your hands in your pockets for too long. Winter to the two of you isn’t like the rush of snowflakes, or being huddled up in blankets with hot chocolates– though, a hot chocolate would be a welcome surprise for you right now— it’s visiting the beach when the air’s not too frigid that you’ll be blowing your fingers off later and the water at home will still feel tepid enough to keep you warm after. It’s sleeping in his parents’ used car after a chapter in a book; it’s silence or empty exchanges between you and Albedo that keep you close, connected at the hip all the same whenever you’re together.

There’s pink dusting his cheeks and nose, at the porcelain paleness of his complexion. You have to squint every time your mother is about to take a picture: the wind’s whooshing heads straight to your eyes, so it’s not like you can open them much— and his hair. 

He tugs on your coat as he always has. “Cold?” you ask, turning to him. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’ve to show you some of the seashells.” 

He guides you to different spots, ones you think could be a collector’s treasure troves. Since you were young, you’d never really gone out much: your parents only had time to spare for work, and they never had more time to introduce you to any of their friends’ children, or re-introduce you to the ones you’d known from the time when you were in diapers— the only exception being Albedo, of course. The one who’d become your closest friend, no matter how far from him you lived, or the fact that you only visited him and his mother and sister, Alice and Klee, in Mondstadt every holiday you had (and holidays were scarce, especially back home in Liyue). No matter what, he’s still the one who’ll blow on your fingers for you, who’ll find trinkets and gifts from everywhere he knows about more than you do. 

You bend down to unearth one from its blanket of sand as you did to your hands from your pockets. The cold prickles at your fingertips. 

The seashell— or perhaps it’s not a seashell but that of a clam, you don’t visit the beach that often anyway— is a deep marine, with waves of white on it like a rippling in the water or the wind playing with silk. How mystical, you think, no matter how normal it seems or how stupid you sound finding a clam’s shell captivating: that a jewel without any acclaim for its beauty is still a jewel, and even more so once it's observed. 

You stand up again. 

“Think I could keep one of these?” you jest. “I had this friend once, whose grandfather went to these beaches for her grandmother. He collected lots of shells until he had a bag of them, and brought them back to his wife. Must’ve had a nice thing going on there.” 

“I don’t think so. I’ve been told that that’s illegal,” he answers, nonchalantly. “And I don’t think you want those crimes on your track record. Though I could collect some of them for you if you’d like—” 

“No, it’s really alright— I was just joking,” you chuckle. “Don’t think it would do you too good if you had those on your track record, either. Didn’t expect you to take it so seriously.” 

“I’d manage,” he replies. “My mother told me she’d have a place for me, anyway.” 

You narrow your eyes in confusion. “But Alice doesn’t—? Oh…” He’s talking about Rhinedottir. “You still call her your mother? Wait, you don’t have to reply, just got confused, sorry if I’m overstepping anything or prying into things too much.” 

“It’s really alright,” he states. His expression stays the same: a blank slate, yet so… human? There’s something about his face that places his identity firmly onto him, even if it barely changes. Sometimes you wonder how he can keep himself so level, so calm and unchanging each time. And then you give up because you’ve never found an answer and never will. 

Silence pushes itself onto the two of you for a while, the waves crash on the shore leaving bubbles that remind you of milky foam on hot coffee. The sky and the sea are almost one, like those art pieces in watercolour where the colours get darker on the paper the more brushstrokes you apply over their spots. It’s clear and undisturbed, a picture-perfect view of an image you can hear the sea from, a mosaic of sea, sky and sand. 

“Oh, god, my hands are getting numb— how can your hands stand it?” 

He brings your hands to his fingers, pale and long and probably quite lithe with a pen on paper, rubs them over yours, and lays his breath on them. It’s warm. 

“That’s what happens if you keep them out of your pockets for too long,” he says. “You’ll enjoy it once you get used to it. Then you’ll start to love what you’ve never noticed the joy of before.” 

“I’m not saying I don’t like the cold, I’m just not used to the numbness. It stings, really. I guess I’m quite lucky to have you here with me,” you smile. 

He smiles right back at you. “Then it’s fortunate that I’ll always be here to warm them up for you.” 

For a moment everything feels perfect— it’s the best winter break you could have asked for during your gap year, before you enter university. The sun is enveloped in the embrace of pillowy clouds, hidden from the sky. The scent of the sea fills the beach and your hands cling clumsily onto his comfortable jacket while the waves laugh along. For a moment it’s all familiarity with the unfamiliar; it’s visiting the beach like you’d done the year before, yet feeling how unknown it all is to you again. It’s seeing him again and knowing everything and nothing about him. 

“Could I borrow your phone real quick?” you request, hands mimicking the click of a camera. “I want to take a picture.” 

“You don’t have your own?” 

You make a short mime act of fishing something out of your empty pockets, before turning them inside-out, holding your also empty hands up for him to see. 

He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Here.” 

You swiftly snatch it from his hands. “Thanks.” 

Hands in his pockets he turns his head down toward the sand, the trees behind the beach swaying somewhat hesitantly along with the early winter wind. 

“Click, click— okay, pose!” 

In the photo his eyes are fully dilated, every other bit of his stolid expression still intact. 

“I can’t believe I actually got a picture of an Albedo expression! Wait, hold on, I’m going to save it in my favourites real quick,” you giggle, but soon it turns into an onslaught of guffaws. “You should make it into your profile picture instead of that passport photo.” 

You quickly stuff your hands back in your pockets, the phone still with you: you don’t want them to be numb again. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks you, though there’s a teasing lilt subtly hidden in his monotonous voice. “And here I thought you wanted a picture of the scenery.”

 “I will, but I still have to take pictures of you too. You’re part of the scenery,” you jokingly reply. “And yes. Thanks for bringing me out here again—” 

“Why don’t we go closer to the water?” 

“Huh—? Ah, sure, but wouldn’t I be getting cold again?” 

“I’ll warn your fingers again once we get in my car, after my mother notifies us of when we can drive home.” Now he’s talking about Alice. “And you’ll get to take more pictures, too.”

So you acquiesce, and gaze down at the ground, at your shoes trailing behind his, leaving solemarks on the sand. It seems as if pieces of shells or whole shells themselves were sprinkled on the ground like speckles of unstirred sugar on a warm beverage. 

You wish you could find a conch to hear the waves’ melody forever. You snap a few pictures before locking the phone between your arm and torso, about to dip your hands in the water— he said he’d help you warm them after, anyway—

He steals his phone back—

“Hey!” you shout, but he already has the phone, and you can already see the light from the flash rapidly appearing and disappearing. “Albedo! Stop!” you order, but it comes out more like unadulterated laughter, tinged with a slight amount of faux disbelief. You try to push it out from the grasp of his hands. 

A seagull passes by, the white of its plumage temporarily covering the two of you. 

And all the play fighting and goofiness… feels good. Wonderfully so. It’s the best you’ve felt in a year, since the last time you and him had met. At home where your parents are usually busy, you’re a different person, a result of having to change from a child to a little adult for the approval of those who make up your life. But here you’re free, at least for a little while; you’re allowed at least a moment of respite, when you’re thousands of kilometres away from home. 

Two giggling children, having fun and being young as if there’s no tomorrow. The two of you have your lives, it’s events stacked before you like dominoes meant to be pushed at the end of your gap years— Albedo has a promising future of being a chemist, like his mother, ahead of him, already on the Sumeru Akademiya track; you’ve got your life back at home, where you have to study, appease your parents enough and go through three years of university until you’ll be an adult in the working world. 

And you probably won’t see him again. 

Or you will, but it won’t be the same— it’s as if he’s a part of childhood, your fountain of youth. You meet him and again you’ve rejuvenated the parts of you that are just two kids who know nothing about each other yet love each other regardless, so unlike the adults you have to be when you’re apart. So without that tiny, drowning part of your child self, how will your interactions be? When that part of you is dead, dried out like a wilted plant, what will happen to the two of you? What will be left but awkward, uncomfortable silence and typical adults’ perfunctory gestures? 

“Albedo! [Name]!” 

The two of you turn behind, stopping yourselves immediately. Your thoughts are torn from you like wet paper. 

“Klee! Don’t run too fast, you’ll trip yourself—” her elder brother warns. 

She speeds up on the sand, scampering excitedly toward the two of you. 

“Oh, she’ll be just fine,” you reassure him. 

Behind her Alice follows, her face like the warm glow of sunlight peeking through winter weather, strolling along. 

“Hi, Klee!” You squat down. 

“How was the walk?” Albedo’s head turns up to meet his mother. 

“It went well. We’ve got to go back in the car soon, though,” she clicked her tongue playfully. “Someone has to go to take a nap once we get back home.” 

(“But I don’t wanna,” Klee frowns. 

“Oh well, Albedo and I will be sleeping too, anyway, so you won’t be missing anything”, you tell her.) 

“You can just text me once you’ve arrived back home. On a side note, though,” she turns to you. “How was your walk?” 

“[Name] tried to steal my phone.” 

“Hey, you can’t say that, I was trying to take a picture!” you retort. “And you stole it back!” 

—

He helps you into the front passenger seat, shutting the car door behind you as you enter. 

You gaze at him as he’s outside, the inside of the car— his car, god, the two of you can drive now— a little world you’ve been suspended in. Same eyes, same cheeks, same face as when you first met. You hope that in the future, nothing changes at all. He’s science and he’s magic, he’s pale blonde hair and striking, inquisitive blue eyes in black winter jackets and white lab coats and button-up shirts. He’s your best friend, he’s someone you rarely meet, he’s someone you’re splitting paths with. There’s a chill from the air that lingers on your skin and if you exhale you can still see your breath disappearing into the air, but you’re lumped under your layered jackets and soon you feel warm as his hands lie on the steering wheel. 

He’s there and it’s warm and familiar and you wish you could stay with him forever. Yet your heart is full of jealousy and worry— he has everything figured out for him, decided for him. He is the boy genius, the prodigy, and you’re someone who doesn’t want to grow up yet because—

“I’ll send you the pictures later,” he reports, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“That would be great, thanks,” you smile, checking the time on your phone for no reason. “So, how’s life at the Akademiya?” 

From him comes a little hum. “I’ve been alright,” he says. “What I’ve heard from my seniors about the difficulties of studying didn’t seem to affect me much.”

“Ah, I get that. But that’s because you’re smart,” you compliment, though you’re quite sure that he, with his kind of genius, has heard that a million times over. (But you can’t help but bring it up sometimes— if only he’d be a bit meaner about it, less modest or less kind— you’d feel better. Happier. Less envious. Still, that kind of thinking was selfish, meant to be bitten back by your throat forever.) 

He makes another noise— a little, hesitant one of discomfort. 

“But anyway,” you continue, “Any plans yet for your post-Akademiya days?” 

“No— well, I can always go to Mother’s,” he starts, “But I want to continue painting. I fear that if I work with her, even if I’ll still be in Mondstadt most of the time, I won’t have much time left for other activities— like painting and taking care of Klee,” he pauses. “Or taking care of you every time you come back.” 

“Nah, I’m the one who takes care of you,” you playfully retort. “Still, seriously: if you feel like you want to focus on art instead or find a job that lets you keep both science and art, just go for it. You don’t have to stay with Auntie Rhine.” 

You’ve seen his work before, though. Pure masterpieces, all of them: only he can pick out such exquisite colours and paint them in such a methodical manner to produce an item so beautiful, so mesmerising. It’s as if his everything, from painting to work, is built from the foundation of scientific procedures and observation. The first time he had shown you his artwork— the piece in question being a sketch of two butterflies— was a few years ago, and after that you had asked him why he was planning to go to Spantamad instead of Khsharewar. 

“I know that,” he replies. “But thank you. How about you?” 

“I’ve just been how I’ve always been. Nothing’s changed all that much.” 

He’s out here, accomplishing so many things, set to have a bright, fulfilling future; you’re here, taking a gap year not for a break but because of uncertainty, because you’re unsure of what you want to do and who you want to be, a leech on and a burden to your parents who send you away to live with someone else while they’re busy. It’s because you’re scared of not going through the full coming-of-age experience, of optimising the last year you get to be a child, before you become an adult with an empty life (at least, that’s how you think things will end up like for you— being a corporate slave or plain business owner dragging your parents’ hard work through the ground, with only dead dreams and student loans to your name).

And what of everyone else back at home? You tried to get with many friends of yours, giving them support, encouragement and advice when you could. They would all find in you a person to confide in, and you’d be pleased, thinking that you could confide in them too. However, they would then tell you that they’d been infatuated with someone else for a long time or would never be interested in someone before you would have the chance to confess, ever terrified of rejection. 

You fell at every chance you could, just for an opportunity to have a fling, or some kind of love like the types in fairytales and romcoms. All that just to fail and feel lonely in the end. 

You’d really like to say Albedo was an exception. In some ways he was. Yet in other ways he wasn’t— he’s definitely not much different from them, though. Just someone you think you should go for no matter how much he exists outside of your league. Still, you think there’s much reason to be less shy around him, less bashful. 

The rest of the drive is silent, and you don’t know if it’s him understanding you or not knowing what to say (though he always knows what to say, no? Is staying quiet the best he can do for you right now?)— he makes a few turns and soon the two of you are on the highway, heading back to the suburbs. You didn’t suggest any music. You just took the silence in and enjoyed it with him. 

Raindrops begin to fall, lulling you to sleep. He’s still steering the wheel, steady and calm and undisturbed, as your eyes start to close. 

When you’re there he stops the car and starts to unfasten his seatbelt. He turns to you. 

“Tired?” 

“A bit. And I don’t want to be out in the rain…” 

“You can sleep here if you’d like.” 

(“...you actually waited?” you ask, groggily. “I thought I’d only be sleeping for five minutes, and then you’d wake me up and drag me to bed.” 

“Morning,” he greets. “You slept for a whole hour.” 

You groan. “What about Klee and Auntie Alice?”

“They’re in the house.”)

—

You spend the next few hours in the house with Albedo, staring up at the ceiling. It’s golden hour, the sky still painted a mix of both warm and cool hues. The clouds gather above you, though they’ll probably be gone soon enough without any rain or snow. 

A chuckle erupts. 

You laugh, but it tapers off all too soon. 

He’s always been perfect, you think— like a prince out of a fairytale. 

(You don’t know if that makes you hate him or love him.)

When you were little and would visit them, a tiny child with tiny clothes and a tinier suitcase your parents had packed for you, you would scamper your way to Alice before she would read you a fairytale every night. Sometimes Albedo would join. Whenever Rhinedottir wasn’t around, even though he would be fine sleeping alone, he’d still prefer to sleep in the same room as you. 

Over time, as the two of you grew up, Rhinedottir’s appearances slowly dwindled. In your head you had once likened Rhinedottir’s growing lack of presence to the sun during a storm. It was always there at first, though as the clouds began to gather, it would soon be engulfed by dark, dust-like clouds, and no matter how much you enjoyed the storm you would wonder where the sun had gone. 

“And so, the baby princess was cursed. The witches rushed to keep her somewhere safe—” Alice recited, to which Albedo questioned, “Weren’t witches bad?” 

“No, they’re good witches!” you corrected him. “They took care of the princess!” 

Alice giggled. “Oh, yes, my dear. The good witches had placed the princess under their care right after they had heard the curse fall from the wretched witch’s mouth. They hoped to avoid such a fate,” she said. “Yet if there’s one thing you should know, it is that you can never evade the inevitable. You’ll understand once you’re older. 

“Soon, the princess grew to be a beautiful maiden, unbeknownst to the fact that she had been born royal all along. She cared for the animals in the wood where she’d grown, and sang songs of romance, love and freedom while dancing with the flora and fauna. Under the moonlit, starry sky and the towering trees she dreamed of falling in love with and marrying a prince. And he was a rather handsome one, at that. 

“On a day meant to be much like the others, she wandered a bit too far from where she was accustomed to, before she met a beautiful prince. They fell in love at first sight, and decided to get married.” 

“But that would be bringing the curse to her!” you panicked. Albedo stayed silent. 

“Ah, yes, and the wretched witch from before— the one who had cursed the dear princess— sought the engaged prince and princess out, and hypnotised the princess. She was put in a trance, and ended up pricking her finger anyway. Then she and the whole of the kingdom were put in a deep sleep, while nature would be set to reclaim it for a hundred years.” 

“Oh no!” 

“But don’t fret— the good witches were alive, and hurried to wake the prince.” 

“Does he save the princess?” you asked. 

“Why, yes. But she saved herself, too. And their love was what saved the kingdom, for he stood by her side and gave her a true love’s kiss, giving her the strength to think again and rouse herself from her slumber. 

“They soon headed to defeat that wretched, wretched witch, and they succeeded. The people rejoiced, having been saved, and the prince and princess were safely wedded, ruling as king and queen for half a century over the prosperous kingdom.” 

“Woah,” you breathed out. 

Beside you, Albedo was already asleep, eyes shut tight in a slumber as deep as the princess’s. 

“He fell asleep!” 

“Well, I suppose it is getting late,” Alice chuckled, turning the bedside lamp off and tucking you in. “Goodnight, [name] and Albedo.” 

Suddenly, your eyelids felt as heavy as rocks. “Goodnight, Alice…” 

You wished you had a prince, too. Or a princess. Just someone in general. 

(The morning after that, you woke up, and beside you there was no Albedo. He was always, always, one step ahead of you. Maybe you would always be chasing him.

You then headed back to your parents’ home, ready to start school again.) 

“Hey.” You turn to him out of the blue. “Remember the fairytale about the sleeping princess?” 

“...Sleeping Beauty?” 

In fairytales the main characters marry each other; in romcoms the leading characters fall in love. In books the girls are smart, ending up with the people they want. In stories they are not useless; in fiction the characters accomplish things and live their lives to the fullest without wasting any time. 

So you, clouded in your envy for life and joy and excitement, at least for one year, want that too. To be young and free and in love. And then, you’d be alright with being a corporate slave, or with handling the mundanity of your parents’ work while your much more successful relatives watched and judged you, pitying you for the life you’d found yourself forever trapped in (at least, you think they’d do that). 

“Yeah. Are you familiar with the concept of coming-of-age?” 

“Yes, but why…?” 

“Just wanted to know. That’s good, though. 

“I’m going to ask something of you, so please forget it if you don’t want to.” 

For a moment you can see the ever-stoic Albedo gulp, his eyes laser-focused on yours, deep with inquisitiveness and a slight bit of shock. You tightened your hands on his shoulders. 

Outside, the sun has already begun to set, the light blending into the growing intensity of a post-golden hour sky’s marine hue. The clouds have all but dissipated. 

Of all the ideas you’ve had, this is by far the most stupid, dignity-reducing one that you have ever had in that scattered brain of yours

“Date me. I’m a forever young adult-ish soul stuck in a growing person’s body with no life at all who only stops being a ghost when I’m miles away from home. I’ve always struggled with finding someone, so I couldn’t have my coming-of-age adventure or my summer fling. And it’s not like I could have found that kind of adventure with friends anyway, since I’m not as close to anyone as I’ve always been with you, and they’re all people who would never fall in love with me,” you ramble. 

Albedo, reduced to a gaping fish out of water, jaw barely clinging onto his fair face. 

“So I’ve always wanted to ask that if you, because you’re close to me, and I know that it may be a waste of time for you, so I just want to try my luck and if it doesn’t lead to anything or if you don’t want it then you can just forget whatever I said—”

The words stop tumbling out of your mouth for a while. You gaze at him, something indescribable and indecipherable in his eyes, like a snow globe that you can’t look clearly into. He’s staring up at you, and what is he thinking, you wonder and worry, what is he thinking of saying? Will he decline and will he forget? Can you even entertain the notion that he wouldn’t? 

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll do it.” 

“Okay,” you reply. And suddenly it hits, because for the first time even if out of pity due to your pathetic desperation someone is willing to love you or at least act like it. It’s completely quiet before tears roll down your cheeks like they’re from a garden’s canister, as if it’s water trickling down the leaves of plants and onto their patches of soil. He begins to worry, you can tell from the rush of his fingers to rub them off and wipe them dry, to which you assure him that you’re just alright. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to get much better at acting.” 

“Maybe I won’t be acting at all,” he says, and you swear it’s merely a joke of his, so a little grin breaks out on your face. And the only emotion you can understand amidst the sea of his eyes is relief. “I hope you enjoy it, your small fling. I hope you enjoy your young adult novel gap year.”

You giggle a bit harder, inhaling loudly. “Yeah. Best summer fling— one for the best books in YA fiction, I’d say.” 

And in that moment while you bring him to you and hug his chest as tight as you can, the two of you laugh and laugh and laugh, until you’re silent, face still sore with remnants of the sudden smiles stuck on your faces. In that moment you forget your jealousy and keep only your joy alive, like a candle finally reaching that temporary moment with nothing around to destroy it. 

“…But it’s winter, not summer.” 

His sudden remark is so ridiculous that it makes you laugh, playfully swatting at his arm. “I’ll be here for a whole year,” you smile. Classic Albedo. “It’ll be a summer fling for a while. And you’d know what I’d meant, either way.” 

(“Should we tell Auntie Alice?”

“No, let’s just try to acclimate ourselves to it first,” he suggests.

“Right, good thinking.”)

taglist: @sn1perz, @n3r0-1417, @kika-a, @chalksdreams

(please send an ask in if you’d like to be in the taglist <3!)

[ignyxdaughter]

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

(𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 /𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧)

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

A/N: English is not my first language. I’m gonna mix the books and the tv show to make the story line clearer (I read soc, the grisha trilogy and its tales). I don’t own Shadow and Bone and TO/Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Leigh Bardugo, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is how I think the Darkling is,and some of the events will be changed due to the story's course!

word count: 5066

warnings: none

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Katherine lets out a heavy sigh as she finally arrives at her room at Praecantrix. Her head is aching because of the huge quantity of simultaneous thoughts racing in her mind, her body craves for a well-deserved sleep after spending the night in Ravka's freezing weather, and her empty stomach screams for a meal.

"You look like shit."

She jumps in fright when a voice echoes through the room, and automatically places a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her heart. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know who it is. "Levi."

The man is lazily seated on a chair, yet his brown eyes attentively examine every inch of his cousin's appearance. He was starting to consider everything reasonably normal, until spotting the dried tears on her cheeks, now rosy from the cold.  Levi opens his mouth to question, but is interrupted by the woman, who, thinking that his gaze was on her bloody hands, thought he had mistaken the dried scarlet liquid as hers.

"Not mine."

"That's weird. I thought your tears were yours."

She immediately opens her eyes to look at him. "I thought you were—"

"It's easy to know this isn't your blood, Kat." He stands up from the chair and heads towards the room's door. "Take a bath and then we'll talk."

Katherine obeys him, gathering a new pair of clothes to wear before going to the washroom. If she wasn't so tired and cold, she would wait for the water to naturally fill the bathtub, but as this wasn't the case, she quickly made a spell to conjure hot water inside the tub. The witch sighs in relief when her skin makes contact with the liquid, finally feeling comfortable and sensing her tense body slowly ease.

She takes her time in the washroom, wanting nothing but to calm her mind and clean herself. The water is almost cold when she decides to go back to her room, only to find Levi laying on the bed with closed eyes.

"I left you a plate." He points at the desk, which now has food and drinks. "You must be starving, so eat."

The shadow singer isn't able to stop the small smile forming on her lips. "You are being too gentle with me. That is unusual."

"I don't want you looking even more like a malnourished person." With a smirk, he opens an eye to see her face hardens. "Better?"

"Come back to your tender version, arsehole."

The man only shrugs and continues to rest as she seats on the chair and begins to eat. The peaceful silence that they stay makes Katherine smile a bit. It has always been like this with Levi: excited when the two seek a distraction, tranquil when one of them goes through something terrible... From the moment they met, as soon as Katheribe entered the Mikaelson residence at eight years old, the two understood each other. Because they were adopted and sometimes felt a little out of place in the world, they were always each other's anchor. Of course, Michelle joined them too, but for her the person who is by her side every time is Agatha.

A sudden wind escapes through the wooden window, making the shadow singer shiver. Without thinking, she grabs the warmest thing in the room and puts it around her shoulders as if it was a blanket.

"This cloak isn't yours."

Her body instantly stiffens with the realization of what clothing she has chosen. "I..."

"It's from Kirigan, isn't it?" She looks down in nervousness, fearing for a moment his words. "I don't share the same thoughts as Hope, Kat. I think he does you good."

"I don't know about that."

There's a creaking noise near her, probably the bed as Levi moved to sit straight. "What do you mean?"

"We fought."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to expand the Fold." Her voice is barely a whisper as she faces her cousin with a clenching heart. "H-He wants power and the safety of Grishas, but is following the wrong path to achieve it."

The man is with a stern expression now, quickly understanding the seriousness of the situation that his cousin put herself in. "If he expands the Fold, there will be an imbalance."

Katherine nods. "I told him that. He will be hated, his people will be hated, our people will be hated."

"You have to stop him, Kat. Those Supernaturals don't have elsewhere to go. They don't deserve to live another hunt."

"I know, and that's why I told him to architect a coup against the Lantsov."

"A coup against the Lants— Are you insane?! This is not our country to mess with!"

"But it's still our people! You said it yourself that those Supernaturals don't deserve another hunt, and there will be one if we don't interfere."

"Katherine—"

She rushes to his side as if he would storm out of the room at any moment. "Please, Levi. We cannot just gather Agatha's memories back and leave as if nothing happened. We made a deal with these people, they are trusting us to help them get a better life. Disappointing them is not an option!"

"I don't want to let them down either, but being part of a coup? Really?"

"You have already been in thousands! Why is this one different? Besides, this plan will prevent a magical imbalance. The Fold will be right where it is without any reduction nor expansion. The hatred towards our people will decrease."

He massages his temples as an attempt to ease the thoughts that are starting to race inside his head. This is one of the times when Levi is sure that Katherine just seems to be the Mikaelson that doesn't get others into trouble. She indeed is the one who had put the family in less problems, however, all of her bad situations are unpredictably worse than all of the others. "I'm still not sure about this."

"You and Michelle have traveled the entire Ravka. You have seen some cities' misery and helplessness against the war, you have witnessed awful life conditions for mortals, Grishas and Supernaturals. There is no way that you haven't concluded that even the mortals aren't satisfied with the Lantsovs reign. If they continue to rule like that, it will only be a matter of time before someone explodes against them."

"It will take centuries for that to happen, Kat."

"That's a blink of an eye for us, so what's the matter in just fastening it a little?"

The man opens his mouth to answer her, but before his voice echoes in the room, he feels Katherine's warm and slender fingers touch his temple. Levi enters in a sudden trance due to having access to his cousin's argument with Kirigan. He sees her crying while revealing intimate secrets and the General's mournful face as he listens to her. Then he calms her down and gives his cloak to her. Finally, the sweet moment transforms into a frustrating one, the woods' darkness increasing as they shout at each other.

After what felt like eternity, though it only lasted a second, the memory transmitter spell vanishes from Levi's mind. The man opens his eyes only to see his cousin looking at him expectantly and, although not knowing if her idea is a good one, he doesn't find in himself the ability to reject her. Because he remembers the countless times when she came back to Praecantrix with a loving smile on her lips or a calmness that implies that she is at peace with herself. Kirigan makes Katherine want to live, and the Ancestors know how she struggles to have the desire to be alive.

The younger Mikaelson glances at the woman for a few more moments before agreeing. "Fine! I'll help you with that fucking plan."

The hug that Katherine gives him warms his heart and, deep down his soul, Levi knows he made the right choice.

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

3 days later — Os Alta, Ravka

It's been three days since her fight with Kirigan and he hasn't contacted her yet. Katherine tries to maintain herself occupied to not think about the General, but it's useless. No matter how many meetings she has with Anastasia to tell her what's the current situation in the country, how much discussions she has with Levi about the coup against the Lantsovs or how many hours she passes searching for a memory spell for Agatha, her mind will always find a way to come back to The Darkling. Without noticing, the shadow singer found herself sleeping with his cloak at night, smelling the sandalwood scent in order to obtain comfort.

How is he? Is he as woeful as I am? Has he at least considered giving up his plan? Did he get scared with my sorrowful mind and furious yells? Does he think I rejected him for being the Black Heretic?

Katherine groans and opens her eyes to gaze at the ceiling. For the Ancestors sake, what is happening to her?! Not even in her most especial romances she has been like that, so why is it different with Kirigan?

Anastasia saw her concentration slipping countless times in these days and, whenever they were alone, she would say that this is all due to the strong bond The Handler shares with The Darkling. Of course, she happily ignored the hybrid, not finding sense that just because she is in love she can act like a fool.

"No!" Katherine abruptly sits up, her light green eyes widening at the sudden realization. "I am not falling in love."

You are, miss. Umbra's sweet voice echoes in her ears.

"No, I am not!" She shakes her head in denial. "I can't."

That isn't something you can control. For once, trust your instincts, miss; it's been ages since you have allowed yourself to love again.

"But, like Hope said, he may break my heart—"

He won't.

"—And if he does, I don't know how long it will take me to recover."

You won't have to pass through that again because he won't hurt you.

"How are you so sure about that?"

Because we know him too.

Katherine frowns, confused at the statement. "What do you mean by that?" The shadow doesn't reply to her. "Umbra?" Again, there is no answer, though she can feel a dark figure excitingly approaching her. Taking that as a cue, the witch makes another calling attempt, finally feeling that this time she will be answered. "Umbra!"

No. Cheshire. The creature corrects her.

"Cheshire!" She immediately stands up to properly face the grinning shadow. Oh, she has been so worried about it, thinking something had hurt it and made it unable to come back to her. She has asked her shadows innumerable times about Cheshire, but none of them gave her any concrete response. "What are you doing here? You left for days without any warning and came back as if nothing had happened?"

I was watching over someone.

"A person?! Have them harm you or discover your hideout? If so, I swear that I will hunt and torture them until—"

There is no need to frat, Katherine. I am alright.

The witch lets out a heavy sigh, not taking her eyes away from the dark figure. "Are you sure?"

Yes! Its sharp smile increases as it extends her a small piece of paper. I even have a message for you!

"A message?" The creature nods and she takes the paper from its tail. The air in her lungs instantly stops as she recognizes the neat handwriting. It is identical to the one on the notebooks on the General's office that she read while being disguised as a handmaiden. "You were spying on Kirigan?" Cheshire nods again. "Why?"

Because I needed to warn you in case he wanted to see you again. Now, read the letter.

Katherine glances down at her shaking hands and gulps as she reads the five words written.

I changed my mind. - Kirigan

Her heart skips a beat at the thought of meeting him again, her stomach starts to twist in nervousness of what he will say to her. He changed his mind. Kirigan has given up that insane plan of his and put some sense inside his head. Does that mean that he now agrees with her 'discreet way' of gaining power and, therefore, wants to execute it?

There is only one way to find out. Cheshire's voice interrupts her thoughts.

She bites her lip, uncertain on what to do, but concludes that her talk with The Darkling will be fruitless if she searches for him now. She is with a lot on her head at the moment, and he must be already asleep. Katherine then spends the rest of the night with Nick, Levi and Michelle, seeking after an effective memory spell for Agatha and discussing the possibilities that won't harm her cousin.

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

It is afternoon when Kirigan leaves the Grisha training camps to go to his war room. He has spent the morning watching all the practices of the Second Army for at least half an hour, analyzing the soldiers and listening to reports from the regents of each Grisha order. It was tiring, to say the least, but it has restrained him from thinking about a certain witch. He has nothing to do now but believe that Cheshire has delivered her the message and that she is willing to meet him again.

"Moi soverenyi." The General stops on his tracks as he hears Ivan's urgent voice.

He has to hold the urge to roll his eyes at the thought that there has been an emergency and he is now being needed. "Yes?"

"I can hear a heartbeat." The Heartrender approaches him. "There's someone in your chambers."

Katherine.

He takes a deep breath to contain the mix of excitement and nervousness. Only the thought of seeing the woman again makes a shiver run over him. "If it is an intruder, I will take care of them myself."

Without looking back, The Darkling enters the war room only to find it empty. This makes his whole body go into alert, beginning to consider the idea of a real intruder. He looks around in search of the slightest movement that a person can make, attentive to any detail in the room that may imply that someone was — and still is — there. Kirigan stretches his fingers, ready to attack whoever is daring to spy on or harm him, and begins to slowly walk around the chamber to analyze it more clearly.

A sudden wind by his right makes his gaze instantly go in that direction. His hands begin to move in order to summon a shadow, but he stops as he sees a small piece of darkness circling the said members. For a moment, his whole body stiffens. He wasn't the one who conjured it.

Then another tiny shadow circles his hands again and consequently produces a slight wind, the same delicate draft that made him look to his right. There are only two people who can create darkness as him: Baghra and Katherine. He prays that it is the latter, since he cannot even bear the thought of having a conversation with his mother right now.

However, as another innocent shadow circles his hands again, the General just knows that it is Katherine. The memory of him summoning a tiny piece of darkness to put a strand of hair behind her ear, followed by her imitating the action and making a shadow circle his face, makes the corner of his lips lift in a glimpse of a smile. She remembered the gesture and now is repeating it.

Kirigan turns around only to find her in a dark corner of the room, hidden by its obscurity. She takes a step forwards, letting the light illuminate her slander frame. The witch is blushing and her mouth quivers into a small grin as her eyes meet his. As she begins to speak, she tightens the grip around the black cloak on her body, his cloak. "I was starting to get impatient. I waited for you all morning."

To say that his ego didn't float in joy with that statement is a blatant lie. "Did you?" She nods. "Then why didn't you search for me? I am sure you could've managed to find me."

"I wanted to surprise you." Katherine unbuttons the cloak and takes it off of her shoulders. Of course she isn't happy to undo herself from such a warming — and nice-smelling — clothing, but it belongs to Kirigan and he would soon demand it back anyways. "Besides, it would be unwise to walk through the hallways wearing The Darkling's cloak. Rumors about your love life would be made."

He raises his eyebrow, amused. "Rumors about my love life are already made. It wouldn't be unusual for a new one to appear."

"But it would be unusual for a random woman to shamelessly be with your clothes."

The witch's gracious steps echo in the war room as she goes to his desk and, whilst leaving the cloak on his chair, picks up a certain paper. Their contract. Argh, Kirigan has forgotten that he left this there in the early morning. "You know, I wasn't born with the gift of negotiation. My father was the one who had it."

"So why did you learn it, then?"

"Because I wanted to be just like him." Her light green eyes look away from the contract to gaze at him. For an instant, the General is concerned that her sad smile will lead to another breakdown. "He was considered the noble one of my family, always knowing the right words for any situation and the exact moment they were needed. His deals were unpredictable, and his wisdom, along with his patient yet indifferent facade, used to shock everyone."

"He seems to have been a memorable man." The Darkling honestly says, thinking that no one who has crossed Katherine's dad path was able to forget him.

"He certainly was." She looks away, probably having memories about him, but then a sudden chuckle surprises Kirigan. "I remember hearing my uncle Klaus saying that my father was the brother to summon when negotiations were made, whilst he was the one to appear when those ended. These two complemented each other: Elijah was the mind while Klaus was the fists."

"Your family seems united."

"We are."

When Aleksander was young and finally met Ulla, his half-sister that he spent countless days searching for, he used to constantly think about what would have happened if Baghra hadn't given away the girl to the lover who had sired her. These thoughts have tormented his mind for ages, but as time flew and he started to learn to accept his life instead of lamenting it, they began to fade. However, that doesn't stop him from grieving for brief moments about the sister he will never see again or the life that he couldn't have.

"That must be wonderful."

"It is." The shadow singer gives him a sad smile, as if she knew what thoughts were in his mind. "Especially because we are always welcoming with those we love."

Kirigan swears that he felt his heart skipping a beat. He couldn't help but feel proud to see her pale cheeks getting red and her gaze immediately falling back to the contract. "As I said—", she quickly changed the subject "I wanted to be like my father. So I started to go to the meetings he allowed me to witness. I loved every single one. I would sit in a dark corner and observe the behaviors in the room, analyze the reactions as the talk went by and conclude every emotion that each person was feeling. At the end of the day, I would tell him my discoveries and he would listen before complimenting or correcting me. He would even give me books to read and ask me to examine the reasons why the characters acted in some ways during specific situations."

"He taught you how to read people."

She shakes her head in uncertainty. "I was born with that gift. He only... perfected it."

"He surely did an outstanding job. Has he also taught you how to negotiate?"

"Unfortunately, I had to learn that by myself. He only had time to teach me the basics before dying. And although not knowing a thing about making deals, I had two traits in my favor. The first one was my ability to read people."

"And the second one?"

"I was never an easy person to fool." His amused glance makes her release a small chuckle. "I have always helped the Supernaturals in New Orleans and, by doing that, I have seen many mortals seeking witches for a spell. They would appear with a desperate face and give whatever money amount that the witch demanded. When I grew up, I decided that it was this kind of negotiation that I would follow."

The Darkling raises a skeptical eyebrow. "But you aren't paid with money. You require favors in exchange for a spell."

Katherine's red lips quiver in a smirk. "Exactly. I was raised by a wealthy family; I already have my own money and don't need more. Favors, on the other hand, are always precious, especially ones that my client will only find out by the time I need them." Finally, she leaves the contract on the desk and turns to Kirigan. "This type of negotiation though is dangerous, uncertain. I would be persecuted by hunters and acquaintances of my clients if I showed my face. Therefore, I had to find a way to stay safe and guarantee that no one would ever betray me."

"So you began to sign the bargains with blood and cast a spell that prevented them from revealing who you are."

She nods. "Blood magic is unbreakable and trackable. It is the only magic that allows me to locate my clients even after centuries that I accomplished their wishes. The silencing spell, along with my shadows gathering letters addressed to me, ensures that my identity is still a secret and that no one will ever dare to confront me. After all, I just meet people in places that I know with the back of my hand."

Genius. Kirigan thinks, stunned at the woman's declarations.

He looks at her from the top to bottom before asking: "Why the name Handler?"

"I don't know. Why the name Darkling?" Katherine chuckles as he rolls his eyes in annoyance. However, she silently approaches him without breaking eye contact nor making a noise. He discretely takes a deep breath as she takes off the ruby ring on her right ring finger and reveals a tattooed thin black line circling her finger. "Because I am a handler but, mainly, because I have everyone wrapped around my finger. I handle all the wishes and dreams of people, therefore, I have the power to accomplish or crush them." Her light green eyes meet his dark browns in false innocence. "Manipulation is an art, and I am the best artist the world has ever seen."

The smile he gives her is able to hypnotize and lure anyone to do the wishes of the General of the Second Army. But not Katherine. She isn't a fool to believe in sweet lies, and the increasing smirk on her face only comproves that she has understood his little act. The witch ignores all the nervousness growing in her stomach as she touches the man's cheek. "Manipulation suits you."

Kirigan's heart is beating as fast as a drum when he coups her warm — and currently red — face. "I am afraid I'll have to say the same to you, milaya."

Her eyes widen in surprise, the air in her lungs gone from the moment he has called her that. Milaya means 'darling' in russian. Did he actually mean that or was it unintentional? It certainly seems an unusual behavior from the cold Shadow Summoner everyone knows, but to Katherine this feels right, an action she didn't know she was needing.

"Come—", his soothing voice takes the witch away from her reveries "I have to show you something."

She tries not to stutter, but her efforts are useless as her mind is still on the affectionate name. "W-What?"

"You'll see."

He extends a hand to her, which she accepts, and leads her through his private hallways until they get to the Little Palaces stables. She stays hidden in the shadows as Kirigan orders a servant to prepare his black stallion. The waiting is almost nonexistent and soon he is mounting the horse and entering the woods.

Katherine travels through the shadows until the man stops at a place where no one can see them and invites her to be with him. He helps her into the saddle and sits behind her, tightly gripping the animal's rope to ensure that she is between his arms and won't fall. Kirigan lets out a genuine laugh when she startles as the stallion starts to suddenly gallop.

Both of them are so immersed in delight that they don't even notice that they arrived at their destination. After the two get to the snowy floor, the witch observes the place where they are at. She frowns in confusion as soon as her eyes meet the Black Heretic fountain.

"Why here?"

"To seal our deal in the place where it all began." He says while tying his black horse on a tree.

She opens her mouth to question him, but her words vanish as soon as The Darkling begins to summon darkness. Shivers run down her entire body as he expertly expands the shadow and shapes it into the form of a huge sharp blade. Katherine's jaw drops as he releases it towards some trees, slicing them in halves. It made a perfect cut; the dark wisps of smoke fading in the air are the only proof that an ability from small science was what provoked this.

She doesn't know how long she stays still while admiring the sliced wood, but it must have been good minutes because Kirigan is now impatiently staring at her. "Any thoughts to share?"

"It..." She sighs, still taken aback by the technique. "It's beautiful."

That wasn't what he was expecting. Of course, Katherine has already shown signs of excitement towards the Cut, but this still took the man aback. No one has ever told him that. The Cut has always been a way to make people fear him, being used only for attack and self-defense. The blood it sheds easily frightens enemies like the drüskelle or others who dare to cross his path. But the witch in front of him isn't scared. No, she is elated, looking at it as if it was the most mesmerizing thing her eyes have ever witnessed.

"Wonderful!" She excitedly faces him. "Are you sure it isn't magic?"

He couldn't hold back the smile, a reflection of the joy evading his body. Finally he is truly being accepted by someone, not having to pretend to be what he isn't. Even after their fight, Katherine willingly came back to him and waited hours to have the opportunity to talk to him alone. She likes his manipulative nature, his power and its lethality, his greatest creation and his dreams. She sat beside him and listened to him, not judging a single part of his past and the choices he has made because of it. She shares everything with him and, instead of cursing him for having some insane plans, she only scolded him and then suggested a better one, a 'more discreet way' to achieve his wishes without ending previous conquests!

Katherine indeed is his true equal, in mind and power. There's no one else in the world that is better than her.

"I am."

She approaches the trees and carefully admires the cleaness of the sliced halves. "It seems so. It's such a powerful ability!"

"Thank you." I guess.

It took almost an hour for the shadow singer to stop asking questions and making observations about the Cut. When she finally straightened her posture and made her way towards Kirigan, he felt a slight twinge of pain at the thought that their conversation was over and so was their deal. The contract has been accomplished by both parts; Katherine is free to go whenever she wants now. However, for what seemed like the nth time of the day, she managed to shock him again.

Her hand is on his face, light green eyes affectionate looking at his dark brown ones. As if to not startle him, she slowly closes the distance between their bodies, a silent warning of her intentions. Both of their gazes fall to each other's mouths and, at the same time, they seal their warm lips together.

The witch lets out a huffed moan as she feels his tongue entering her mouth, and fiercely returns the kiss. The Darkling is fast to clasp her waist and make their bodies collide even more, whilst her hands grip and pull his black hair. The tiny distance that was separating them is now nonexistent. All the old tension between one another is being expressed without words, the crave for each other finally being satisfied.

When breathing becomes a necessity, they break the kiss, panting. Katherine swears that she is about to faint from happiness; her heart is beating so fast that there is no way this isn't a dream. Almost glowing in joy, she looks at the man only to see him with a genuine shining smile.

"You know—", her voice is husky due to the dryness of her throat "I am still waiting for you to explain how your mind changed, dorogoy."

She can feel Kirigan's hands around her waist going completely still as he hears the affectionate name. Satisfied, she patiently waits for an answer, which is nearly instantly: "That can be arranged, milaya."

However, he doesn't move away to go back to the Little Palace and nor does she. They stay exactly how they are, enjoying each other's company in the peaceful silence. Their foreheads are touching as an assurance for both of them that this is not a dream. This is real, and depending on them, will forever continue to be.

[nanamikentoseyebags]

in your sacred air i am full of light

it seemed that the long awaited dawn, with its bright colors and warm rays that peeked through your window, marked your defeat every morning.

pairing: suguru geto x gn!reader

content: the reader has trouble sleeping, geto returns just in time to help; a bit of angst, hurt-ish/comfort, fluff

a/n: wrote it for my precious friend @shamelessperfectionhideout! the title is from tamino's song - persephone, hope you enjoy 💛

It was long past midnight when the eerie shadows flooded the entire space, merging into a frightening inky-black mass, lurking in every corner of the bedroom. You thought you could hear those weightless, almost ghostly silhouettes transforming, distorting and turning into the very monsters you fought every night – your own thoughts. You were almost certain that beneath the bed where your frail figure now lay was their lair, the place where they waited for the darkness to come, the place from which their long, bony hands reached for you, the place they wanted to drag you down with them without the possibility of returning. You could swear you felt their icy touch and their stinking breath tickling your face. With each of your anxious breaths, you heard them winced, crawling right under your skin, clawing at your flesh, forcing you into the endlessly dark abyss of your fears.

 It was like that almost every night. You barely slept a wink, tossing and turning, wrapping yourself deeper and deeper into the blanket, hoping that this thin material could be your lifeline for a little while. Attempting not to concentrate on the surrounding silence, you tried to immerse yourself in the music, making it unbearably loud to drown out the sound of their soon approaching footsteps. None of this worked. So you spent whole nights fighting a battle you had no chance of winning. And it seemed that the coming dawn, with its bright colors and warm rays that first peeked through your window every morning, marked your defeat, bringing no relief whatsoever.

 And so you lay there, under the warm, soft blanket that was supposed to bring comfort, not feeling the least bit of it. With your hands shaking and your heart thudding against your ribcage, unarmed, you were losing another fight, once again finding yourself one-on-one with an enemy too strong for you, who had an arsenal of weapons shooting to kill. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the blood run cold in your veins from the images your nemesis – your subconscious – was painting for you. You pressed yourself harder into the pillow, fingers clutching the sheet so tightly that your knuckles turned white, the traitorous trickles of tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving an unpleasant tingle in their wake, while trying to wash away this dreading apparition rather than being the sign of your weakness.

Overwhelmed by the deafening white noise that rang in your ears with an unfathomable force, you didn't notice the bedroom door crack open, letting a small ray of light inside. Finally back from yet another mission, Suguru knew he would find you in such a state. Poking his head through the small opening, he listened, somewhere in the back of his mind harboring vague hopes that you had managed to fall asleep without waiting for him. His heart felt as if it had shattered, jumping off a cliff when your quiet sobs reached his ears. Carefully, swinging the door open a little wider so as not to startle you, he made his way towards the bed. With each step he took, more and more of the lanterns' rays filled the room, racing in from the hallway, they did battle with the darkness, dissolving it in their hot embrace. The bravest of them threw themselves under the bed, defeating in hand-to-hand combat all the monsters you feared, driving them out of their lair and protecting your peace.

The bed sagged slightly beneath you as Suguru lay down gently beside, his arm immediately enveloping your smaller figure, pulling gently against him. Yet the lump shaping in your throat felt like someone's gaunt hand on your neck, slowly but surely tightening its grip, making you choke on your sobs. Icy waves of fear swept over you from your feet, slamming over your head, leaving you breathless. And when you realized someone's strong arm found its place around your waist, you shuddered in terror, but not a sound escaped your lips except for the heavy, labored breathing that cut through the silence of the bedroom.

"Shhhh," he whispered into your hair, "it's me, I'm back, I'm right beside you," small reassuring kiss on your shoulder, his fingers snaking under the fabric of your t-shirt, beginning to trace whimsical patterns on your skin. No subtext, nothing intimate, just soothing movements to help you even out your breathing. You felt his raven-wing colored hair tickle the back your neck, a relieved exhale came out of your lips, your small hand instinctively covering his large palm. With your back pressed close to his broad chest and the pleasant warmth emanating from his body, you finally began to feel yourself returning from the frightening realm of dark thoughts to the pleasant reality of his luminous presence.

You allowed yourself to open your eyes, turning gently to face him and exposing your tired, weeping eyes, "you're back," you whispered softly, your sweet voice like music to his ears, your hot breath touching his neck, as he nodded, smiling lovingly, his thumb gently wiping away the remnants of your tears, tucking the loose strands behind your ear, soft lips leaving countless kisses on your blushing cheeks. You wrapped your arms around his torso, legs tangling together at the same second, just to keep as little distance between you as possible. His nose found its place in your hair. The floral scent of your shampoo filling his nostrils, smelling like home to his shelter-seeking soul. You nuzzle into his neck, a bit of sandalwood and the subtle scent of cigarettes, the smell of home for your shelter-seeking soul.

Your eyes flickered around the room, noticing that the thick darkness was gone, replaced by sparkling rays of light bouncing joyfully off the mirrored surfaces. You saw the table lamp, left on by the far-sighted Suguru, blinking softly in the kitchen. And you felt the warmth spreading throughout your body, pleasant thoughts taking over horrendous nightmares, knocking away any monsters hunting you. You gently stroke Suguru's back, listening to his steady breathing and the quiet confessions he whispered into the crown of your head. You saw his hair beginning to shimmer with different colors, his skin slowly taking on a honey hue. It was the morning sun peeking through your window to herald the arrival of a new day and your victory. The victory of light over the darkness, of his love over your fears. You felt your eyelids getting heavy with sleep as Suguru’s fingers kept doing their magic on the bare skin of your back. Noticing you visibly relaxing in his arms, he hummed approvingly, whispering the most genuine I love you that our old wondrous world had ever heard.

And so you fell asleep, deep and sweet, safe and sound, knowing that you didn't need to confront those monsters yourself, his mere presence was enough to make them disappear, dissolve into a luminous flow and forget the way to you. He was there, promising for every night to be like this –  not fearsome but serene, for now you had your own source of light.

thank you so much for reading 💛 comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

tags for my friends: @shamelessperfectionhideout @pastelle-rabbit @rossithepixie @sukunassuka @strawberrystepmom @jazminetoad @sugurusgetou

[an-abyss-of-stars]

He Saw Her At Daybreak - Part 5

Summary: Rhaena's POV, a day in her life…a few months in her life really!

She loses someone she loves… She gains someone new… And her dragon is just a tad bit jealous…

Warnings: SMUTTTT SMUTTY SMUT! Also comedy and nonsense!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.1 | Part 3.2 | Part 4 | Ao3

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemian-nights , @neocil , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 , @jordanjanellejoyy , @azaleapotterblack , @yourlittlehoe , @partypoison00 , (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S. I feel like this chapter reads more like a series of vignettes, like these were all plot points I thought of months ago and they kind of needed to take place here before we moved one to the preggo plotlines!

I hope this chapters flows together though!

-

Rhaena Targaryen had never known the wonders of sleeping next to someone until she had Aemond by her side. 

Before him, she'd slept in a variety of ways. Curled up on her side, demure and gentle on her stomach, spread out like a star…but no matter what way she slept, she was always in search of a warmth that wasn't immediately present. It always felt as if her fur blankets took hours to warm, no matter the place, King's Landing or Dragonstone, she always felt cold.

Oh she'd shared a bed with her sister plenty of times over the years, and yes there certainly was something to be said about curling into one's other half like with their twin. Cuddling with Baela had its comforts and it was incomparable to all else, it always felt like time had stood still for them, as if they were little girls once again, as if their birth mother, Laena Velaryon-Targaryen could simply step through their door once again. 

Even though that could never be.

But then…there was Aemond.

Ever since the first time he made love to her a moon ago... she's never slept without him. He was a hard solid presence, weighted and all encompassing...and hot. 

Whether he lay right beside her, in front or behind her or she lay on top of him, it never mattered, he'd always hold her close. And he always burned hot, she always instantly warmed in his embrace. 

And yes, she knew it was a compulsive thing, his need to have her in his arms. Of course he'd never said it aloud but it was obvious to her, the slight doubt he had every time she wasn't in his arms or everytime she told him that she loved him . As if he figured she'd eventually change her mind or realize that she in fact did not love him, both things were entirely untrue and incapable of happening as far as Rhaena was concerned. 

But she was observant and she could tell those were deep seated fears of his.

Though she hoped by now that his doubts over such things had lessened, if not entirely faded. A moon ago he knelt down before her and told her that he wanted her, that he'd chosen her over every other woman in the realm, Lady or otherwise. He wanted a Valyrian bride, he wanted a Valyrian Princess...but he also wanted her ...only her. 

She'd doubted him wholly, rolled her eyes and made snarky quips and remarks, but the further they went that night...the more she burned for him. And in that moment she'd known she was fighting a losing battle, somewhere along the way her burning hatred for him had melted into molten desire for him. Rhaena knew of their duties to their families, but she also knew no one had ever made her burn the way Aemond did... continued to do.

He'd made her ravenous, almost feral with want. It annoyed her to such peaks some days, how this man who'd made it his mission to poke and prod at her every emotion, purposely pushed her to the brink of her sanity, her rage and fury...how he could invoke all of that and still make her swoon. 

The first time he kissed her, it burned like dragon’s fire and it scared her. It wasn't a long kiss but it caught her far too off guard for her to lean into it. 

It remained something she thought of quite often afterwards. She had spent the coming days comparing his kiss and his lips to the brief encounters she'd had before. 

One rather forgettable kiss with a cute Lord's son she'd danced with when she was four and ten. And another far more recent encounter she'd had the year prior with Dalton Greyjoy, she was seven and ten then, and Dalton was ever the handsome charmer. His kisses were lively and exciting, flirtatious grinding that Rhaena may have enjoyed at the time but ultimately put a stop to as neither wished to truly wed one another and she could not risk their encounters delving any further. Well Dalton perhaps did wish for her hand, but Rhaena had thought better than to marry such a man as openly flirtatious as him.

Although none of that had compared to the burgeoning feelings that would occur a year later with Aemond. She was sure he'd picked fights and arguments just to spend more time in her company. Purposely cracking through her court persona with his persistent remarks and sinister smirks. But she had noticed the shift, she wasn't blind to it. The way Aemond edged closer and closer to her, it seemed the only way he thought he could eliminate the space between them was by infuriating her enough to step into his space by her own choice.

Putting her right where he wanted her. 

That's how it always was, especially in the days after her first kiss with Aemond…then the second kiss. 

By the third kiss…well that day Rhaena had found herself cornered by him once again. In what had become their usual spot in the royal library of the Red Keep, hidden away in the twists and turns of the bookshelves, back by the roaring fire and the cozy chairs and sofas. He'd crowded around her, backed her up against a bookshelf and raged about how she'd been deliberately avoiding him .

Which she had been, she just hadn't expected him to care so much about it.

He was seething, barring down over her with such arrogance, the fact that he thought she'd simply give in to him after two chaste kisses. Rhaena could not and would cow to him so easily. But it was always within that choice, the choice to match his dragon-like energy with her own dragon fire, for within his arrogance always laid something she wanted. At the time she would not dare name it, if it had been up to her, she might have just suppressed the feeling, buried it deep within herself and let it die. She would've done her duty, she would've married whomever made the best alliance for her family...and she would've hoped to grow to love that man and the children she'd eventually birth for him. 

That was a future Aemond had shattered when he took her lips for that third time...for that was the first time Rhaena let herself sway into his kiss. Because the fire he always engulfed her in was becoming addicting, the feel of his lips had begun to make her starved and hungry for him. When his tongue invaded her mouth she'd felt a sparking pleasure she'd never felt before and as his hands slid along her hips she knew this feeling inside her had become something dangerous. When the blinding urge came within her to reach up and grab onto him…she didn't stop herself, she let some of her inhibitions go and did as she pleased. Her inner walls had cracked that day, his kiss simultaneously sucked the life from her while also pumping a brand new source into her. 

And then she ran again. 

She had been running scared and she was sure he knew it. 

She was Princess Rhaena Targaryen, she was the youngest daughter of Lady Laena Targaryen-Velaryon and Prince Daemon Targaryen. She was the 'Sweet Princess' , 'The Realms Flower' , she was deemed to be everything bright and beautiful, light and effervescent. Whether her parents ever had a plan for her...falling in love with the dark brooding Prince Aemond 'One Eye' Targaryen was certainly not part of it. 

It would not have been a part of anyone's foreseeable plans...in all honesty their lives and their futures were never supposed to intercept or intermingle...and most certainly not align with one another's. 

But they had. 

Aemond would not give her up, he made it a point to claim her. And she was glad he had…where would she be without her dragon . 

And now they were officially wed...she was his and he was truly hers. They'd made their vows before both the Old Gods and the New. They'd made their vows in front of every nobleman and noblewoman who mattered, in front of their family and then even in front of their dragons. They'd made matching wounds on another and they'd shared their blood with one another. 

They were bonded, linked, truly fated and sealed to one another. 

This was a bond that could not be severed until one of them died…and maybe even then the bond would still remain intact. 

But someone had tried to take that away from them.

Last night had unlocked a very specific sense of terror within Rhaena.

If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that most people feared her husband. His face alone made people uncomfortable, his demeanor usually only added to that and that was usually before he'd even reached for his weapon. The idea that any sane person would dare challenge him, for anything, let alone his right to marry Rhaena...be with her...choose her. 

Rhaena had no doubt he would protect her. He'd made it quite clear that he saw her as ' his only' , he'd sooner slaughter everything and everyone than give her up. And he'd unleash the darkest parts of himself if her life was ever threatened. 

Why Ser Criston did not know this already, she could not say. The knight had all but raised Aemond since he was a boy, surely Ser Criston must have known and understood Aemond's possessive traits. Surely he could have seen how asking and then commanding Aemond to leave her and wed another would not go as planned. 

Perhaps that was what bothered Rhaena most, the willful ignorance and blind hubris of Ser Criston. He seemed to think he had 'goodwill' of some sort cached and stored away to use upon his charge at any moment he chose. As if he'd forgotten that Aemond above all cared very much for rank and worth, and that he'd long since stopped caring for Ser Criston as any such 'father figure' the moment he implied that both Baela and Rhaena must have been 'loose women like their stepmother' .

The added fact that Lady Floris was merely a common girl, there was never any offense intended...well at least before last night. But seeing how clearly so many under Otto Hightower's foot wished to see a match between the Baratheon girl and Aemond...the idea had become a  bit irritating. Maybe they were all fools, for the Aemond Targaryen Rhaena knew, cared far too much about his Valyrian heritage and dragon blood purity to ever be made to wed a simply common blooded girl. 

And so it was, Ser Criston and his cheaply bought goons were dispatched of last night. 

With ease.

And that had scratched at Rhaena in an odd way. 

The loss of life was never something she appreciated, not like most Targaryens. 

Of course it certainly juxtaposed with her beliefs, The Fourteen Flames were adamant about the beauty of death. Life and death being both sacred and necessary parts of their world. That, she understood, she understood the idea of blood sacrifices, though she only ever offered up a few drops of her own. 

But Targaryens were known to feel just as passionately about the taking of lives as their Gods were. Fire and blood was not just a motto that spoke of their culture and blood purity practices, it also spoke of their want and need for violence and chaos at times. 

It fed them, their dragon's blood called for it and depending on the Targaryen themselves, that calling could be far more beckoning then others. It was a need, like a hunger, something that needed to be fed and sated. Just like their Valyrian steel swords that called for blood to drink from, their dragon's blood called for the violence that gave it. 

Only, It had always seemed to be a personality trait that skipped Rhaena.

Or perhaps all of that bold dragon's blood had been given to her sister Baela when they were still in the womb together. 

Either or Rhaena could never be certain, but as she was now, she never seemed to have the stomach for violence. 

A somewhat obvious contradicting factor paired with the man she had chosen to wed, it was not lost on her. 

But Rhaena could not blame herself for it, dragon's blood aside, she was a Princess, she'd always lived a charmed life. In the lap of luxury she was mostly sheltered away from such blatant violence. Yes she'd seen people with gruesome injuries and scars and wounds before, but she'd rarely ever seen or watched the action that caused it. 

Barring the fight that cost Aemond his eye, such anger and rage was a rarity to bring out in her, she rarely resorted to such things. Especially after that fateful incident.

Of course, her father was Daemon Targaryen, a Targaryen who certainly held the pension for violence and chaos well within himself.  But rumours of who people believed him to be and the actuality of who he truly was, were always skewed. He'd always been a kind and loving father to his daughters, and the two wives he loved. She'd only ever seen him execute three people in her entire life, that of course did not mean that he'd only ever executed three people in the eighteen years she'd been alive. But it meant those were the only ones he'd allowed her to be privy of and two of them were not truly done in front of her anyhow. 

Only Ser Criston and her great-uncle Vaemond had that privilege. And truthfully, she'd never much cared for either man, and she if were to focus on her great-uncle…cruel as it was to say. He was a horrid family member. And she had never forgotten how he'd spoken at her muña's funeral, how he'd twisted what was meant to be his eulogy for her loving sweet muña and made it into a targeted attack on her cousins...now brothers. He'd wanted to single out children in such an underhanded and cruel way, and as Baela and Luke fostered in Driftmark for several years, they made mention of how his antagonistic ways remained the same. 

So no, Rhaena did not care for her great-uncle, but his death had stuck with her. 

The blood...the blood was what had stuck with her. 

The entire look of his decapitated form lying lifeless on the ground was engraved in her memory. And the same had occurred last night, she could not care less for Ser Criston, so it wasn't really the murder that bothered her. Rhaena of course hadn't truly cared for that portion of the incident either, but it was justified. She could wrap herself around that fact. Those men had attacked first, Aemond had every right to kill them, she could not and would not find fault in that action.

She would never hold that against her husband. 

For he was only protecting his dragoness.

And as for her father, the same logic applied. Ser Criston had aimed to hurt her…if not kill her, Daemon was nothing if not a protective dragon. Especially when it came to his children. Yes, she’d only really been nicked by Criston’s blade…but the fact that she’d been touched at all had been enough for her father.

And in the end…she could not blame him for it. 

But the gore on the other hand, that would be what haunted her. 

The blood...so much blood spilled on the stone floors of her childhood home. Bodies sliced and thrown about, it was brutal...it was scarring. 

And it just wouldn't leave her alone. 

She'd awoken twice during the night. The first time, she'd shook herself awake, startled but otherwise calm. Her dream was only fragmented memories, images of the sliced limbs and death stricken faces. Rhaena knew Aemond to be a rather light sleeper, like a true soldier, the slightest thing could wake him. He always wanted to be prepared, his sword at the ready leaning on his bedside table should he need it. 

But this time, if he noticed she'd awoken suddenly, then he did not show it. He simply kept his hold on her and pulled her closely against his chest. 

And in that calming heat, she'd managed to drift back to sleep.

The second time was worse, in her nightmare she was drowning, sitting in a throne room that just kept filling with bones and bright thick crimson blood. Gurgling and bubbling, it just kept rising and rising. 

It was burning her.

She'd been alone...all alone, no matter how much she screamed or cried, banged on the doors or the walls before the blood swept her and raised her body upwards. It seemed no one could hear her. And so blood just kept rising, hot and steaming, floating her up to the ceiling, swallowing her whole.

She could not breathe. 

And she awoke in a cold sweat, Aemond had woken her this time, clear concern etched on his leveled hard face as he sat up beside her. All the while Rhaena was gasping for air she could not find, she felt like she was drowning all over again, just here in her bed with her lover watching over her this time. 

Tears had flooded her eyes simultaneously, her chest burned and her body ached. But when he gently caressed her cheek, asking her if she wished to speak of it, she simply shook her head and buried her face in his chest. He did not push or prod, he simply nodded softly and held her close. 

It was only blood...blood had never bothered her so greatly before, of course she's never seen so much before. But even so, this feeling, this weak wretched feeling, she hated it. 

She was a Targaryen Princess!

How could she be so weak? 

How could she manage to face so much but this...this was where her mind and body halted and faltered.

It was a wonder, Aemond's ability to care and be so gentle with her. When he laid her back down, he pulled her up on top of him, and caressed her bare back smoothly. Pressing kisses to her forehead, before he whispered softly into her hair, "paghagon, dōna riña, sagon gīda se paghagon.  Iksan kesīr, eman ao, ao sagon ȳgha," breathe, sweet girl, be calm and breathe. I'm here, I have you, you're safe. 

Rhaena tried to listen to him, his voice had sounded so silken, it soothed her. Paired with the feel of his hands on her back, his body holding her firmly, the sound of his calmly beating heart...it all factored in for her. She breathed him in, and felt him do the same. And that's how she found herself comforted enough to fall back to sleep. 

When Rhaena awoke for the third and final time, she was cold. 

The bed in fact was entirely empty, her husband's heated weight no longer with her, and the lacking feeling only chilled her further. 

She did not get the chance to dwell on it though, her body moving before her mind could process the movements. As if, even without her consciously commanding her body to do so, her blood would just naturally seek his...seek him out and go to him. By the time she was fully aware of her actions, she was standing at their bed chamber door. Pulled open just a crack, Rhaena heard the muffled words...

" Your father ..." It sounded like Queen Alicent's voice, she sounded so faint and small...mournful almost.

Something was wrong.

"... when? " The word was curt and pointed. That was surely Aemond's voice, that she knew for certain. They're voices sounded close-by, they must've been standing or sitting in the common room of the chambers. 

'your father'

Uncle Viserys?

Something was wrong with him. He had seemed worse than he'd ever been these last few days, incredibly frail and weak, he couldn't manage to walk or limp any longer, only being lifted from room to room in his most comfortable Kingly chair. He'd missed most of the festivities, only being present for the ceremonies themselves after the tourney. 

Rhaena tip-toed closer to the door, aiming to creek it open just a tad bit more, peeking through the gap, she realized her suspicions were indeed right. Her Good-mother looked positively disheveled sitting by the fire, it was the most unkempt Rhaena had ever seen her look. Dressed in her green silk night robe, her shoulder length copper red hair all undone, spilling over her shoulders loosely. Her face looked gravely saddened. 

Alicent Hightower...in mourning ? 

Oh no. 

No!

"Have Rhaenyra and Daemon been told?" Aemond only paced the room calmly, his arms crossed, his own long pale hair was also undone and unbound. He must've quickly dressed to greet his mother at the door, dressed only in a pair of breeches and a cotton shirt.

His tone indicated no pain, not like Alicent's. But the mood was clear, there was a loss...Viserys was no longer deathly ill. 

He was dead. 

King Viserys, first of his name, had died during the night. 

How it happened, Rhaena did not know, but their tones surely solidified her concern.  

And it caused an instant pang of pain to course through her, Rhaena's eyes pricking as they became glassy and her vision blurred slightly. She made quick work of gathering herself, though. If she broke down now, she'd only draw attention to herself and miss the rest of the information being shared freely now.  

"Yes, Maester Gerardys informed them immediately after I informed him. They seem to be in talks of preparing a funeral pyre for him, the Silent Sisters are preparing his body as we speak. Of course, I'd rather have him entombed..." She choked a faint sob, and Aemond was over by her in a second, with a comforting hand on her shoulder, it seemed to be enough. Alicent placed her own over his, giving him a small appreciative smile. 

"Mother, you know The Seven were not his Gods. He should be set alight by dragon fire, if you wish to honor him...this is how," his response lacked emotion but it was his way with things that required too much gentle feeling with others, and this would certainly be one of those occasions for him. He'd be direct as he was now, but his tone would not be in total lacking. 

With a sigh, Alicent gave a nod, pulling herself from her seat, "I trust you will inform your wife,"  

He returned his own swift nod, "of course," 

With that she patted his shoulder and made her way for the exit, "be on guard today, my son. If a few sought to take advantage of you on your wedding night, then on this day of mourning, I suspect the attempts may be tenfold. I've not informed my father, but it is prudent to believe he already knows. It would also be prudent to consider the danger of this power vacuum. Until Rhaenyra is crowned...this family will be vulnerable." 

Aemond did not reply verbally, fixed his mother with only a look and a nod as she reached the exiting doors, "has it been decided, the treasonous knights' fate?"

"Yes...and no," she paused and she did not face him with her full response, "plans will have to be shifted, I'm sure. I'm certain your honeymoon will be cut short on this account. On the morrow, we will most likely all return to King's Landing. Once Rhaenyra is crowned...a trial shall be held. As I'm certain Rhaenyra will not wish to look ruthless and bloodthirsty so early in her reign...but a firm hand must still be shown all the same. In either case, nought is to be done beforehand. Most likely Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne will both be formally stripped of their white coats. Whether they'll be executed will be left up to-"

At that, Aemond's head turned slightly to the side, his eye lifting to the corner as if he’d locked onto Rhaena, he wasn't facing her, so either he felt her presence or he'd noticed her far sooner than his more obvious behaviour now.

On reflex Rhaena swiftly closed their bed chamber door and hurried herself back to bed. Climbing underneath the furs as she tried to calm her heart rate and work up some warmth to flow through her. 

Aemond's half glance only exasperated the feelings brewing inside of her. 

He must've glanced for the words Ser Willis and Ser Rickard's sentencing would surely remind her of the state the knights had been left in after Aemond had fought them.

The state her father left Ser Criston in…

Considerate...but no...her mind remained elsewhere.

The bigger loss today was evident.

Viserys was dead.

Her sweet uncle, gone forever. It saddened her deeply, enough to bring a fresh stream of tears down her cheeks. But she supposed at least his suffering was over. He could finally rest, truly, finally he could return to his true love, his first wife. The lovely Queen Aemma. 

It was a bittersweet acceptance to swallow, but it at least made the loss a bit more digestible.

In comparison to the very real fact that they'd all be in more danger now than ever, Rhaena could agree that Alicent was right, it would make the most sense for her mother to be crowned as soon as possible. And in that effort, Rhaena could only hope that with the dowager Queen's recent actions this past moon, she'd at least be on their side as this matter of succession was dealt with. 

But Rhaena could never be too sure. 

And then there was the thought of Ser Willis and Ser Rickard, their fate was currently unknown but they could truly possibly face execution. It would be a fair punishment for Ser Willis, should that be his sentencing. 

There was a part of Rhaena that she supposed she considered her weakest part, her compassionate heart that loathed killing most ardently. She understood it was necessary, she understood it to be a part of their world, and even when it was just, sometimes she just could find herself rooting for such a thing. 

Like with Ser Rickard, guilty he may have been in initially being present on the treasonous plot…but he'd come to his senses, he chose correctly and he warned her parents instead. If his white cloak were to be removed and he was banished from the castle, Rhaena could only hope for such leniency for his sentencing. 

In all honesty if it was up to her, she'd simply leave Ser Willis to rot in the dungeons as he was for the rest of his life. 

Though if she dwelled on that...that fate was only a prolonged version of an execution, possibly even crueler if she was honest with herself. 

Fuck...it was bleak no matter what. 

She'd eavesdropped on three bleak pieces of information...and not one of them gave her true peace of mind. Soon enough, Rhaena heard the far-off sound of the main chamber doors closing. And then in a matter of minutes, Aemond stepped through their bed chamber doors and entered the room. 

Her husband paused at the door for only a moment, seemingly drinking in the sight of her sitting in their bed with the morning sun's rays beaming over her semi-naked form. But Rhaena herself thought to quickly wipe tears that streaked down her cheeks as she waited in bed for him. She hadn't dwelled on the fact that he'd caught her spying on his conversation with his mother just moments ago. It seemed incredibly insignificant considering the matters they were speaking of, in all honesty Rhaena cared more for the core issue she'd overheard. 

Her husband had just lost his father. 

She could mourn the loss of her last living uncle well enough but Aemond had lost his one and only father.

Now, Viserys may not have been a true benchmark for fatherhood. No, he'd only been a kind, loving, nurturing father to only one of his children, only to Rhaena's dear stepmother Rhaenyra. 

So in this matter Rhaena knew she needed to be tactful, for she desperately wanted to be there for him...if he'd allow her. 

But she also knew Aemond, he rarely showed such vulnerability unless she asked for it. And this was not a matter in which she could just simply ask for him to be vulnerable with her. 

"How much did you hear," he'd hummed as he casually removed his patch, revealing his sapphire to her just before he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it onto a nearby chair. It became clear to her that he intended on returning to bed with her, and she supposed he could, the hour still seemed quite early, and even if he had called for a bath to be brought, it would still be a few minutes before it arrived. 

Rhaena watched as he sat back on his side of the bed, removing his boots, before laying back in just his breeches, and that's when she knew she had his full attention to respond. 

"Enough, I suppose," she'd sighed somewhat wistfully, as she moved to rest her head on his shoulder, the gesture was light, but it indicated her silent question of 'can I touch you' or 'do you wish to be touched now' . To be honest, she knew the answer was 'yes' , it almost always was, she'd learned over the past moon that touching, at least when it came to her, was something he found great comfort in. But the key was, he always seemed to do it on impulse, if they were in close proximity, he'd find a way to touch her. Even in public, whether it be a hand on her arm, her hip, her lower back or more possessively an arm around her waist.

If he wasn't reaching for her, she usually would just reach for him instead, but this matter was different, it was delicate, and Rhaena knew when best to air on the side of caution with a dragon. 

With a heavy exhale, he'd quite swiftly scooped her up and held her against him. Once again that warmth she'd been searching for had instantly engulfed her, as if the heat so simply just radiated from his skin, his blood, eternally hot like the true dragon he was. 

"Then you heard, my father's dead," he replied simply, as if it was nothing. As if the news was just another regular occurrence. Though Rhaena couldn't be entirely shocked, there was once a time when Aemond had said his 'father had been dying for the entirety of his life' . She supposed he expected this day sooner rather than later, she supposed he'd long since prepared for this day as opposed to most children with their own fathers.

But even still, she'd expected something...more.

"Aemond," she breathed, gliding her hand up along the pale curls that trailed his abdomen and up to his chest, feeling the light sprinkling of pale golden chest hair he had as her fingers caressed and rested against his peck, "it is okay to mourn him, my love. I know you were not close to him, but he was your father. Surely this news affects you,"

Aemond shifted at the sound of her words, exhaling heavily in a huff this time, seemingly slipping from her grasp. 

It seemed she hadn't been as delicate as she hoped to be.

He'd moved himself to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the side so as to keep his back to her as his voice grew low with the hint of a rasp, "Rhaena...I know he was a favourable uncle to you, so I would not stop you...you are free to mourn him if you wish. But he was no father to me..."

A new heavy lump formed in her throat as she worked to swallow it, the words were simply just too heartbreaking to hear. Her own heart burned and twisted at the cold frankness he'd tried to pour over his tone, but she could still sense the cracks beneath. Her dragon could disguise his pain quite skillfully, that she knew for certain. But there were almost always hints, behind his icy detached efforts, she knew the little boy who'd hoped and clamoured for his father's love still lived deep within him. And so she knew there was still a part of him that still ached at this loss, just a pinch, just a tiniest bit...but she knew it existed.

Although Rhaena also knew when to let things simmer, this wasn't the moment to push the matter. If she did, he'd only pull further away and she did not wish for that. She did not wish for him to close himself off from her. He'd do almost anything she asked of him, but reaching behind the veil of his most guarded insecurities and vulnerabilities...it always proved to be a gamble. 

For every moment where he had complete and utter trust in her...she feared there were several moments he just did not trust anyone other than himself with certain parts of himself.

In this moment, she'd count this as the latter. Rhaena simply sighed to herself and moved over to him, scooted over to his side of the bed, she pulled herself up. Pressing her bare body against his sculpted back, wrapping her arms around him as she rested her chin on shoulder. Rhaena hadn't asked if he wanted her touch, she didn't need to, she knew he'd want it...need it. He'd pushed himself away from her just moments ago but she knew her husband, he'd regret the loss of her skin against his. So she'd grant it to him before he sought to gain it back himself.

And just as she expected, he leaned into her, his fingers gently fidgeting with hers. She could hear him gritting and growling to himself, Rhaena knew this situation was complicated for him. So she hummed sweetly, pressing a kiss to his warm shoulder then the side of his neck and finally the straight carved angle of his jaw, "ñuha gevie zaldrīzes," my beautiful dragon . 

She could feel the exact moment he'd closed his eye, his body relaxing fully against her hold as his heart calmed. Nuzzling her cheek against him, she spoke softly, "I don't mean to push you...I just...I know it's difficult. And while I cannot relate to your specific relationship with your father, I do know how it feels to lose a parent. So...I only wished to convey that no matter what you feel for him or the feelings that may arrive on this day. I will be with you for all of it, you can trust me with those parts of yourself."

"I wouldn't compare the true loss of your mother to my loss today," Aemond muttered, successfully pulling her body around his left side and depositing her upon his strong sturdy lap. One of his arms wrapped securely around her waist as his other large hand cupped her cheek, allowing his the deep Indigo hue of an eye to peer into hers, "besides, it is not you that I doubt, you know that I trust you with every part of me." 

Surely that was only half true...but she'd concede, he certainly trusted her with a great deal of his vulnerabilities.

But there were more...more she'd have to earn access to and Rhaena accepted that as well. They'd spent the last ten years hating one another in separate places, only to be thrust together a near year ago... only made spiteful lovers a few moons ago...only made true lovers a moon ago. 

They had not been coupling long enough for Rhaena to have access to every true part of him just yet, physically mayhaps...emotionally, certainly not. 

But she had begun to learn the way of unraveling Aemond Targaryen. 

It was all a matter of deciphering his expressions, in all honesty it felt like Rhaena was learning a whole new language. But it was a language Rhaena dared to think she'd grown nearly fluent in. 

For even now, as his jaw remained clenched and hardened, his gaze intense and piercing as his nose reflexively flared...one could be mistaken in taking his expression at face value as the snarl it seemed to be. But there were layers. When the emotion he wished to convey was beyond words, a feeling that he felt he embodied entirely...emotions he could not speak of. The sort of things he could only ever faintly mention at most, he'd either deflect it or mask it. Unless he would do far better to convey such an emotion with a physical action.

In this instance...he was certainly masking.

Rhaena could see that the fierce look in his eye was a burning look of trust and love...he just hardened the exterior. She could read that, she could understand her dragon when he spoke to her in his own way.

Maybe it was the glint in his eye...in all honesty if someone ever asked her how she managed, she wasn't sure she'd actually be able to truly explain his tells. She just knew them, she could feel them... sense them.

So a soft smile formed on Rhaena's lips, basking in his gaze, she nuzzled her nose in against his, slipping her arms back over his shoulders, "I know you do. I just...I worry for you, today will be incredibly onerous."

"I am fine, I assure you," he finally remarked solidly, convincingly so, leaning his forehead against hers as he inhaled deeply, "he died in his sleep last night, so I assume it was somewhat peaceful. Your parents are arranging a funeral pyre for him to take place early this afternoon so… Balerion may welcome him properly." 

Rhaena had heard him earlier, when he told his mother to allow Viserys this final right of being a true born Targaryen, a dragon in his own right. To return the dragon blood to fire, to ash, to let the Fourteen Flames collect their fallen child. Aemond still believed his father had been greeted by Balerion, still believing that he would be granted the right to pass through to the great Heavens . 

'He was no father to me...'

Maybe not, but the part of him that cared had peaked through his facade. 

Unless he was saying that for her benefit…but it would not be necessary. No, this had to be thought he cared for…she'd made no mention of hopes that Balerion would take Viserys. It was Aemond who'd brought it up, who'd bothered to consider whether his father would truly be greeted by their Gods and granted eternal happiness.

They were alone here, no one he need pretend or make appearances for. 

She would not call attention to it, instead pulling closer to her dragon, embracing him closely so that he may hold her tightly. She decided she'd instead allow the continuous burn of tears that threatened to tumble down her cheeks to finally fall.

In them she could feel the bittersweet taste of knowing that while she ached for the loss of her sweet uncle, she was right in knowing that her beloved still wished for his father to be well in some capacity and that alone meant a lot to her. 

☾

"Dārys Visērȳs Targāryen, brōzi ēlie zȳho.  Riña hen Baelon Targāryen se Alyssa Targāryen.  Riña hen Aegarax hae mirre ānogar hen zaldrīzes iksis…" King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name. Child of Baelon Targaryen and Alyssa Targaryen. Child of Aegarax as all blood of the dragon is. A priest dressed in grey robes spoke grandly as he stood before the prepared pyre that held Viserys' ceremonially wrapped body. 

Here they stood as a family, upon the Dragon Mound, where the sky took on the gloomy dark mood the Targaryen family themselves were feeling. Thick grey clouds swarmed the skies and Rhaena nearly thought the disastrous storm from last night might return and drown their ceremony in an onslaught of pouring rain. 

For the moment, it seemed the Gods would respect their loss. 

"Ziry kessa sagon returned naejot se perzyssy. Va bisa tegun skoriot ziry istin gūrotan isse jelevre se ābrar. Skoriot ziry istin jorrāelatan se sōpagon," he shall be returned to the flames. On this land where he once took in breath and life. Where he once loved and laughed , the Priest continued, each phrase brought on another gust of wind, as if each word invoked the Gods themselves. 

Rhaena and the entirety of her family dressed in black mourning attire. Targaryens and Velaryons stood the closest to the pyre but still several paces back, they stood in order of importance. Rhaena's mother and father stood the closest, followed by Jace, Baela and their son Aethan. Beside them stood Aemond and Rhaena herself, Aegon and Helaena stood with their twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Daeron stood behind them with Maelor in his arms, beside him stood Luke and Joff with little Aeggie and Vis. Grandmother Rhaenys and grandfather Corlys stood to the right of Rhaenyra and Daemon. 

Uncle Viserys' pyre had a few trusted King's Guards and several Gold Cloaks watching on.

And beyond that at a great distance, there stood Alicent and her father Otto with a handful of King's Guards. 

"Balerion brōzas syt zirȳla, syt zȳhon spirit naejot travel se bōsa geralbar naejot se ōños. Se perzyssy kessa carry zirȳla naejot zȳhon mirre lasting lyks," Balerion calls for him, for his spirit to travel the long road to the light. The flames will carry him to his everlasting peace . 

Rhaena had her arm looped around Aemond's, and as the ceremony went on, she found herself pulling closer and closer to him. She could see the tears on her mother's face even as she stood tall and Queenly, the stoic yet incredibly pained expression on her father's face even as he kept his stance strong and sturdy for his wife…for all of his children. Aeggie and Joff were sniffling and sobbing right along with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, poor little Vis had no real understanding of what this ceremony was. Aethan had sweetly fallen asleep in his father's arms, while Jace wore his most invulnerable expression…though his eyes burned a teary red as did Baela’s and Luke's. Corlys looked slightly forlorn and Rhaenys looked genuinely on the brink of tears. 

"Hen perzyssy naejot ash, Visērȳs targāryen kostagon ēdrugon," From flames to ash, Viserys Targāryen may rest.

Those were the final words, and with them everyone looked to Rhaenyra, it was her duty to set her father alight. The beautiful glistening golden scales of the effervescent Syrax shined brightly even in the cool grey light of the overcast sky, she rumbled and shook, feeling her bonded one's pain and discomfort. But she stood at the ready, waiting for her command to complete the practice that would truly release Viserys' spirit. 

Rhaena watched as her father placed a loving hand on his wife's shoulder, letting her rest her forehead against his for but a quick moment. No one would hear or know what was murmured between the two, but after a moment she took a deep shuddering breath and stepped forward. Locking her gaze on the pyre that held her deceased father, with a glance towards her mount, she uttered the final word, " dracarys ."

At her command, Syrax winded her head round, from her perch on the small peak of a hill, she breathed bright hot orange flames. Setting the pyre alight instantaneously, with an earth shattering roar. 

King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name…gone from this world forever…now engulfed in flames as his spirit has now been welcomed by Balerion and taken to the heavens. 

Rhaena had felt her own tears burning down her cheeks for the entirety of the ceremony, she'd been clutching onto her husband's arm with a fervor. But her dragon, she'd glanced up at him periodically, he remained firm like stone. His face gave no discernable emotion or affection…Aemond just kept his eye on the fire. The intense flames that crackled and burned. 

To be fair all of Viserys' younger children held similar expressions, Aegon looked dazed, Helaena looked fleetingly focused, Daeron much like Aemond gazed with intensity…but not emotional loss…something within them was burning, tossing and turning. Nothing laid still. 

And as the dark smoke of Viserys' charred and burned body floated up into the sky, several roars from the cluster of dragons that were now nestled deep within the volcano of the Dragon Mount echoed throughout the island. 

And with that…he was gone. 

Viserys Targaryen could finally rest. 

☾

It had been true, after the funeral, they were all to return to King's Landing. The whole family needed to be present when Rhaenyra was crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not solely just to show their support but also to help put down any sort of uprisings or rebellions should they occur. 

And so they hadn't had long, this was a day of mourning but they could not rest, in a matter of hours, everyone had been packed and prepared.

And there stood Rhaena, on the grassy plains with the rest of her family all readying themselves to mount their respective dragons. It had become a lot windier, the gusting breeze nearly felt punishing as if the Gods were displeased, angered by the power vacuum that currently existed. They wouldn't rest until a Targaryen sat the throne, until the heir took her rightful place…and maybe only then would the sun shine again. 

Rhaena had been making her goodbyes, relishing in the final moments she'd have to simply refer to her parents as her muña and kepa in public, before she'd have to steel her emotions, mask her familial ties and refer to them as her Queen and King . 

"Are you certain you do not  wish for me to sail with you, muña? I'm sure Aemond would not mind flying back with out me on Vhagar with him," Rhaena murmured in her mother's embrace, and she'd been entirely serious as Rhaenyra would not be flying in her present condition, she'd somehow managed to draw a choked chuckle out of the older woman. 

"Oh my darling, I am not certain we speak of the same Aemond," she smiled pulling back just slightly, cupping Rhaena's face in her hands with great affection she pressed a warm kiss to her forehead, to be fair she was right, Aemond stood only a little ways off and he seemed to have his gaze locked on them, "see, he looks for you now and you stand merely a few feet away. I'm sure after last night he has no wish to be parted from you, and I would not blame him for that. No it is alright, in either case I shall have Baela, Helaena and Alicent...as well as all the little ones for company on our voyage. You needn't worry, for me, sweetling." 

Her words were reassuring but even still Rhaena's chest felt just as heavy, but she would not disagree with her mother. Instead she simply smiled and nodded, taking her leave and walking back towards Vhagar. There Aemond stood leaning against his mountainous mount, looking like a true Targaryen King of Old. All clad in black, a stark contrast to his pale ivory skin and platinum blonde hair. She'd braided it herself earlier this morn, he seemed to favour her single plait styling for him. And Rhaena could agree it certainly suited her husband, the tendrils that framed the sleek cut angles of his striking face…he looked incredibly alluring.

If she spent a moment longer gazing longingly at her pretty Prince, then she hoped he wouldn't draw attention to it.

Though she supposed, that wouldn't be inline with the man she married. 

By the time she'd stepped in front of him, Aemond's pointed lips had pulled into one of his devious smirks, his rich indigo eye wandering her form before landing on her face, "ūndegon mirros ao hae, byka dārilaros," see something you like, little Princess.  

For the first time that day, Rhaena found herself feeling lighter…brighter, nearly normal . She even rolled her eyes as she fought an oncoming grin, "sīr olvie nēdenka hen ao naejot pendagon, ñuha dārilaros.  Īlen simply jurnegēre Vhagar," so very bold of you to think, my Prince. I was simply admiring Vhagar. 

Her voice floated with a playful level of mirth as she bit back a smile, but Aemond was quick to hook his arm around her waist, drawing her body against him. The wind had all but blown the pins from their place in her curls as she felt Aemond smooth a few, tucking them behind her ear and away from her face. Leaning over her, seemingly fighting the urge to claim her lips there in front of the whole of their family, instead he pressed a rather long heated kiss to her cheek. Taking the opportunity to whisper by the shell of her ear, "Iksan certain emā dōrī jūndan rȳ Vhagar hae bona.  Iā jurnegon hae bona kessa mazverdagon nyke jaelagon ra," I'm certain you have never looked at Vhagar like that. A look like that will make me want things.

'Make me want things' oh of that Rhaena had no doubt, and to think his libido knew no bounds even on a day like today. She supposed it would be a rather pleasant distraction from the doom and gloom of the day, but there'd be no time for such activities now. And no matter how charming and seductive her husband sought to be during their ride, she would not fall to bits, not this time, not for his wants on this flight. 

But for the moment she could indulge him just a little, draping her arms up and over his shoulders, she nuzzled her nose against his. Sighing softly…contentedly, "ondoso se bantis, kostā emagon skoros jaelā, yn syt sir, istiti jikagon," by the night, you may have what you want, but for now, we must go.

A resounded low growl rumbled in his throat, but ultimately he'd nod and agree. And within the quick split second where his attention lulled on her eyes, Rhaena sneaked a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. Feeling her body surge with warmth as she smiled up at him, it was the slight shock in his eye, the flash of the softest expression she'd ever seen him make…that had been what made her heart burn. 

Sometimes a simple bit of affection was enough to catch her dragon off guard.

And that always made her smile.

☾

The flight from Dragonstone to King's Landing was not a long one, about an hour in duration, maybe two with the low visibility they had in these low hanging storm clouds.

The wind chilled her skin, it smelled of rain and the air felt moist and dewy, even as Rhaena sat in front of Aemond upon Vhagar, she could not see too far into the distance. Usually one could see King's Landing on the horizon on a clear day, usually one could see the Red Keeps' peaks and recognizable brick structure along with the capital's skyline. 

But not today. 

In fact today felt odd all around, there was a churning in the pit of Rhaena's stomach and she wasn't sure what blame to assign to it. She could equate it to her feelings over the loss of her uncle or towards her fears of the fight to come…or maybe she was trying to anticipate the tame drama of returning to court when all returned to normal after her mother's coronation. The moon Rhaena had spent engaged to Aemond had been an interesting one to be sure, and she could rest assure the looks and false smiles they'd receive on their return as a now married couple would only amplify it. 

*gurgle*

No…no she felt ill.

Physically nauseous, flying had never caused such a reaction before. She'd spent her life flying on the dragons her family members were bonded with, she'd known the peaks, the soaring swells and deep dives that made one's stomach drop and flip with the momentum…but she was comfortable enough with those feelings. 

She'd never felt so-

*GURGLE*

Nope, no, she was going to hurl, she felt like she was dry heaving already. She could feel the contents of her breakfast swirling, battering within her stomach. 

"Aemond!" She quickly glanced back at him, trying and praying her voice carried over the rushing winds, "we need to land!"

"What?" He sounded genuinely confused if not slightly agitated, "land? Why would we land?"

"I feel-" Rhaena quickly covered her mouth as her body wretched and gagged, "I feel ill and I need you land!" 

She could see the critical arch his brow took on, but with a sharp nod, she watched as he spotted a small island for them to descend upon. Now she might have partially regretted this, as Vhagar swooped down aiming for the small island in view, Rhaena felt her stomach rise and float suspended in midair. She'd never felt such determination to keep the contents of her stomach within her, her own mouth threatening to betray her and allow her throat to pump back up the fruits and oats she'd consumed just hours prior. 

Vhagar touched the ground in a rumble, shaking the earth and her riders equally; each sway of Vhagar’s body only exacerbated Rhaena’s nausea.  

It wasn't like her, but Rhaena did not wait for Aemond's usual chivalry. Clamouring out of his hold as she scrambled off the saddle and down the cascading netting that hung over Vhagar's side. 

Rhaena walked as far as she could, but the moment she fell to her knees, she'd succumbed to the ailment. Her stomach squeezed and constricted, wrenching and pushing, finally regurgitating the contents of her stomach into the tall grassy field. Her shoulders were shaking, her chest aching, it was nearly unbearable. 

All the while she hadn't noticed how Aemond smoothly dismounted Vhagar and swiftly made after her, only noticing his presence behind her when she felt his large hand on her lower back. The sudden touch had startled her, but the motions of his hand had begun to soothe her slowly. With the added softness of how he gently held her hair back and out of her face, he'd been kneeling behind her, holding as she heaved the last of her breakfast. Her throat burned as her stomach continued to push even though she no longer had anything else to expel. 

But finally in the end, when her stomach had finally calmed, she sat back on her knees, wiping her mouth as she groaned at the discomfort. 

"Rhaena," her name was drenched in all of the concern he clearly felt for her, and as she looked back at him, she could see it clearly etched on his face. Rhaena for her part took a deep shaky breath, leaning herself back into Aemond's open embrace, where she simply took in the fresh air that surrounded them. 

She let the air cool her, calm her body. And finally when she felt well enough to speak, she simply breathed, "I am well, my dragon." 

The look in his eye said otherwise but for the moment he didn't question her on it, he did not rush her to rise either. If anything he guided her to lay herself down against him, cradling her closely but keeping his hold slightly loose should she think to feel sick again. 

However long they laid in the soft cool grass together that afternoon, Rhaena could not be certain. But the longer they did, she simply breathed, calming herself with the scent of her dragon. Citrus notes mixed with a deep warm woody scent ( she'd discovered the mix smelled quite heavenly ) with a hint of Vhagar herself of course. 

She let the breeze and her husband's warmth draw her eyes closed, and in the slightest peace she felt there…she began to wonder just what had brought on this bout of nausea. 

☾

TWO MOONS LATER…

In the moons that had passed, Rhaenyra had been crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms without fail or compromise. With every available dragon at her back, no fool would dare challenge her, even Otto kept his silence…at least for the time being. He had more pressing matters to come to terms with, for as Rhaena's parents took their rightful place…Otto Hightower was immediately demoted…well fired, honestly. 

In fact, the entirety of the Small Council had been reworked and replaced with truly loyal Lords and members of staff. 

Otto Hightower's position had been snatched from him and given to a far more deserving member of the family, a woman who was once prepared to rule the Kingdoms herself, one who's always had the mind for politics and maneuvers…grandmother Rhaenys. A touching moment it had been, for certainly even she had not expected her former Good-daughter to give her such a position…but it was beautiful to see. While grandfather Corlys had remained Master of Ships, other than that every position had been made full by proper competent servants to the crown. 

And just like that…for two solid moons…the realm ran like it should. 

Rhaena and Aemond had remained in King's Landing for the past two moons as it certainly helped to keep the rebellions out men's minds when they reconciled with the fact that the fearsome Vhagar and her terrifying rider Aemond " One Eye " Targaryen rode for Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

It wasn't entirely true, he rode for Rhaenyra because he couldn't bring himself to ride for Aegon…but probably more obviously, he rode for Rhaenyra because Rhaena herself would never side against her mother. It was also fair to assume that in the last few moons Aemond had grown to accept his Rhaenyra truly as his elder sister, as most days she couldn't help but mother him just a bit. She'd taken her role as his Good-mother quite seriously, and maybe she enjoyed the slight shock and confusion that always befell Aemond whenever she treated him with such warm and gentle care. 

Maybe Rhaena found it enjoyable to watch as well. 

But as her husband and his brothers, as well as Rhaena's own brothers and father had been careful to put down any rebellion that had arisen, they were living in a rather peaceful lull at the moment.

And so this morn, Rhaena and her husband had lazed in bed just a tad bit longer than usual. They'd bathed, separately…once again…to Aemond's dismay. He'd spent the morning grumbling, as he did most mornings, about how King's Landing's tubs were too small , and how he couldn't wait to return to Dragonstone where the tubs could fit them both once again .

Rhaena always laughed, for only he could be so annoyed and upset over something so inconsequential. But she'd allow him the little things she supposed, if she was being honest with herself, she also missed their shared morning baths together. They’d attempted to squeeze themselves into one of the King’s Landing tubs during the first few weeks of their stay here…and to be honest…with how cramped the sizing was. Rhaena just ended up seated atop her husband…and in that position…very little actual bathing took place. 

So that became more of a fun treat…than an effective way to truly bathe. 

Once they'd been dressed and readied for the day, they made their way to the dining hall for breakfast.

They'd passed several Lords and Ladies on their way, receiving the usual greetings, false smiles, and eager mentions…and glaring stares. Now Rhaena knew how to maneuver court. If Aemond was a master of the sword, then this was her realm, her battlefield and her behaviour and words were her weapons. Hallway encounters were usually nothing to bat an eye at to Rhaena, Nobles were eager to cross paths with royalty. Eager to slide their way into one's good graces and thoughts…it was their goal to be thought of. All of these fruitless encounters all perfectly crafted for the sole purpose of being acknowledged, and with this acknowledgement, should a position or an event or fete come about…they'll hope their Royals thought them agreeable enough to be remembered. 

To be invited. 

And as Rhaena knew this, she also knew she needn't say or do much in these interactions but smile back and at most extend her own brief greetings. 

Which, now that she was married, she'd quickly adapted to the fact that her greetings were no longer just extended from herself. She'd need to extend them from her dragon Prince as well, as this was not a climate he found comfortable. It wasn't that he feared them…he just disliked the falsities of court-life, he hated the personas one must wear to survive within it. And in all honesty she knew he could care less to be greeted and worse yet return greetings to any of the Lords or Ladies he deemed to be beneath them. 

So, Rhaena would handle these moments with poise and with grace. This was how she guarded her dragon, this was how she protected him. 

It was something she was happy to do…when he made it easy for her.

They were leaving the western wing of the castle and heading towards the eastern side when…

"Princess!" There came a faintly familiar voice from down the main corridor, Rhaena couldn't be entirely certain, not until the person drew closer. 

And to her horror…it was exactly who she thought it was. 

Dalton Greyjoy… Lord Dalton Greyjoy . 

Oh fuck. 

Dressed impeccably from head to toe in fine leathers, slick black breeches and a very smooth smokey grey doublet. His neck length medium-toned deep brown hair was combed in suave waves, let loose to hang just off his broad shoulders. His cheeky grin already spread wide across his face, the jovial saunter in his step all too familiar.  

Rhaena wanted to bolt, internally…she was screaming. Dalton was the last man on earth she expected to see today…and if she was being honest, maybe ever. Of course it was unrealistic to assume she'd simply avoid him for the rest of her life, but the mere idea that Dalton and Aemond would cross paths…with her present…it was the stuff of nightmares really. The kind of horrifying social situation she hoped to never have to experience. 

No…no…this was happening and she could survive it…she just needed to remain calm. 

Aemond slipped his arm from her hold and immediately opted to hook his arm covertly around her waist, bringing her as close as possible.

Oh…this would not end well. 

She immediately had flashbacks to their encounter with Cregan Stark after the tourney from a few moons ago…and she’d barely been able to salvage that conversation. And in that situation she hadn’t actually done anything with Cregan in the past…Rhaena could only hope Dalton kept his mouth shut on their actual past. 

Rhaena's heart was rattling within her chest and her lungs felt like they'd been filled with lead and simply refused to pump any form of oxygen for her…but she'd endure. 

So long as Dalton kept his flirty nature caged and blocked off, so long as Aemond never realized she had any sort of past with Dalton beyond casual conversations and dances at balls and feasts. 

This could be fine…it would be fine. 

Dalton, ever the charmer, stopped in front of them with a flare to his step. Immediately taking Rhaena's right hand, placing a lasting greeting kiss upon it.

OH MY FUCKING GODS.  

WHAT WAS HE DOING. 

Her eyes shot wide as her heart began beating even faster. She immediately began a silent prayer in her head as her brows fought the urge to furrow, dear Gods, please…just don't let Aemond reach for his sword over this. Either way she felt Aemond’s grip on her waist tighten instantly. 

"My my, Princess Rhaena, don't you look positively radiant," his smirk deepened as his brows quirked up playfully, "ah, and Prince Aemond! My humblest greetings.  Luckiest man in the realm as I hear it, how you managed to secure the most wanted woman in all Seven Kingdoms. A feat no less," 

"Mmm Greyjoy," Aemond's tone was acidic, biting and vicious already, "I don't recall any mention of lower class citizens being allowed entry to the castle today. To what do we owe the honor? "

Fucksake Aemond.

And with that response…it stood to reason her husband was not all that fond of Dalton to begin with.

Rhaena fought the urge to roll her eyes, she could see Aemond's jaw working, clenched and grinding. There was a tick in Dalton's smile as well, a clear nip at his assured expression, but he was quick to mask it well. Letting his cocky grin only grow larger, casually leaning in on his wide imposing stance as if he wished to double-down on the idea that he was unbothered.

It spelled trouble, of that Rhaena was certain. 

Though Rhaena was also certain that both she and Aemond had caught the minute slip of his. And her dragon seemed to bask in it, a sinister smirk forming on his lips, he would be sure to dig at that proverbial wound. 

For a moment the silence was thickening, Rhaena charted through her mind the various ways she could bring this conversation to a more levelled playing field. For this interaction needn't be so antagonistic, and Rhaena would be damned if she was caught in the middle of such a petty battle so early in the morning. 

Dalton chuckled something bitter, but Rhaena quickly flashed a warm smile, towards Dalton all while simultaneously placing her hand over Aemond's on her waist, letting her nails bite into him just a bit. He wouldn't wince, but she needed him to recognize that she saw what he was doing. 

"Lord Greyjoy, my husband only jests, of course. We are very pleasantly surprised by your visit," Rhaena's voice stayed lilted like a sweet flower, it was her expertise of course to sway this conversation to her whims, "I've heard of your many successes in squashing several rebellions in Iron Islands these past few moons. You must be here to speak with my mother, the Queen, I presume." 

Easy, quaint, respectful. 

Could the two men standing with her not just simply follow her lead and do the same. 

"Oh my dear Rhaena, I'm well acquainted with our sullen Prince's brand of humour, no worries there," Dalton smirked, crossing his arms comfortably as if he hadn't just removed the honorifics from her title purposely to egg Aemond on further. With the added implications that gave a  hint to the intimacy of his relationship with Rhaena herself. 

"But you are indeed right," Dalton continued, stepping around Rhaena as he cast a slightly sentimental gaze out of one of the hallway's arching windows before his bright green eyes refocused on Rhaena and only Rhaena, "I put down a fuck ton uprisings for our good Queen Rhaenyra, as any good serving Lord would."

"Of course," Aemond replied smoothly yet sarcastically, before muttering, " fucking twat ," beneath his breath.

Whether Dalton heard him or not, Rhaena couldn't be certain seeing as the handsome Lord simply breezed by Aemond's comment and continued speaking, "but that's dull. I have another reason for my visit, and I'm glad I've run into you… both I suppose…"

Dalton ran a hand smoothly through his hair, his gaze still locked onto Rhaena, only sparing Aemond a glance when he'd said the word 'both' . But Aemond wasn't blind to it, in fact it seemed he was fighting the urge to release his hold on Rhaena's waist just long enough to lunge onto the Lord. 

At a glance it would surely be an even match, both Aemond and Dalton were of similar height, similar body build and strength most likely. Dalton may have been just the slightest bit bulkier, but Rhaena did not doubt her husband's ability to use that against his opponent. 

"If you're here to see my sister, then go see her. The Queen is most likely in the throne room just waiting for your apparent important arrival," the sarcasm was just oozing off of Aemond's tongue, "of course, unless more important Lords have her attention…in that case, find some other banal way to waste your time and wait your turn. As my wife, Princess Rhaena and I are currently indisposed." 

Oh Gods, she knew…she knew Aemond had paid close attention to that.

Once again Lord Dalton only chuckled, nodding to several Lords and Ladies as they passed by in the halls, "you're so serious, my Prince. You must be incredible fun at fetes and feasts, I'm sure. Look, I only wish to extend my apologies for missing your grand wedding. I heard your nuptials were quite a thing, it was the talk of the realm for a time. Twas a pity I missed it."  

"Yes, a fucking pity ," Aemond stepped forward, but Rhaena pulled him back as subtly as she could. He was quite a weight when he wished to be, she felt as if she was pulling at a boulder. 

"Lord Dalton, we of course received your gifts and were quite appreciative of your thoughts for us on our wedding day," Rhaena tried to regain her composure and take control of the conversation yet again, seeing as the two men before her sought to only rile one another up, "but my husband is right, my mother and the throne room are on the main floor, just below us." 

And at that…there was a subtle shift, a glint in Dalton's eye that only promised the presumed chaos Rhaena sought to shield herself from earlier. 

"Now now, Rhaena , what's with all this Lord business. Surely we're beyond such formalities," he grinned, his eyes now roving over Aemond's form, seemingly eyeing just far he could take his words before the repercussions for them were dealt, "I would like to think, though now you may…be wed . You haven't entirely forgotten our friendship , have you." 

Fucking hells, Dalton!

In all her life she was certain she'd never felt fire like she had when Aemond's icy Indigo eye slowly refocused on her from the corner of his eye. His fingers were now biting into her skin at this point, the low rumble of a dragon burning with a quiet frightening fury emitting from him. 

She could only sigh now, resigned to whatever fate would befall her now.

Clearly Dalton did not know when danger stood directly in front of him, or maybe domineering predators could never recognize the same traits within one another. 

" Friendship , hmmm," Aemond hummed dangerously.

Rhaena did not have the strength to grip her own nails into the offending hand, but she did try, all while keeping her own countenance visibly sweet and kind. 

"Oh my husband, Lord Dalton Greyjoy here only jests. Mere acquaintances would be a more apt word for it," Rhaena fought to keep her biting annoyance and discomfort from bleeding into her airy tone, "as we've only spoken a handful of times and danced much less. Besides, I am a married woman now, it would not be proper for me to refer to you by just your given name. And vice versa, my Lord." 

That should have sufficed.

Key words being should have. 

"Besides that, my Lady wife could surely do better…with her acquaintances ," Aemond gritted, his hand already itching to reach for his blade. And Dalton, though he may not have looked it…his hand was itching to do the same.

Sighing deeply, Rhaena prepared herself to end this while she could. 

Only Dalton beat her to it, "hmph, she didn't seem to mind my friendship last year. In fact, I think she sought me out time and time again quite eagerly I might add…but what would I know, lowly Lord that I am," he grinned, bowing just enough to call it a respectful exit, "I shall take my leave then, as I'm certain my Queen awaits me." 

Oh my fucking Gods , Rhaena groaned.

All the while, Aemond nearly bolted out of Rhaena's hold. But Lord Dalton Greyjoy was swift and nimble, laughing as he made his way down the corridor in large quick strides. He was gone before they knew it and Rhaena couldn't help but feel slightly relieved in a sense.

Though that weight lifted feeling quickly vanished when Aemond finally turned to face her, his face hardening into something she faintly recognized and didn't all the same. 

She'd say her dragon was agitated…but it was more than that. Rage and annoyance…mixed with peak heightened levels of what Rhaena dared to think might have been just plain pure jealousy . 

Rhaena wouldn't be free to ponder on it now though, for Aemond moved just as swiftly as Dalton had, grabbing a hold of her forearm as he yanked her back down the way they came. She was barely keeping up with him as her mind raced to think of where he was taking her. 

If she knew her Prince and she did, jealousy in him usually equaled one very insistent and needy urge to take her presently. To re-lay his claim to her and prove that he was the one who should command her attention. 

And usually she relished such moments. 

Only this time…it wouldn't be so simple. 

It seemed they'd most likely miss breakfast entirely this morning. Just grand, thanks for that, Dalton Greyjoy . 

☾

"Aemond!" Rhaena panted heavily, her body was on fire, burning with a level of want and need she'd never experienced before, "it was nothing, I promise you nothing ever happened," 

Why she bothered to reaffirm the point any longer, she didn't know. 

Aemond's glare burned through her from his position between her legs, he'd been ravenously devouring her for what seemed like forever, never allowing her to truly reach her peak until he was satisfied with her responses. 

This was a punishment . 

And it was killing her. 

He'd bound her hands up above her head with his eyepatch no less, he'd even looped the strap to the headboard of their bed to keep her from wriggling away from his intense attention. And it was working, for she was forced to endure, caught between begging for him to allow her the pleasure of finishing and crying for him to believe her when she said Dalton was little more than an acquaintance. 

Neither of which he sought to grant her.

Aemond's skilled tongue was working a devastating pressure against her clit, flicking and suckling her, causing waves of heated pleasure to course through her. That favoured feeling she knew well, once again began to rise within her, her back arching as the two fingers he had within her thrusted and worked her heated core. He kept a pace that only made Rhaena want to grind up against his hand and face.

The sight of him down between her legs, his face looked so pretty, he looked so perfect. The pale morning sun truly made him look like heavenly perfection, it was enough to make her squirm with added moisture. 

Aemond's rakish grin told her that he knew the exact power he had over her, only, just as she began to rock her hip against his hand… his grin deepened as he pulled himself back from her.  

"Aemond!" Rhaena cried, her chest clenching deeply at the loss of him, her legs falling flat on either side of him, "I don't know what you wish to hear,"

It was a lie. 

She knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted the truth, the whole of it, exact details of what occurred with Dalton and what role she had to play in it. 

But she wasn't foolish enough to give him that. 

And he knew it. 

"You know exactly what I wish to hear," his jaw was grinding now, his sapphire eye glistening an ethereal blue in the morning sun, in fact everything about him looked like a true God of Old in this lighting. As he sat himself back on his knees, he let his eye wander over her bare body, splayed on her back just for him. She could see the way his eye lingered on her heaving breasts, the clear hunger he had apparent on his face. 

But Rhaena wouldn't cow, she could handle this. She bit her lip sharply, holding her tongue as her eyes continued to roam over his body. The sight of him made her body spark with shivering bolts of electricity coursing through her. 

It wasn't fair, the gorgeous way his silky pale blonde hair poured over his broad toned shoulders and biceps. His sleek sculpted chest, the carved muscles of his abdomen and the way his torso curved into his narrowing waist. All the little scars he had, cuts and nics, and slices from his training. 

Everything about him seemed perfectly designed to drive her insane, and to think she'd almost chosen to simply do her duty instead of following her desire. 

From the moment he'd taken her back to their chambers, he'd all but torn off her gown and lured her back to their bed with possessive caresses and sultry kisses. But he'd made sure to strip himself bare as well at the time. At the start of this, she'd been expecting his cock to fill her quickly, she expected him to fuck his aggression out of his system. Rhaena had expected her husband to play his usual game of how many times can I make my wife cum in one place . 

But it hadn't been that way, it wasn't just the need to reclaim her body, it was the need to possess her completely.

Aemond had spent the last near hour slowly undoing her, working her into a begging little mess. Sprawled out on their bed, she was becoming quite desperate for both her own release and for him to finally thrust into her.

By this point, Rhaena would quite easily admit to feeling entirely possessed. 

But she knew he wanted more.

As he sat in front of her, kneeling as he draped her spread legs over and around his hips, she couldn't help the way her eyes lingered on his incredible member. 

Rhaena could see by the look in his eye, he knew exactly what she wanted. His enticing lips had curled into one of his cuter more genuine smiles, though the affection was laced with scorching dragon's fire. 

And at that, Rhaena gave up and groaned once again, letting her head fall back against the pillows behind her as Aemond slowly slid his fingers from her. 

He was toying with her, literally and figuratively, gliding his fingers up and over her drenched folds as he leveled his eye on hers, "oh ñuha zaldrītsos, kostan tepagon ao skoros jaelā. Ao sepār jorrāelagon naejot ivestragon nyke…" oh my little dragon, I can give you what you want. You just need to tell me…

"Konīr iksis daorun naejot ivestragon," there is nothing to tell , Rhaena groaned, pulling on her restraints once again, "ziry means daorun naejot nyke, kostagon īlon daor sepār nārhēdegon skoros vestas," he means nothing to me, can we not just forget what he said.

With a sigh, Aemond leaned himself directly over her, making her breath catch as her eyes blinked open. He looked all aglow in the faint morning sun. His pale skin looked glittery especially his forearms and his chest as he breathed heavily, it was a distraction…or maybe her mind was beginning to turn to mush. 

Maybe she'd just lost sight of everything the moment she felt his thick length drag along her wet and wanting opening. She tried to urge her hips to stay put, but her body was working against her now, her hips instinctively driving up towards him, as if she could manage to guide his tip into her that way. 

Aemond chuckled at her efforts, grunting just a little as surely he wanted to fuck her just as much. 

Instead he let his hand grip onto her hip, the rough pad of his hand slid sweetly along her smooth skin, up her waist and finally stopping to squeeze and caress her breast. He was leaning closer, letting his other hand slide up the center of her body until it wrapped loosely around her neck. His thumb caressing the small X scar that remained at the base of her collarbone, he ran his tongue along the healed grooves of it, working warm kisses up along her neck before his teeth grazed the lobe of her ear. 

"It's not about what he said, my little dragoness," he breathed against her, "the fucking Iron Islands twat made some implications , now I could kill him, troublesome as the aftermath may be…or you could just admit that something more than friendship occurred with him."

Fucking hells.

She only whimpered, the hand he had on her breast was massaging her far too nicely, even the tightening grip he had around her neck only proved to arouse her more. So much heat was pooling in her lower belly, her cunt felt she was simply leaking slick with all of his ministrations.

"Aemond," Rhaena whinned deeply, her throat had tired of the sound, and her face had dipped into a rather permanent frown as her brows furrowed profusely, "why does it matter, it was a year ago…nearly two by now. Long before we were anything, it meant nothing…it currently means nothing to me." 

She'd hoped that answer would be enough to finally grant her his cock…once again she was both right and wrong. 

Aemond had emitted a deep growl towards her words, pulling himself up, he leaned his forehead down against hers, "I don't care how long ago it was, I wished to know what happened." Rhaena hadn't been prepared for the rough, needy way he'd taken her lips, his tongue invading her mouth, allowing her to taste her own tangy flavour from his tongue. 

This was a losing battle, she would have much rathered he had ranted and raved at her, at least she could have stood her ground and had a chance of succeeding then. 

In this, she couldn't possibly win. She wanted everything he gave her, she was desperate for his attention and she needed the pleasure he offered her…even when he snatched it away just as quickly. His kiss was hot and deep it was making her moan with pitchy need, and in that moment he took her moans and let them spur him further. 

Finally she felt him slip his hand from her throat and down to his cock, aiming the tip for her entrance, sinking into her soaked heat. 

Rhaena tried to bite her lip to muffle her gasping moan, but she wasn't able to manage, the surging pleasure overwhelming her sense of self control immediately. Gods, he was so big and hard, every time he entered her the thickness of his cock always made her feel so perfectly full. Stretching her opening and her inner walls, nestling himself sweetly within, molding his own place inside of her. 

She could still remember the first time he'd made love to her, the night she thought such a size was unbearably large and completely impossible if not wholly unmanageable. 

But now, three moons of laying with him and she knew she'd hate for him to have any other appendage. 

Slowly he thrusted into her, a grueling pace that only worked to torture her further. Surely that was his intention.

Aemond's eye was burning into hers, intensely watching and smirking her as he made her whimper and moan with every little twitch and throb his cock made within her.

Rhaena had given up on looking at him, his beautifully carved crescent moon features only served to make her more moist and aroused. Especially the fiery rage that has simmered in his eye, she could feel it, every moment that passed without her admission, he only grew angrier. And now that she'd squeezed her eyes shut, he'd purposely ramped up the speed of his thrusts. 

Every pulsing stroke his cock made within her only made her writhe more desperately against him. Both of his hands gripped into her hips now, sliding onto the plush flesh of her thighs, his hold was biting, but Gods, the pressure, even the pain, it all felt so magnificent. 

Everything within her burned, her blood sang with the pleasure he was giving her, and once again she could feel it coming. Her peak was so close, it was beginning to spark throughout her body. 

She was moaning so wantonly, her back had arched so well for his purchase…

And then he stopped. 

So abruptly, once again he let her peak fade off and away from her. 

And at that she sobbed out, "fuck! Aemond! I don't know what you want me to say, why should it matter if I've kissed him before!" 

Aemond hummed curiously then, and Rhaena realized she had indeed let something slip…something she meant to keep buried. 

Rhaena only dared to peek a glance up at her dragon Prince, groaning when she saw the glint in his eye, a wolfish grin spreading across his shapely lips.

It all happened in a slow succession of events, he began pulling his cock from her, gradually, bit by bit he slid his lengthy member from her drenched cunt as he leaned himself back over her. 

It was all so agonizing.

Especially as her eyes were found themselves glued to the slick sheen her core had covered his cock with as well as the oozing pre-cum that leaked from his tip. 

How could he possibly have so much control? Moons ago when she'd thought to punish him, bounding him to their bed in Dragonstone. She'd chosen to ride his abs for three reasons, one, to actually get back at him and teach him lesson, two, because she knew the whole display would torture him and she had really enjoyed the sound of him begging for her. But the final reason had been because she knew if she'd chosen to properly ride his cock…like he'd all but begged her to do…she would've lost control of the power that night. 

She would've lost herself in the pleasure, and back then she would not have been able to fuck and punish at the same time. 

But it was evident that while Aemond's body wanted to give in to hers, his stubborn need for satisfaction…his need to be proven right, that she had indeed been more than fucking acquaintances with Dalton Greyjoy….he still held the ability to manage both activities.

"Was that so difficult, dōna riña," sweet girl , Aemond was now chuckling manically, leaving a trail of searing kisses along her chest and up the sweep of her neck, "now tell me…how many times." 

For a moment, she thought she'd done it…succeeded, this carefully crafted torturous fucking might finally be over and done with…but she'd been wrong. She'd only admitted to part of the truth, not the whole of it and Aemond knew it. He'd let his left hand caress her cheek before titling her chin up to his lips, with a kiss far too soft to be believed, his right hand used the smooth tip of his cock to flick and drag against her clit. 

Making Rhaena sob effectively, as Aemond smirked, swallowing the sound. 

She couldn't take much more of this, her body was aching for a release that would not come, so she tried once again to pull free from her binds and- 

THERE. 

The leather straps of his patch were starting to give, but the hold was still too strong. All of this sexual frustration was only making her sob louder, when he finally pulled away from her to caress her damp curls away from her face, she decided to give in and admit to more, "fine! Fine, it was several kisses. But it was ONLY kisses!" 

Before she could think to add more, he'd thrusted back into her with no warning, drawing a shredding moan from her throat as he held her close. Her legs finally wrapped around his waist instinctively as his body slid into place against her. She could hear all of his growling grunts in the crook of her neck, before he pulled himself up above her so his eye could lock onto hers as he fucked her brutally once again, " only kisses, hmmm. Several…and did he see you bare as well? How far has the cunt been allowed to kiss you?"  

Rhaena felt as if her mind was scrambling, she was truly cock-drunk, his thrusts felt so heavenly all she wanted to do was beg for more. But she also knew, he'd only cut her pleasure short once she reached it again. 

"Aemond, they were only kisses, our clothes remained on," she moaned as Aemond stroked her favoured angle several times, before slowing his body to a crawling stop.

She wanted to scream, throwing her head back once again.

"And did he feel you… touch you… caress you," with each growling word he spoke, his hands slid purposely along her waist and hips and down her thighs, making her cunt quiver around his cock.

Once again she pulled on her restraints, the leather giving just a bit more, if Aemond noticed, it seemed he longer cared. He just wanted her answers, his nose flaring as he breathed heavily. Grabbing her jaw, he leaned his forehead against hers, "how far did he go…how much access did you grant him…did you let him taste you."

"No!" She cried, "no, Aemond. We only kissed, just our lips. And compared to your kisses…Dalton's were sloppy and forgettable . He only groped me, he didn't caress me. It shouldn't matter, he's in my past. You are my current …my future. Besides, I could care less about the plethora of whores I'm sure you've fucked!"

"He felt you…your body…with his filthy unworthy hands. It's not the same." Aemond sneered, his eye wandering down to her lips once again and then down the rest of her body. Letting his free hand feel along her warm smooth skin yet again, as if he needed to touch her, as if to physically reclaim her in this moment somehow

In the lull of their tempered love making, Rhaena had been able to catch her breath enough to properly think, "it's the same fucking thing, if anything yours is worse! I never even fucked Dalton, I haven't even thought of him since I ended things with him! No one's ever done what you have to me or my body, no one's ever seen or touched every part of me as you have. I only burn for you . Ao sagon ñuha dārilaros, ñuha zaldrīzes, ñuha valzȳrys," You're my Prince, my dragon, my husband.

Rhaena had opted to punctuate her last sentence by speaking in Valyrian, hoping the addition of saying the words in their ancestral tongue would mean something to him. 

It seemed to have worked as he began rocking up into her once again, lowering himself and claiming her lips roughly this time, kissing her so needily, with so much love and feeling, she felt her heart soar as he did, "daorys's mirre gaomagon skoros emā naejot nyke either.  Daorys's mirre ūndegīon nyke hae emā iā jeldan naejot renigon nyke hae gaomā," no one's ever done what you have to me either. No one's ever seen me as you have or wanted to touch me as you do.

She'd gulped at the earnest tone in his voice, the look on his face, "kesrio syt mērī iā zaldrīzes kostagon drējī jorrāelagon iā zaldrīzes," because only a dragon can truly love a dragon.

"Ñuha dārilaros, ñuha zaldrīzes riña, ñuha byka ābrazȳrys," my Princess, my dragoness, my little wife , he punctuated each title with a kiss, to her lips, to her cheek, to the corner of her mouth, so tender she felt like melting. Finally with his lips pressed against her forehead, she heard smooth Valryian words flow from him in a warm whisper, "nyke gīmigon se gods vēttan ao syt nyke," I know the Gods made you for me.

Rhaena's heart threatened to explode then and there, she wasn't sure she'd ever heard him say something so… sweet before.

She'd certainly succeeded in ending her punishment

So much so that her previously irate dragon was now whispering sweet declarations to her. 

To be fair…her arms were still bound above her…so in a way, this was all still very Aemond-like .

With these binds, she couldn't hold him as she wished to. Rhaena might've wondered if the look on her face or in her eyes gave her away. For Aemond only flashed her a smirk before simply giving her binding one good yank , pulling her wrists free. She supposed he might have noticed the hold was beginning to give…no matter how subtle she thought she'd been.

But she wouldn't dwell on it, wasting no time at all reaching for his face, caressing his scar before sinking her fingers into his hair as she'd wanted to more than an hour ago. He only chuckled as she pulled him back towards her lips, the free use of her arms had given her some composure, kissing him freely had calmed her truly.

Although…Rhaena's mind had swiveled back around to something he hadn't answered. Whores , she did not truly care either way, she had him now…and he didn't seem the swaying type. But he hadn't denied her claim just minutes ago, instead he'd said it wasn't the same . 

Honestly she'd only guessed about the whores…assumed it to be true because most men were allowed such activities, most men learned their lovemaking skills from those places. But it wasn't as if Aemond had ever spoken of this beforehand…and truthfully, Rhaena had not cared to ask. 

Though if there was ever time, now would be it. 

"Aemond," she'd said his name as softly as a breath of air, he didn't open his eye, but he hummed and nodded lightly as recognition he'd heard her, "when I said you'd probably had many whores…you didn't really deny it…what I mean to say is…" 

Rhaena was becoming tongue tied, it was a straightforward question. How many whores have you fucked? Simple as that, only she couldn't seem to word it together as such. 

He only sighed, "the only whores I fucked...I fucked them because I wanted you. I wanted you so badly and I could not have you then. They were all distractions for me, poor substitutes. None of them satisfied me."

The look in his eye…the gaze leveled at her took her breath away. Made her heart pound rapidly, as her blood coursed an electric current throughout her body. If he'd been bedding whores to take his mind off of her…then his affections for her had started long before she'd assumed they had begun.

She wouldn't ask him now, she'd teased the question before, but one these days she truly would like to know when his feelings for her had actually begun.

The thought would fade from her mind as Aemond's comfortable pace had begun to increase, his hips rocking against hers more fervently creating a rather delectable obscene squelching sound. She was aching, but she still wanted so much from him.    

"Aemond, please," she'd moaned deeply, pulling herself flush against him, burying face in the crook of his neck as he did the same, "I need you…I need you…"

"What do you need, sweet girl," he rasped, stroking her even deeper, faster, harder. 

"I need you to let me cum," Rhaena gasped when she felt his thumb on her clit, helping her along.

Only then, there was a knock at their main chamber doors, a slightly muffled beating brash sound that foretold the interrupter was mostly likely a Knight. Whoever it was had not entered their chambers, they still sounded to be in the hallway. 

But nonetheless it was the fact that they were here at all that seemed to enrage Aemond more than anything else.

"My Prince! Prince Aemond, the small council meeting is to commence soon," how Ser Erryk managed to yell through two sets of closed doors and yet sound so perceptively clear…Rhaena supposed it must be in a Knight's skillset. 

Either way, she did not care for it now.

Aemond owed her an orgasm, she'd played his little game like the good faithful wife she was. He could not leave her like this just to attend his meeting. Not when he'd finally accepted the facts as they were, not when he was finally giving in to her wants and needs. 

Mayhaps she was underplaying the importance of the small council, brushing it off as her own pleasure surely took precedence in her mind, currently. But she'd blame Aemond for that! She was much too stimulated, much too frustrated, she needed release …he owed her a release . 

Damn Ser Erryk and his horrid timing, for Aemond was surely working at this very moment to give Rhaena her wanted release . 

Aemond had pulled back enough for his deep indigo eye to scan her face, looking for something she couldn't truly name at that moment. But she didn't dwell on it, slipping her hands from his hair, she cupped his face in her hands, "Nyke kivigon naejot se gods, lo ao henujagon naejot udligon bona brōzagon, nyke'll ossēnagon ao nykēla," I swear to the Gods, if you leave to answer that call, I'll kill you myself.

It wasn't a true threat, but she certainly felt the blood of the dragon burning within her to make such a promise. 

"Eman daor doubt bona ao would," I have no doubt that you would, Aemond's lips curved up most handsomely, truthfully it was a smirk that made her hips buck instantly, "yn iksan zūgagon istia umbagon syt nyke," but I am afraid you must wait for me.

In one fluid motion he quite literally stole a kiss from her before unsheathing himself from Rhaena's body. He was off the bed and on his feet in a matter of moments, pulling his breeches back on swiftly. 

Rhaena felt frozen for over a minute, had he really just done that?  

How could he!?

Slowly her eyes tracked his body, the swell of his bottom as he leaned over and pulled his black silken shirt over his incredibly toned pale back.

It wasn't fair, honestly, she wanted to wring his fucking neck for leaving her in this condition, but at the same time simply gazing at his back just made her want to run her hands along his heated skin. It was a dilemma to be sure, but all the same she had managed to pick her jaw up and pull her body into a seating position just as he was buttoning his black tunic. 

"I-" Rhaena had opened her mouth and closed it, before starting again, "you're seriously leaving?"

The smirk visible from his side profile alone told her that he found this greatly amusing. And as he stepped around the room gathering his items, securing his leather fastenings, his belt, his dagger and finally his sword, only then did he make his way back over to her. Leaning over her, specifically entering her space, only to smile wickedly as he reached over her head to retrieve his eyepatch. 

Groaning as she watched him brush his silky hair as he'd certainly ruined her styling with their recent behaviour , he simply tied half of it up and secured his patch on, afterwards. At this point, she figured he'd turn on his heel and leave. Clearly enjoying the upper hand he currently held over her, but she'd been wrong, in a casual stride, he made his way back over to her. Tilting her chin up to face him, her jaw was grinding now though, she wasn't all that fond of being left in such a condition .

"Stay here, wait for me," his low smooth voice only sent further tingling shivers down her spine, his sharply shaped lips were so close, she was actively fighting the urge to give in and kiss him as he only leaned closer and closer. 

"Those meetings could take hours," Rhaena finally managed to grit from between her teeth, be strong, two can play this game! She was literally screaming to herself at this point. 

"Then be patient, when I return, I'll take you however you wish," whether he knew Rhaena was actively avoiding his lips or not, she couldn't say, but in either case he'd opted to lean down to the right side of her neck and left her a searing love bite instead, before finally turning to leave. 

What was she meant to do now? 

☾

About an hour into waiting, Rhaena had begun to second guess her resolve. For clearly a stronger willed woman would not have waited in this situation, Baela certainly would not have. 

Though if Rhaena was being honest…she couldn't imagine Jace ever getting away with something of this nature…and to be fair, she wasn't sure she wanted to imagine it. Jace may not have been her blood brother, but having spent ten years of her life growing up with him as her sibling…he certainly felt like it. The idea of him fucking her sister was not a thought she liked to delve into with any sort of detail…Targaryen blood or not, withstanding.

What mattered now was that Rhaena was bored. 

In waiting for her dragon to return, Rhaena had elected to pass the time in various ways. She'd picked up several books…only to put each of them down after a few minutes each, for she couldn't seem to focus on any of them. Be it history, poetry or even one of her favoured romance novels…all she could think about was the raging need still aching from between her legs. 

All she could think about was her Prince and the many faces he'd made, the jealousy he'd burned with, the feel and weight of him over top of her…and she could not stop thinking about the delicious burn of his hard length within her. 

She wanted to be fucked. 

A statement she was certain most of court would never expect the pristine Princess Of Flowers to ever utter or think, but she could blame her husband for that. Before Aemond, she'd never thought of sex in any sort of real capacity. She knew it was a necessary unavoidable part of life, but she also knew her duty as a Princess, as a noblewoman. Her risky kissing sessions with Dalton Greyjoy had been as far as she'd gone with any man. And even then she'd been sure to keep herself clothed and untouched. Rhaena had kept herself quite innocent and pure by all means. 

Well…she'd certainly touched herself before, to varying degrees of success, but now…sex had become like some sort of addiction. And her beautiful Prince was the only balm for it, no one could please her like he did. Of that she was certain, no one would know how to fuck her as she liked. How as docile and sweet as she may have seemed, she truly keened to his rougher nature, his brutal need for her made their couplings so much more consuming than anything else. 

It was a hard thing to explain…and so she'd rarely ever tried to. Though in moments like these, she did wish to speak to her sister on the matter. Baela had married two years prior, she had slightly more experience in this than Rhaena did. Of course, it had crossed her mind to possibly consult Helaena as well…but whether she felt more uncomfortable bringing up Aemond's carnal needs to his own very sweet sister…or trying to gauge married life from Helaena's experience with her forced match with Aegon. 

Well, neither angle sounded too pleasant to be sure. 

So instead Rhaena wrestled with herself, she laid in bed, bare and dishevelled, awaiting her dragon. In the fur blankets, she tossed and turned, having attempted to fall back to sleep and possibly take a rest to waste the time. 

That hadn't worked either. 

So in her last attempt to alleviate herself, she threw her furs off her body, she'd somehow grown far too hot, a true rarity when Aemond wasn't around . She'd spread her legs with one thought in mind, please yourself!

Desperate times called for desperate measures, or if she was being honest with herself, when it came to her sexual wants she indeed behaved rather spoiled in those matters, she very rarely had any patience. Or maybe it was the way Aemond had teased her this morning that had caused this lack of patience, but either way she wanted her release now and she aimed to capture it. 

Only…it'd been three moons since Rhaena had touched herself in this way…Aemond had occasionally teased her by asking she please herself in front of him , but it wasn't as if he could ever wait long enough for her to finish herself off. Whether he interrupted her with his own fingers, or his tongue, or his eager cock…she'd never need work herself up to completion. 

So now, this would be the first real attempt in the last three moons where Rhaena would attempt this. She tried to work herself up, feeling and squeezing her breasts tenderly, she hadn't noticed all that much when Aemond had done this earlier…but they did feel slightly sore now. Even gently tugging on her nipples elicited a sore ache. 

Moving on from that, she slid one hand down her stomach, over her damp silver thatch of curls, and finally down between her legs. She started with her index finger, letting it circle and message her sensitive little bud in the way she'd grown to love, in the same way Aemond always managed to make her instantly squirm. 

Only, when she did it…it didn't feel nearly as good. There was no surging pleasure, no wave of fire in her blood…it just was. 

She felt numb to it. 

But Rhaena would persevere, moving her hand further, she let her thumb continue the motion as she slid her index finger between her wet folds and into her heated core. She'd gasped at the intruding feeling, but like before, Rhaena could not manage to enjoy herself. 

It was irritating! 

She even squeezed her eyes shut, slipping another finger inside herself as she tried to think. Her mind immediately imagining Aemond smirking over her, she tried to will her mind into believing that these were his fingers inside if her, maybe then she'd find enjoyment in this. 

But still nothing as she massaged her clit, rubbing and flicking in tandem with her own curling fingers…it did nothing for her. Her fingers simply weren't his, they weren't large enough or long enough, or skilled enough. 

Or maybe none of the physical attributes mattered at all…maybe it just had to be him, she needed him or none of this mattered. 

With a droning groan, she whined and pouted in defeat, letting her head collapse against the pillows as her eyes slowly opened. 

"Now isn't this a lovely sight," Aemond's velvety smooth voice penetrated her thoughts. 

Quickly her eyes snapped up and open, searching for the source of the sound, where she found her dragon, all clad in black leaning casually in the door frame of their bed chambers. He certainly filled the space, with his arms crossed as his eye very clearly lingered on her spread legs. The look on his face, the faint grin on his lips, it could be described as looking like a pure predator eyeing his next meal. 

It made Rhaena's cheeks burn, the attention was all too much all of a sudden, as if he hadn't already seen and intimately kissed every inch of her before now. She quickly pulled her fingers from herself and snapped her legs shut. 

There was a fire burning in the common room of their chambers behind him, making his pale hair flicker with a deep orange glow. 

He was a sight to be sure, everyday she wondered how any of the Ladies of court could so adamantly claim that he wasn't attractive.

Clearly they'd been blind. 

Or maybe Rhaena had an acquired taste…but if that was so, she was glad her taste had mutual feelings for her. 

Aemond closed the door soundly behind him, before he slowly sauntered over to her, that wicked smirk on his lips again, "my my Princess, were you attempting to please yourself without me?"

"Clearly it was not working," Rhaena nearly pouted, hoping her tone wasn't too biting though it probably was.

He only clicked his at tongue her though, "it didn't seem that way from where I stood," 

"Well rest assured, dear husband, looks may be deceiving," she pursed her lips. She was happy to see him…but she was still irritated with him for leaving her alone for nearly two hours. 

When he made to move over to their bed, he purposely sat so close to her, she had to curl her legs up for him to sit where he'd chosen to in front of her. He reached over and tenderly cupped her right bosom, just because he could, just because he desired to. But there it was, she was indeed sore. How she hadn't noticed it earlier, she could not say. But nothing he'd done earlier would have caused this…it had to have been something else. 

Rhaena would not get to dwell on it though, as his hand left her chest and instead landed softly on her cheek, where his eye flickered from focusing on her lips to her eyes and then her lips again, "still angry with me, hmm."

" Anger isn't the word, but I'm not particularly happy," Rhaena sighed, placing her own hand over his on her cheek. 

Wait, no, you're annoyed with him! She remembered, quickly dropping her hand to make a point. 

Aemond chuckled at that, "hmm, well you won't like this either then," 

Rhaena didn't ask, it seemed she didn't need to, not when her furrowed brows and dipping lips did that for her. 

"During the small council…some decisions were made. Our posting in Dragonstone is to officially begin, by the end of this week, in fact," he spoke rather matter-of-factly, but his tone remained soft, "with all of the rebellions that have been squashed, many Lords will be travelling between Dragonstone and here. I am to start court hearings and to sit on petitions starting today. For the dignitaries who can not journey here and make their ways to Dragonstone as the closer outpost. I'm to fly there with your father today,"

"What!?" Rhaena nearly spat.

But only he bit back a grin, remaining with his calm tone, "only for the day, we'll return in the evening."  

Now she knew a look of shock had befallen her features, but she couldn't exactly erase it. 

His words from earlier were still blaring in her mind.

'be patient, when I return, I'll take you however you wish.'

"Aemond," Rhaena spluttered, the fact of the matter was she had no qualms over him performing this duty, she just selfishly wanted what she was promised…and she could admit it was selfish to a degree. But in this moment she could not bring herself to dwell on whether it was proper and dignified or not, "Aemond, you promised to fuck me."

It was indeed crass wording, but she was beginning to unravel at the horror of him leaving her unsatisfied yet again. 

At that Aemond only sneaked his other arm around her waist and pulled her against him, nuzzling his face against her neck, breathing her in. It was a losing battle she was fighting, she didn't wish to falter, but in this embrace she couldn't help but reciprocate his affection. Allowing her arms to fall over his shoulders, wrapping herself tightly around him as her chin rested in the crook of his neck. 

"It sounds far too precious when you say it," she could feel his chuckle reverberate against her skin as he spoke softly to her, "but, I know I did. It'll just have to wait. Your father waits for me, and I'd rather this not be a day where he feels the need to pull Dark Sister on me."

She'd only scoffed at his jest, but kept her hold on him all the same. Drowning herself in his citrusy cedar wood scent. 

"Of course, I'm certain you could come as well," he mused against her, "I'd keep my word, give you your pleasure atop Vhagar."

Wildly enough she'd nearly considered the offer, until she really thought of what he was offering. At which point her eyes widened.

"I…what…no!? With my father literally flying in the sky beside us, I think not," she exclaimed dramatically. The true horror of the idea was beginning to set in and she could not help the shiver that took her over. 

Aemond, for his part, only began to laugh, "you don't usually care who hears us," he pulled back just enough to see her face, with whatever expression she'd managed only seemed to add further amusement for him. 

"There's a very clear difference between being heard…and being seen. Much less by one's father, much less by MY father," Rhaena rambled animatedly, she hadn't dwelled on the comforting way his fingers twirled and played with her soft hair, "besides for a man who wishes to keep Dark Sister sheathed away, this idea of yours would not help that." 

At that her dragon only held her gaze, his smile fading into something nearly far too soft and sentimental, before he hardened it. Nudging his nose against hers, he smoothly titled his face and stole yet another soul sucking kiss from her, it lasted only for a moment. And then he simply nodded, "very well, then I'll see you when I return." 

With a final press of his lips to her forehead, he released her and made for the door. 

"Am I to wait naked and wanting in this bed for you then too," Rhaena's comment was made purely out of sarcasm, but the heated darkness in his eye suggested he'd accept such an offer. 

"Just keep away from the Greyjoy fuck, and I'll see you when I return," his brows quirked fondly at her before he exited their bed chambers and then shared rooms altogether. 

It seemed Rhaena had the day to herself, she'd simply have to put her mind elsewhere and try her best not to think of sex. 

She could do that. 

☾

Not long after watching Vhagar and Caraxes fly into the distance, beyond the horizon, Rhaena pulled herself from their bed and summoned a bath to be prepared for her. 

She soaked herself in the steaming scented water for nearly an hour, before she dried herself off, moisturized her skin and had her ladies maids dress her in a fresh gown. It was a pale lilac gown, with lace trimmings along her shoulders, her bodice and her waist. With shimmering Amethyst gems spread throughout, with neat swirling dragons hidden in the floral designs. 

Her curls were re-styled loosely down her back, pinned away from her face with only a few left to frame her face. She donned her favoured Valyrian steel necklace along with drooping tear-drop Amethyst Crystal earrings. 

Once she was presentable she went to visit her sister. Dismissing her maids, as she walked the halls with Ser Erryk. She might've chatted his ear off with details from a book she'd read the other day, but Ser Erryk was always good company, and great when it came to small talk.  

When she arrived at Baela's chambers, Ser Erryk knocked and announced her presence for her, then took his place by the door and stood guard as Rhaena made her way in. 

The common area of the chambers were empty, but Rhaena could hear Baela call for her from her bed chambers. Their rooms were quite similar to Aemond and Rhaena's, only these felt far more Baela-like . Harder toned Black and Reds in the decor, with mounted decorated shields on the walls, painted legendary dragons upon each of them.  

With bright warm sunlight flooding the room, Rhaena felt positively calm and cozy in this space.

Stepping into Baela's bed chambers she found her sister pacing the room as she burped her son with gentle pats on the babe's back. She must have only recently fed him, for once Aethan let out a small little gurgle, he looked to be his usual happy contented self. 

Rhaena recalled the day her little nephew was born, an intense labour that took nearly ten hours. Baela had spent the day cursing and screaming at everyone, save for Rhaena herself. Baela had thrown several things at Jace, screaming the words 'you did this to me!' quite adamantly. Jace might've taken the time to laugh, only he had to focus on dodging the many books and cups Baela hurled in his direction. She was a true dragon then, full of fire and irate rage. 

Mother had thought it quite funny, and later when father heard about it he'd laughed heartily as well. 

But the moment Aethan entered the world, screaming and crying in full health. Baela had never beamed more, Jace as well. Nursemaids were at the ready, but Baela had all but bit their heads off with the fact that she would indeed be nursing her own child. Aethan Velaryon was the blood of the dragon, and so he would need true dragon's milk to grow big and strong. 

Or something along those lines. 

Rhaena herself figured when her time came, she'd feel much the same way about it. She knew it to be common practice for women of nobility like themselves to allow nursemaids to feed and all but raise their children for them. But that was not truly the Targaryen way, as Rhaena knew it, most Targaryen women kept their babes close and nursed them themselves. At least those were the examples of Targaryen women Rhaena knew of, her birth mother Laena had, her current mother Rhaenyra had, and even grandmother Rhaenys said she'd done the same herself. 

In either case, Rhaena was certain her very devout cultured husband would hate to have his very purebred Valyrian babe nursed by anyone other than Rhaena herself. Which was a thought that made her smile just a bit. 

"And what brings you by, dear sister," Baela's voice drifted easily, cutting through Rhaena's own thoughts as she watched her sister seat herself on the edge of her own bed. 

"Good afternoon to you as well," Rhaena smiled, watching as her little nephew immediately began to twist and wriggle in his mother's hold just because he heard Rhaena's voice. Rhaena took that as her sign to sit beside Baela, without a word, Baela giggled at the eagerness in her son's desire to be held by his aunt. 

Once she'd taken her nephew from her sister, she pressed a kiss against his soft chocolate brown curls before she lifted him up to her face. Making him giggle sweetly as she nudged her nose against his, pressing more kisses against his pudgy cheeks. He was so soft and little, happily bouncing in her arms. Aethan really did remind Rhaena of her little brother Vis when he'd been this age. Apart from Aethan's clear inheritance of Jace's brown coloured hair, Rhaena was most certain a resemblance could be seen.

He truly was the perfect mix of Baela and Jace. His little face held so much of Baela in it, from his pale violet eyes to his little rounded nose. Even the shape of his face held a closer resemblance to Baela's own than Jace's. But it was in his little smile, where Rhaena was certain Jace's genes shined through. So cheeky and excitable, it screamed of Jace's own bright grins. With his pale cinnamon brown skin, and soft brown curls. Rhaena was not sure how Baela ever bared to put him down or part with him, even for just a moment. 

He was just far too precious. 

Baela herself, had stood to readjust her breasts back into her deep burgundy gown, "I'm sure you've come for more than a simple visit, sister," her look said it all, she'd always been able to see right through Rhaena no matter the facade she wore. 

Cuddling Aethan close in her arms, cooing at him for just a bit before she finally sighed a smile, "okay…okay, fine, it's about… married life ." 

"Ooooo and what has Aemond done," Baela all but eagerly jumped, scuttling back over to the bed to take Aethan from Rhaena's arms so she could place him in his bassinet. He'd whined for only a few minutes, but once Baela kissed him and placed his favourite Meraxes stuffy in his arms…he'd happily forgotten about his woes. Once she was sure her babe no longer required her immediate attention, she sprung herself back onto the bed and crossed her legs enthusiastically, "Jace shouldn't be back for at least an hour, I'll call for tea and you will tell me everything!"

And just like that Rhaena found herself explaining the events of this morning to her sister over tea and pastries. They'd resituated themselves in the common era, sat amongst the sofas and chaise lounges. With Aethan's bassinet moved closely beside them.

When the tea had finally arrived, they were informed Helaena would be joining them shortly after dropping her twins off for their lessons. It was because of that, that Rhaena hoped to move this topic along speedily.

Before sweet Helaena could risk walking in on a conversation solely based on describing her younger brother's fucking habits .

"Oh you sweet summer child," Baela had laughed leaning back in her seat with a lemon tart in hand.

"We were literally born in the Spring," Rhaena deadpanned, knowing exactly what her sister meant, but choosing not to rise to it. 

Baela only rolled her eyes and continued to chuckle as she sipped her spiced tea, "the point remains, you actually choked ! An hour of intense lovemaking and you cowed to his questioning, he had no need to know about your stint with Dalton."

"It was more than simple lovemaking ," Rhaena's cheeks burned, she'd already explained herself but the memory of those events still made her body quake, "it lasted for more than an hour, it was nearly two! And you can't say it like that, you have no idea how skilled he is…or how… large . There was no way to succeed in that position," she pouted, quickly stuffing several custard tarts into her mouth. 

But Baela's widened eyes told her she'd already said too much. 

"Skilled and large, is he?" Baela smirked, her violet eyes twinkled as she squinted knowingly, edging towards the answer she wanted her younger sister to admit to. 

"Baela, stop," Rhaena whined, her cheeks burning something fierce, she didn't have to see herself in the mirror to know they must've shifted and now burned a deep rosy tone. 

"He's massive isn't he! I knew it, that dramatic strut he always does-" Baela grinned,

Rhaena nearly wanted to sink into the sofa she was seated on, choking out, "okay! Yes it is, his cock is huge, now can we focus on the issue at hand…" 

"To be fair I may have forgotten the issue entirely," Baela giggled, leaning back in her seat, "I mean I have always thought Jace's cock to be of a decent size, but I would not go as far as to call it massive . It feels incredible and I can't actually fit it into my mouth, so it is of a size ."

For a split second the image of Baela on her knees for Jace flashed into Rhaena's mind, just as quickly she tried to shake the image away, "I don't think I'm too keen on hearing about Jace's cock, Baels" 

At that Baela threw a pillow at Rhaena's, but she was able to dodge the projectile. The two girls bursting into a fit of giggles, soon enough Rhaena moved to sit beside her sister. Placing her tea cup on the small table in front of them, before she turned to face her, "but truly, sister, you must tell me. What do you do when Jace is being less than…favourable?" 

"I can’t say Jace has ever edged me along as such…at least not successfully, and certainly not for an hour’s length of time. But it's not a science, dear sister. You have options, you could always simply deny him sex later, make a game of it. A punishment ," Baela had said it so nonchalantly it nearly sounded like a jest, shrugging her shoulders as if it was the most simple solution of all, "you've done it before, haven't you? Like that time you bound him to your bed, just retake the control. Or get revenge , we already know how he loves to worship you." 

It was surely not that simple. 

Rhaena's brows furrowed as she crossed her arms, "yes well…I cannot simply deny him. It’s been so much harder lately, I can’t explain it…but it seems all I ever want is to be fucked by him. Besides, I'm not entirely certain how I even managed to successfully punish him before. I'm sure I caught him in a very oddly submissive mood. The control in this relationship…it's more like a pendulum, it sways, sometimes I'm in possession of it and sometimes he is." 

Placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, Baela's lips spread into another smart smirk, "dear sister, that sounds remarkably similar to a symptom I had when I was-”

“I’m not…at least I don’t think I am,” Rhaena quickly cut her off, it was by reflex, but if Baela’s only inkling that Rhaena was with child was the fact that she was craving her husbands physical company more than ever…then it didn’t seem like enough proof.

Baela only raised her hands in defeat, “in either case, you’re thinking too hard on this matter. You’re doing that hyper-focus thing again. It’s just sex, and you’re only stressed over it because he left you unsatisfied. When he returns this evening, pounce on him. Aemond is only obsessed with you, and men are almost always in the mood anyhow. I'm certain you can manage. Just try not to get hypnotized by any pretty words or his massive cock, and you can do it." 

Rhaena had no real response for…well any of that, folding her lips before she bit back a smile. 

It was then that Helaena knocked and entered the room, "who's massive cock is so hypnotizing?" 

Oh Gods.

As Helaena sat across from them, Baela made to call for a fresh pot of tea, but as she passed by Helaena, she spoke up brightly, "we're just discussing our husbands appendages ." 

"Oh!" Helaena's sweet voice peaked in a high tone, "then you're speaking of Aemond's," 

Oh GODS. 

Quickly Rhaena sat up straight, worry-lines painting her face, "we don't have to continue speaking on such things…" 

How and why did Helaena know of Aemond's cock size? 

And why was she comfortable speaking about it? 

"No, it sounds fun! I've personally always thought Aegon's to be a bit left leaning, a decent size I suppose…but it bends ," she'd said it so matter-of-factly, using her index finger as a prop for her description, bending it over to show both girls what she'd meant. Baela was in bits over it, half bent over at the idea of their ever flirty cousin sporting a rather bent cock. 

Rhaena herself choked back a giggle as well, and that's when Helaena joined in their giggles, "is that not normal?" She smiled innocently. 

But Baela beat Rhaena to it, "NO! GODS, I can't wait to rub this in his face! All his mockery about Jace's cock and his ability to please when we were to wed, all the while-" 

"Baels! You can't," Rhaena snickered but oh how she tried to sound reprimanding, "it's a very private part of his body, you can't go around announcing your knowledge of it to him or anyone else," 

"Oh no, this is information I plan to keep at the ready and use when necessary. Aegon and his crooked cock, and your husband, with his incredibly massive one. How does it actually fit anywhere?" Baela laughed even harder, her cheeks were a deep rosy shade as well now. 

Helaena really seemed to beam in their company, "I'd assume it fits quite well, he was never happy when he used to return from the Street Of Silk . But since he's married you, Rhaena, and been only with you. He seems far more satisfied, far more happy." 

When Rhaena initially came for marital advice…this was not what she thought she'd receive.

Smiling softly, she couldn't help but enjoy the warmth of the room. 

In another world, they wouldn't have been able to sit together like this, like the sisters and cousins that they were. They would not have been allowed such a familial relationship. 

"Rhae, my dear. The Gods have clearly blessed you with one magical pussy," Baela's bright smile was so infectious, Rhaena couldn't help but smile wider herself. 

It was moments like these that made her glad they'd succeeded in thwarting the war that could have been.

That is until she felt her stomach flip, nausea wracking through her body in an instant…and in a matter of seconds she was throwing up the contents of their tea and pastries. 

☾

All the while the words sounded muddled, muffled and gargled as if Rhaena sat below a pool of crystal clear water.

"It would seem Princess Rhaena is two, possibly three moons along," Maester Gerardys nodded towards Rhaena's mother, Queen Rhaenyra and her Good-mother, former-Queen Alicent. 

Oh Gods.

Baela had been right!

"She is indeed with child," he concluded with a warm smile, collecting his equipment, vials and alike. Her mother and Good-mother gave him thanks before he bowed accordingly as he exited the room. 

Baela and Helaena stood on either side of Rhaena, holding both her hands for both moral and physical support. Baela was giddy, all smiles and nearly jumping at the news of being correct in her assumption and at the fact that she would soon become an aunt. Helaena's joy was far more tempered and gentle, she seemed to be waiting to read the room or waiting for Rhaena's own response to gauge her own. 

And Rhaena…well she wasn't sure how to feel. 

She was excited…happy…swelling with pride and joy. She loved children, she loved little babes…and she was truly excited to have one of her own. One created from love, one that would be both hers and Aemond’s. 

She had wanted this.

But somehow she was still…shocked. 

She remembered feeling quite ill a few moons ago, on the flight over to King’s Landing. She could recall her breasts feeling sore this morning…and she was being honest with herself…they’d been sore nearly two weeks prior as well. 

And then she was ill.

And only now was it obvious to all that she was with child. 

If she was already two or three moons along…she'd been carrying this child the whole time she’d been in the Red Keep.

If she tried to match back the math of it all…there was a strong possibility that Aemond could have impregnated her as far back as during the moon they'd been engaged or possibly even their wedding night. 

The two older women exchanged knowing looks, lips threatening to turn upwards beyond just motherly smiles. All while Rhaena watched them with a still rather stunned expression painted on her face. She wasn't truly focused on them at the moment.

The echoing words 'she is indeed with child' just kept ringing in her ears. 

It had finally happened.

He’d officially fucked a child into her. 

This truly was all Aemond's doing. 

Well of course it was.

But of course she was with child, with the amount of times they'd made love regularly, how could she not be by now. 

It was nearly idiotic of her to even think a Maester necessary at all. The signs should've been enough…how did she miss the signs.

Well either way, she supposed it was good to be certain now.

"My darling daughter, how tremendous!," Rhaenyra had brought her into a warm motherly embrace, much like she usually did. The honey jasmine scent that always coated her aunt made her feel as cozy as she had when she was still a child. Though Rhaenyra had added a cheeky whisper, "I do believe we were all expecting this one, given how often you and Aemond seem to always disappear together." 

The comment had made Rhaena's cheeks burn a rosy pink against her tawny skin, true as it was, the naive part of Rhaena had hoped her mother hadn't truly noticed. For if her mother knew it…then her father most likely noticed it as well. 

And apart from that Wedding day situation…Rhaena hoped to have become far more discreet.

But if they hadn’t been as discreet as she thought they were…and her father did know…truly a mortifying thought. .

Rhaena bit her lip nervously smoothing the skirts of her gown, tucking a stray silver curl behind her ear. She desperately hoped her nerves were not as plain on her face as she felt them all throughout her. 

As her mother pulled away, her Good-mother stepped in to embrace her as well, the now widowed Lady Alicent smiled brightly, "I'm so very happy for you both, sweet girl. I'm certain Aemond will find this news quite joyful." 

Aemond . 

Yes…Aemond, her husband Aemond, yes, right...she had to tell him. 

And to think she had originally planned on enacting her punishment or revenge this evening…now she'd have shove those bittering feelings aside in light of this news.  

For surely she couldn't ask her mothers to do this for her. 

"Certainly, my husband…I'm so very eager to share this wonderful news," Rhaena smiled primly, "would it be quite alright if I retired to my chambers for a bit, I'm just a tad bit tired," both mothers nodded eagerly. 

So with slight courtesies, Rhaena left on deft feet.

She wanted to kill him.

She also wanted to run and jump into his arms and kiss him soundly, so clearly her head was a mix of jumbled up feelings and thoughts. 

"Rhae!" Baela called out after her, running up to her, she pulled Rhaena into a tight hug, "I am very happy and excited for you, and you should be too! I know how much you've wanted this, even if you haven't been as loud about it as I was when I heard my news. But I do understand, this news isn't all joy and happiness, and should you find any part of this too overwhelming or frightening…you will come to me, yes? For I had those feelings too, I know what fears may form." 

Rhaena lingered on her elder sister's words for only a moment before she realized what fears she'd been implying. 

And truth be told those thoughts hadn't wormed their way into her mind as of yet, but they were beginning to now.. 

Their birth mother had died trying to birth her last child. So had their aunt Aemma, and grandmother Alyssa…so many Targaryen women had died this way. 

Childbirth was a frightening business, and Rhaena did not wish to perish from it.

But Rhaena didn't wish to dwell on that dark corner of her mind just yet, as Baela had mentioned…she had wanted this. 

And she was happy.

She couldn't entirely deny the warmth that had filled her with this knowledge that now...she was with child. 

Aemond's child. 

A little babe that would be from both of them. Loved and cherished with everything they had. She hoped for a little boy, she imagined floppy loose curls much like Luke had as a child, only they'd be silver or a pale milky blonde like Aemond's own. She imagined shades of violet eyes or maybe even pale indigo ones. Chubby cheeks but still angular like his father's. 

She could see him so clearly, running after them on tiny little chubby legs. Happily strapped to Aemond as he would take their son on flights atop Vhagar. 

It would seem the good clearly outweighed the bad. 

And she could look at it another way, for as apprehensive as her father may have been about wedding her to Aemond, he knew her happiness outweighed his concerns. And she knew once she brought forth his first grandchild, he'd be nothing but happy and proud.

There would be many positives with the birth of this babe. 

So Rhaena would focus on them. 

Hugging her sister back, she stayed in the warm embrace, basking in the safety she felt from her before she softly sighed, "thank you, sister."

☾

That evening Rhaena took supper with the rest of her family. Baela spent the entire meal snickering whenever Aegon was mentioned and it only increased when he finally sat down to join them. She kept making subtle jabs at him, which definitely gave her the desired effect she wanted when he grew more irritated.

But it would be thanks to her whispering the words crooked cock aloud, that was when Rhaena couldn't help but join in on the muffled laughter as well. Thankfully neither of the mothers had heard them or at least they were pretending not to have, immersed in their own conversation. All while Jace and Luke kept leaning in to try and understand the joke. 

Joff had caught wind of it and all but nearly yelled out, "who has a crooked cock!?" 

Jace had thankfully managed to clap a hand over his younger brother's mouth just in time to muffle out the cock part of his question, but by then Baela and Rhaena had erupted in a fit of laughter. 

By the end of their meal, Aegon sunk deeper into his chair glaring at both sisters, whispering on about how “the shape doesn’t matter, it’s all about the man’s skilled abilities with it

The remark only made Rhaena and Baela laugh harder, Helaena had even giggled at his response.  

It was truly a mess.

After supper, Rhaena had taken to playing with her younger brothers, Aeggie and Vis. She hadn't seen them for most of the day, and seeing how excited they were to play Conquerors with her, she knew that was a mistake that needed to be rectified. In all honesty she'd missed her brothers, Aeggie's dramatic stories that were nothing but the most outlandish tales. She missed Vis' little gleeful giggles that were just about the cutest sound she'd ever known. They were playing in Rhaenyra's Queen chambers, and soon enough Joff had found his way in. Barreling over, claiming he wished to be Orys Baratheon in their game. 

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera had joined them later as well, while Helaena sat with little Aethan and Maelor as they were still too young to join the larger kids just yet. Baela and Jace had sat in another called council meeting that evening, it wasn't a long one. But by the time they'd returned, all the children had been lying on the floor exhausted, huddled around Rhaena as if she was the sole core of warmth that all the babes wished to cuddle into. Vis had literally crawled on top of her, just to lay his little head on her chest, his words when he'd done that had been "it's my spot! I called it!"

Rhaena had only giggled, patting her little brothers back, for she couldn't possibly deny his impassioned cry. Aeggie curled himself in beside her, while Joff, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera had curled in on her other side. 

"How you manage to work them all around your little finger, I'll never know," Rhaenyra smiled at the sight of nearly all her children together in one place, "come little ones, it's time for bed." 

She was met with a chorus of little whines and cries, but ultimately they would listen once she gave them a hint of her Queenly Stoney gaze. It seemed nothing pressing had occurred this night, as Rhaenyra picked up little Vis, and held Aeggie's hand to lead them towards their chambers. Helaena would hand Aethan to Jace, as she too led her children out of the rooms. 

As Rhaena straightened her attire out, and checked to see if her hair had been too mussed, she heard two very distincts roars in the distance. 

One that shrieked and chittered, piercing and chilling, she'd known that sound like her deepest memories, a sound she'd heard her entire life, her entire childhood…it was Caraxes, which meant her father was inbound.

The other sound had been a far deeper rumble, mythical and striking, it shredded the sound waves around her. She knew this sound as well of course…for in a way it had always reminded her of home, of Pentos…of the ocean…of her birth mother. But now it held all new memories, mixed in with the old, it spoke of heightened feelings and burning pleasure…the sound that could only speak for Vhagar. 

And her husband. 

They'd flown over The Keep, she could see them from the main halls arched windows. 

They'd be here soon enough…something that made Rhaena's heart beat rapidly within her chest. 

Maybe she could prologue the moment, or she could try to. Without truly thinking of a plan, Rhaena found her legs moving once again, she found herself running to the library. Itching to hide away in the dark shaded room full of books and scrolls, she could bury her nose in a book and calm herself enough to think clearly. 

So did just that, she pulled several books from the shelves and plopped herself down on her favourite chaise lounge chair that faced the burning hearth. She peacefully turned the pages on one of her favourite poetry works, however long she'd spent there she could not say. 

But her attention had snapped up when she heard the library door slam open, with rather large agitating steps, furiously harsh clicking boots on stone tiles floors. 

"Everyone out!" He roared, forcing every other Maester, servant or Lord to bolt from the area. 

Her dragon had found her. 

"Nyke gīmigon ao sagon isse kesīr, zaldrītsos!" I know you're in here, little dragon, he called out from the other end of the library. Rhaena's body stilled at the sound, his menacing yet smooth tone carried an edge, and it was that edge that reluctant as she was to acknowledge it now…made her blood sing with excitement. 

It aroused her.

He was stalking the winding paths of the bookshelves like a truly irate dragon, he knew exactly where she'd be and Rhaena knew it as well. She wasn't going to run or anything so dramatic, she merely waited, keeping her book open, pretending as if she could possibly remember what line she'd been reading to begin with. 

She heard the moment his steps halted, she could see his form standing right before her from the underline of her book.

Stand your ground , she muttered in her head. 

You've done it before, what's different about it now. 

She could hear his heavy breathing, she didn't need to glance up at him to see the sneering look he most likely had on his face. 

Though…to be fair, she couldn't say she understood why he'd had it. He had nothing to be upset about, surely he wasn't truly upset that she hadn't spent the last few hours waiting naked and ready for him in their bed. 

She'd only made a jest then and she was certain he knew that. 

And he couldn't possibly still be upset over Dalton Greyjoy's comments.

Could he…no…well…maybe…but no. 

Her brows had furrowed deeply at a possible realization, maybe something occurred on Dragonstone with her father? 

He did spend nearly the entire day alone with Daemon Targaryen, with no other family member present, it's honestly a miracle they both managed to return at all. Knowing them, they probably spent the day arguing…that was for certain.

But if he was upset over that…it wasn't her doing that put him in that situation. 

And seeing how he'd left her without what she wanted…well maybe she could toy with him just a bit.

So Rhaena sighed softly, placing the book in her hands down on her lap, tilting her head up and gazing at him with an annoyingly sweet innocent expression. 

Just to get under his skin…just because she could. 

And she'd been right of course, his face held a scowl and it only deepened at the sight of her smile. He twisted his lips before he gritted out the words, "why are you avoiding me?" 

"I'm certainly doing a rather terrible job of that, if you found me so quickly," she kept her voice light and pretty, something she knew would only annoy him further, "clearly I'm not avoiding you, my love."  

"Then why…weren't you in our chambers? It's late," he all but growled, stepping closer. He was clearly building up to something, but for once Rhaena…couldn't be sure what he was building up to. 

So she sat up, straightening her shoulders, "it's not that late, so I'm perfectly fine to spend my time here," 

"It's not safe ," he bit off.

"Aemond-" Rhaena nearly rolled her eyes with a sigh, "Ser Erryk is just outside those doors, I'm fine." 

As far as she knew, Maegor's tunnels did reach the royal library…or did they…

Aemond moved several steps closer, towering over her, his arms placed on either side of her, his hands gripping into the cushioned back of her lounge chair. If he wanted her complete unadulterated attention, then he certainly had it now. 

"Just because fucking Criston Cole is dead does not mean my grandfather doesn't have more rats at his command, this castle isn't safe, you and I both know there are ways to sneek in to almost every room of importance," he gritted in a low voice, his jaw was clenched so tightly, she could see his jaw muscles tightly flexing, "especially now…especially in your… condition ." 

Oh fucking Gods. 

Well his rage was most justified now. 

In fact it was quite justified otherwise, seeing as Rhaena had done her best not to think about Criston Cole or any other possible plots Otto Hightower might be crafting away in Old Town. 

But… condition …he knew!? 

Who told him!? 

Laying her head back against the lounge back, she peered up into his eye, "...who told you?" Her voice had come out as little more than a gasping whisper. 

"It should have been you," Aemond sneered, "instead I heard it from the eager pup Lucerys in the training yard." 

Fuck fuck, fucking hells. 

And who told Luke?! Rhaena certainly hadn't…if she knew Baela, and she knew her sister better than anyone, then she'd probably let the news slip to Jace and from Jace to Luke was an easy line probability. 

Knowing Luke, her little wholesome brother, he probably thought he was simply congratulating his uncle…little did he know. 

Even so, Rhaena knew she could not cow so easily, "well...I'm certain Luke meant well, though I wish he'd at least waited a day before congratulating you."

Aemond scoffed at that.

But Rhaena remained undeterred, "in either case, if Luke found you in the training yard…before you entered the castle…I would have never reached you with the news first. Now if you had returned sooner-"

"That was out of my hands," he quickly responded, beginning to back off, he stepped around her, his gaze drowning in the hearth for a moment before he narrowed it back on her.  

With a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms and levelled her own gaze at him, "this was out of my hands as well then, sweet husband."  

He hadn't responded to that, only grunting at her use of the words sweet husband. Though it wasn't lost on her, the way he'd already begun stepping towards her. 

Slowly uncrossing her arms as his eye traced the area of her stomach, he kneeled himself down before her, cautiously placing his hand upon her belly. 

As if he thought she'd bite him, bark at him not to touch her or something. Two things she would of course never do, but he was always so cautious…seemingly waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. 

So when she didn't flinch or edge away from him, when she all but leaned into his soft touch, she watched as his hardened expression softened. His eye gazing upon her stomach so tenderly, a true sense of awe washing over him even though her belly hadn't exactly begun to show as of yet. All the while grumbling about how he wished he'd been present to hear the news when she had . 

Now that seemed more inline with the man she knew she married. 

All the same, she couldn't help but smile at him genuinely. All of the little idiosyncrasies that made her Prince who he was…even in this moment, it really made it rather difficult to remain annoyed with him. 

How managed to look so fearsome while simultaneously acting like a kicked puppy , Rhaena couldn't say. But it was both incredibly infuriating while also being rather endearing all at once. 

A sentiment she'd never be able to explain to anyone else. 

Save for maybe her mother, the fact that Rhaena had chosen to wed a man who was very much like her own father…Rhaenyra might be the only one in the world who could understand the duality of a man like this. 

The intoxicating edge, the biting kind of all-consuming love one could only receive from a Targaryen man. 

Flexing her fingers and then clenching, whatever she initially planned on doing or saying this evening had slipped from her mind completely. She lost that fight now in the face of Aemond's tenderness. 

Truthfully, all of the insignificant pettiness paled in comparison to the fact that she now had a child growing within her. And now they both knew it…there was a little babe forming inside of her. 

Their little babe. 

So ultimately, she'd sighed and simply placed her hand over his against her stomach. 

Catching his eye almost immediately, making her heart soften even more. The deep indigo hue of his eye was too dark to truly see in the dim light of the library, but his expression was enough to make her want to curl up in his arms, rest in his embrace and simply breathe him in.

"You were ill…nearly two moons ago, the day we flew to the Keep,” his low muttering voice had pulled from her whatever daydreaming haze she’d entered, his eye had lowered, his focus returning to her stomach, “the maesters should have been able to tell by then...that you were already with child." 

"I suppose it was too early to tell…remember, the tests then were inconclusive. But I supposed it does not really matter. We know for certain now," she'd spoken softly, her free hand reaching for his cheek. As if she felt the need to reassure him and maybe she did. His expression read between the lines of utter annoyance and delicate happiness…but try as she might to read the language that she often thought herself quite fluent in…in this moment it just seemed safer to ask him. Caressing her thumb along his scarred cheek, she bit her lip slightly before speaking, “yn iksā biare, kessa? ao ȳdra daor jurnegon ziry," but you are happy, yes? You don't look it.

At that his eye snapped up to hers, "hen rhinka! Skoro syt would ao epagon?" Of course! Why would you ask? His voice had picked up that growling edge once again.

With a light smirk, Rhaena tilted her head to the side playfully, "hae vestan, ñuha zaldrīzes. Ao ȳdra daor jurnegon ziry. Nyke sepār jaelagon naejot sagon drēje" like I said, my dragon. You don't look it. I just want to be sure.

It started in his eye, the harsh dark Indigo colour softened just rather instantly, all before his face evened out, and his lips ticked up, "you shouldn't tease me now, I still have a good amount of pent up energy from this morning," 

"I think we both do. And I think I know exactly who's fault is that," Rhaena bit back a playful grin, this hadn’t been how she planned to work her way around to this topic. But either way she was glad they’d managed to maneuver their way to it. That sparking fire hadn’t left her, it roared all day long, it simmered a bit…but it felt as if he’d brought it back to its full heat. Especially with the way he was looking at her now, like as if she were a meal to be devoured. 

As Aemond pulled himself higher on the chaise, he leaned himself over her, tilting her chin up enough for his lips to ghost over hers, “I am…very happy, my little wife. I‘ve wanted this with you…for a very long time.”

Rhaena was sure she knew that, from the very first night he stole away into her chambers some moons ago now. That night when he’d told her just how much he’d wanted her. How he’d secure her hand easily once he’d fucked a child into her . She’d gasped and giggled, but he’d been completely serious…every single time they’d ever lain together…he’d wanted this.

And she did too.

The true reality of it was so odd, so massive, so beyond everything. 

“Tell me what you want," Aemond whispered against her lips, trailing kisses down her neck, “I wish to please my Princess tonight.” 

At that Rhaena hummed happily, biting back a smile as her hands travelled up along his hips, "take me to bed then, I wish to ride my dragon." 

She felt the moment Aemond grinned against her skin, pulling up enough to draw her lips to his, "as you wish." 

-

P.S. LMAO to that edging scene cause I've wanted to write that for MONTHS, I hope it delivered! Also Rhaena, Baela and Helaena all comparing their husbands dick sized, hilarious, I hope!

But Rhaena IS officially pregnant!!! Let the preggo arc commence!!!!