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just received +25 psychic damage by relating song lyrics to the treatment of demigods in pjo
#coffins by misterwives#when i tell yall i made myself nauseous#i heard the lyrics “how do you soften the thought of carrying coffins? we were so alive only to see us wither and die” and i thought of#lester carrying jasons coffin to camp jupiter#this entire song feels like demigods who once had faith in the gods. but just can't anymore after being used for so long#god what i could do if i could edit videos still#lyrics “your ego swallowed you and from there you fled so far away could not find your way back”#SO lester coded#OH FUCK IT GETS WORSE#“i shook your ears tried to make you hear my call but you were long gone. no hope in a sunless dawn”#tell me thats not piper when shes holding jasons body#oh my GOD I SHOULD BE SLEEPING RN BUT SDJFKSLNFJSKLNJK im inflicting the damage on myself at this point#trials of apollo#the burning maze#toa spoilers#tbm spoilers#jason grace#lester papadopoulos#piper mclean#percy jackson#pjo#oh my GOD upon further analysis#it could also be very much thalia @ luke coded#about his corruption and turning his back on demigods#ohhhhhh this song is going to be the death of me
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He’d barely been home an hour when he got a call from the Curascantii authorities. Luke idly wondered what could be so dire to the police that they’d not only need a Jedi, but the Grand Jedi Master.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your day Grand Master Skywalker, but there is an urgent matter that needs you and your wife’s attention.”
Both of them? That was strange. The officer looked nervous as well. He didn’t even need the Force to see their distress.
“could you explain?”
“A teenager crashed into a minor government building in a modified X-wing two days ago, covered in someone else’s blood and injured.” They explained. “While normally this would remain as internal affairs, several bizzare elements require a jedi’s expertise. We felt it was best to call you first.”
“And why is that? What details would lead you to call me and not Jacen, or another Jedi?”
He crossed his arms. He hadn’t called Mara in yet, he wanted to know the full situation before he bothered her. Though the force pulled at him as he listened. He knew this wasn’t a waste of his time at least.
“Well firstly, the X-wings model, year and serial number match yours. And yet you’ve not announced a theft, and it can be easily seen parked outside your domicile in cam footage.” They began. “And the blood the girl is covered in is a perfect match to Han solo, and yet when checking his status he seems perfectly unharmed. He seemed to think our call to check on him was a prank.”
Luke nodded for them to continue. Could it be an issue with clones? And yet that wouldn’t explain the x-wing. Or why they met a girl covered in a dead clones blood instead of the clone. Meanwhile, the officer continued.
“Besides that, there was an unknown caustic substance on her clothing. We’ve collected it but can find nothing similar,” They said. “And the girl has no records whatsoever, and no sign that any were wiped by splicers. Not even a birth certificate. When we finally chose to run a paternity test, it was a match for yourself and Mara Jade. When questioned about this, the girl refused to give so much as a name. She also refused pain killers or any medical attention for what seem to be extensive wounds.”
“And this paternity test is why you need both myself and my wife.”
“Yes sir. Especially because she is a minor, we hope your presence will at least convince her to submit to medical treatment, if not to give us more information.” They explained, “she has been in custody for two days sir, and while there doesn’t seem to be an immediate threat, the mystery of her existence is beyond our capability to investigate.”
“Understood, I’ll be there shortly.”
#luke skywalker#star wars eu#star wars legends#I haven't read the eu books in years#but this is how I imagine book Luke would meet Kida#because obviously it's gonna be a cross universe crossover rather than a fusion#since Kida's luke turned into a Lightwarden and is now SUPER dead#lotf period#cause I want ben older and Mara alive#ffxiv#sineaters#cause the ichor#for the purpose of this#lightwardens are either slightly less infectious#or Kida figured out a way to be actually immune#not edited we die like men
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Embers of Us
summary | you plot to kill your uncle aemond and avenge your fallen brother.
paring: aemond x neice!reader
warning: kissing, p n v, very smutty oh and some angst, spoilers for s1e10
note: i haven't written smut in like a year. bare with me cus it's pretty ass.
word count: 2.8k
not edited
Gold coins fall into the rat catcher’s palm, his fingers quiver as you release the last two. The cold steel of your gaze pierces through him.
“Now leave,” you command, your voice sharp and hushed.
He nods hurriedly, retreating into the shadows from which he came. Your eyes lift to the second floor—the royal floor.
You ascend the stairs silently, each step filled with the weight of your purpose. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, as memories flood your mind—of Luke, of the war, of what was taken from your mother. The dagger beneath your cloak feels heavier with each breath.
When you reach Aemond’s door, your fingers shake as they graze the frame. Taking a sharp breath, you push it open just enough to peek inside. And there he is—Aemond Targaryen, your estranged uncle. The man that would meet his fate by the end of your dagger.
The room is bathed in the warm glow of scattered candles, their flames flickering against the stone walls. Aemond sits at a table, his back to you, his silver hair catching the light. He doesn’t turn when you slowly close the door behind you and seal the space between you.
Each step you take is measured, deliberate, as you approach. As you reach him, your hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of his silver hair. You yank his head back sharply and raise your dagger to his throat, the cold steel pressing against his skin. He hisses a breath through his teeth, unfazed.
“Niece,” Aemond murmurs, a low, cruel chuckle rumbling from his throat.
You tighten your grip on his hair, your voice taut with fury. “Uncle.”
Aemond raises his hands, a gesture of surrender. “Easy.”
Your wrist moves to swipe across his neck and then, with a swift move, he disarms you effortlessly–your blade goes clattering to the floor.
Before you can react, he’s on his feet, facing you with your own weapon pointed at your chest. You unsheathe another dagger, stepping back, trying to create distance.
His gaze locks onto yours, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Did Rhaenyra send you to do this, or are you foolish enough to act on your own?”
“My mother—your rightful queen—” you spit, your eyes burning with rage. Aemond scoffs at the words, but you press on. “—has nothing to do with this. I came for Luke.”
Something flickers in Aemond’s expression, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. His face hardens, cold and controlled. He steps slowly around the chair, voice lowering but steady.
“Luke was... a casualty of war,” he says, his tone almost detached. “War does not care for innocence. I am a soldier, and soldiers do what must be done. Blood is spilled, and it claims whoever stands in its path.”
“Casualty of war?” you seethe, your voice a mix of anguish and fury. “He was just a messenger! He wasn’t a threat to you, and yet you—” Your voice cracks, your chest tightening.
Aemond’s face hardens further, his hand drifting toward his eyepatch as if by reflex. “The war,” he snaps, “began the day I lost my eye to your brother’s blade. A debt was owed.”
Your heart pounds in your ears, your hands shaking as anger courses through you. “But his life?” you choke, your voice faltering as tears well in your eyes. “He was just a boy!” You place a hand on your chest and spit through gritted teeth. “…We had nothing to burn.”
Aemond’s gaze softens for a brief moment, the flicker of guilt in his eye is buried beneath layers of pride, but it’s there.
You steady yourself, swallowing the sob threatening to escape. With trembling hands, you tilt your chin high and raise the dagger once more, whispering, "Se iā daor." (And now, you must die.)
You plant your feet firmly and charge towards him. Aemond catches your wrist midair, but you’re ready. With your free hand, you unsheathe another hidden dagger and swipe it across his side, the blade cutting through the fabric of his clothes and into his skin. A grunt escapes his lips as he staggers back, and the two of you tumble to the ground in a fierce struggle. The cold stone presses against your bodies as you grapple, breaths heavy and ragged, hands clawing and striking.
Aemond throws a punch, but you block it just in time, your arm bracing against the blow. In the chaos of tangled limbs, your fingernails catch his face, tearing away the eyepatch.
Everything stills.
Aemond freezes, his breath hitching as your gaze falls to the scarred, hollow space where his eye once was. But instead of a void, a sapphire gleams in its place, glowing faintly in the candlelight.
For the first time in years, you see the familiar tremor that runs through him. Fractured memories of child Aemond floods your mind, the Aemond you had once comforted when no one else dared to look at him.
Your heart slows as you reach your hand out to trace the scar and the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. But just as your fingers near him, Aemond’s hand shoots out, grasping your wrist.
His grip is firm, but not harsh. He holds your hand there, inches from his face, and the tension in the air thickens, the crackling candles the only sound between you.
The memory returns again—the quiet moments after Aemond had lost his eye. When you had been the only one to ask if he was in pain. The only one to sneak past your mother and Alicent to see to him—to offer him kindness when others turned away. That boy still exists, somewhere beneath the man who hovers before you now.
Aemond’s remaining eye flickers with something unreadable. Guilt, sorrow—perhaps, buried beneath his pride. “I’m letting you live,” he murmurs. “I won’t give you or your mother the satisfaction of my death. Nor will I give my brother the pleasure of yours.”
He loosens his grip, gently releasing your wrist. The violence that once filled the room moments ago now dissipates like smoke.
You continue to lay on the cold stone floor as grief overwhelms you, your body withers as bitter tears stream down your face. Damn him. Damn him for not giving you the chance to avenge Luke.
“No,” you sob, weakly striking his chest, the blows are soft and ineffective. Aemond doesn’t stop you. “No!” you cry again, your words spilling out in a broken mantra. “No.”
Aemond watches you, his expression unreadable. But something shifts in his gaze, something softer, more fragile than before. For a fleeting moment, you think you see unshed tears glistening in his eye, but the moment passes quickly.
In an unexpected gesture, Aemond reaches down and brushes a silver strand of hair from your face. He tucks it gently behind your ear. His thumb then swipes at the wetness beneath your eyes, lingering a moment too long. His fingers ghost against your skin.
His eye lowers, tracing the curve of your lips. His thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip. You taste the faint salt from your tears. He pauses, his eye searching yours, waiting—asking without words.
More tears threaten to spill, your heart torn between bitter betrayal and the love you had buried deep within.
But agaisnt your better judgement, you allow yourself to relax.
And then his lips meet yours, soft and careful, as if there’s a possibility you’d reject him. But you won't. You exhale a quiet sigh, melting into the warmth of his touch.
The kiss holds a thousand unspoken truths. It’s not just born of passion, but of release—of grief, regret, and love. For all the war, all the bloodshed and losses, the love between you had always lingered, hidden beneath layers of denial. Now, at this moment, it rises to the surface, undeniable.
Your fingers slip into his hair, pulling gently at the roots. Aemond’s hand cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss with quiet desperation.
For this fleeting moment, the storm outside the walls, the weight of the crown, and the shattered bonds of family fade into nothing. It is just the two of you, suspended in this moment where the war; your mother’s throne, and the blood between you are now distant echoes.
Aemond breaks away from the kiss and leans back. You watch carefully as he strips his top half bare. Your eyes roam over every inch of his chiseled form, taking in the smooth curve of his waist and the firm lines that make up his frame. Your gaze lingers on the wound of your doing. It sits right above his pelvis, off to the side. It's not a deep cut, but it left specks of blood on his pale skin.
Your fingers tremble as they reach for the strings of your top. Taking a shallow breath, you begin to remove your outer clothing. Aemond senses your anticipation and helps you out of your trousers. His touch sends shivers down your bare skin, as your naked form is fully revealed for his eyes to bare.
Aemond slots himself between your legs and peppers kisses across your face, neck, chest, and abdomen. His silver hair tickling your skin as he continues downward. He slides his face in between your thighs, leaving soft kisses on either side.
He glances up at you for approval once more. Your cheeks flush and you give a quick nod before laying back down completely.
Aemond delicately parts your legs, his rough calloused hands gently brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs. A low moan escapes your lips as his skilled fingers spread you apart. He begins to massage and tease at your bud. Your back arches in pleasure as Aemond flattens his tongue and slowly licks you up in a long, sensual strip.
"Gods," you mutter breathlessly.
Both of your hands are in his hair now, tight and pushing him deeper into your heat.
Aemond is undoubtedly skilled. You can't help but feel a twinge of envy as you wonder if some woman from his past, maybe someone from his court, had taught him these tricks. He moans against you and a rush heat of heat glides up your body. Your eyes roll back, as he continues to devou you like you’re the last meal on earth.
You move a peice of silver out of his face—you want to see everything.
Your fingers tangle in Aemond's hair once more as waves of pleasure course through your body.
His tongue moves with expert precision, alternating between teasing flicks and long, languid strokes. Your hips buck involuntarily, pressing yourself closer to his eager mouth.
His hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he increases his pace. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing and muffled moans. You feel the familiar tension building deep within your belly, threatening to overflow at any moment.
Aemond reaches towards your breast, his hand massaging the mound. His fingers pinching and twisting at your hardened nipple. His tongue swirls and darts in and out of your wet heat, in perfect unison with his fingers. “Aemond.”
Just as you approach the precipice, Aemond pulls away, leaving you gasping and desperate for release. His mismatched eyes, one sapphire gem and one his familiar ocean blue, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.
His lips glisten in the light with your slit.
You watch as he stands tall and wrangles himself out of his trouser. Now, completely baring himself to you as you do him. Aemond's manhood is long and thick, standing with attention and glistening with a bead of precum at the tip. You note the thick veins along his shaft. Your mouth waters at the thought of tasting him.
You chew on your lips in anticipation as Aemond brings himself back down to your level and hovers above your face. You both don’t pay any mind to your centers brushing against one another as he situates himself between your legs. Both of you are too caught in each other’s gaze.
Instinctively, your fingers reach up again to trace the scar across his eye—the one that defines so much of who he is now.
This time, he allows it. His face melts into your outstretched palm, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb brushes the sensitive area near the socket of his lost eye.
His hair falls like a sheer veil, cloaking the two of you. “iksā gevie” You say the words so softly it’s a mere whisper. (You’re beautiful.)
Aemond's eye soften and he gently removes your hand from his face.
But instead of letting go, he lifts your wrist to his lips and kisses the thin skin there. His lips linger for a moment before he lowers your hand back down to rest at your side. Aemond grabs himself between you both and positions himself at your entrance.
You mentally and physically prepare yourself for what is about to happen, knowing it is an act of betrayal. Not only to your family, but to yourself.
Slowly, he enters you with the tip of his cock, causing a simultaneous moan from the both of you. Him from feeling the warmth of your walls and you from the pleasurable intrusion. You watch as his hips move, his skin glistening with sweat as he sinks deeper into you. You watch the intensity in his gaze as he looks down at where you both meet, his face contorted with raw desire.
Your legs spread wider when your body’s are fully flushed. The sensation of being so full and heavy of Aemond is heavenly.
You cry out in bliss as he begins to move inside you. His hips rolling out and snapping into your cunt.
The rhythm of Aemond's thrusts are deliberate and powerful, each one rolling and snapping with increasing force. You feel the tension building within you, a fire that is threatening to consume you both. Your chest bounces as he growls into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.
Your legs and hands cling around him, trying to hold on as his pace quickens. Your fingers claw into his back, leaving red marks in their wake. Aemond sucks at the salty flesh on the curve of your neck, biting down hard before meekly replacing his tongue and lips to ease the pain.
"sīr vok," he whispers into the shell of your ear in between thrusts, his voice low and rough. “se mirre syt nyke.” (So perfect, all mines)
You moan in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure overtakes your senses. The world around you fades away as Aemond continues to assault your inside, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
Aemond reaches a certain depth inside you–hitting that one spot of nerves. A wave of pleasure washes over you and you cry out his name. Your back arches off the floor as you shake in ecstasy and gasp for air.
But Aemond doesn't slow down. He continues to fuck into you, through your orgasm, his grunts becoming more guttural and primal. He leans down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours . Your hands roam over his body, feeling every ripple and muscle as he brings both of you closer to the brink.
You wrap your legs tighter around him, urging him on as he pounds into you with an urgency that matches your own. Aemond buries himself between the curve of your neck, his moans loud and desperate. The familiar coil in your stomach begins to tighten once more as Aemond relentlessly drives into you.
“ivestragī ñuha—ah” You gasp at the sensitivity between your thighs. “laesi jurnegon jemome.” (let me see you). You beckon him to remove himself from your shoulder blade.
Aemond obliges and turns his face towards yours. You stare as his features twist with pleasure. How his body tenses as he reaches his own peak, his hips stuttering against yours as he spills himself inside you. You feel the warmth of his seed filling you to the brim. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. He nearly collapses on top of you, but manages to gather the strength to withdraw from your body. You both watch as your essence coats him and his own drips between your thighs.
He falls down beside you in exhaustion.
You miss the warmth of him inside you, the feeling of him being close to you.
The silence stretches, only your breathing echoing in the vast emptiness of the room, both of you lost in your own thoughts.
After what feels like an eternity, you glance over at Aemond. He lies still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his expression unreadable.
Without shifting your gaze from him, you say the words slowly, each syllable deliberate. “I’m going to kill you one day.”
It was a promise.
You expect a reaction—a sudden turn of his head, a flash of anger, perhaps even the feeling of his hand reaching for the dagger beside him, and driving it into your throat. But none of that comes.
Instead, Aemond remains as he is, his face serene, his eyes still locked on the ceiling as if it held all the answers. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.
“I know.” His words are soft and matter a fact.
You slowly turn your head, your eyes tracing the same path his do and stare at the ceiling above. The silence settles again, heavy and suffocating, but beneath it lies a quiet understanding– one neither of you are yet ready to confront.
#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond x reader#prince aemond#hotd smut#aemond smut#aemond x you#aemond one eye#house of the dragon smut#hotd#hotd aemond#x reader#aemond fic#aemond targaryen smut
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How is canon Annabeth abusive?
You want a list?
Alright!
1. She constantly hits Percy. Kicking him in the shins, elbowing him in the ribs, punching him in the gut. Not to mention the judo flip scene. Also, this is never said to be done playfully whatsoever. And it's done constantly in EVERY book.
2. She always belittles and calls him stupid. Like his plans never work. Ha, they work more than hers! Also, the parallels of her calling him Seaweed Brain, when Gabe called him Brain Boy! Like how would you feel if you have a nickname constantly degrading your worst insecurities?! All the damn time! Not to mention Thalia, who Percy was the first person who helped her after she stopped being a tree, after spending the school year with Annabeth started calling Percy Kelp Head and viewing him as dumb. Annabeth who ignored Percy all this year, and was overall just selfish and mean when they met again.
3. Annabeth is so possessive of Percy. Even before they are dating (which doesn't make it any better when they are), Annabeth doesn't let Percy be friends with Rachel. Trying to drive a wedge between the two. And Percy, literally only has Grover and Annabeth for friends. He is so alone, he needs more friends! Oh, and then with Jason she interrupts the two of them chatting and trying to get along. Also, just how she doesn't like that Percy seems to like Camp Jupiter, like he can't seem to have his own differing plans from her.
4. Tartarus. Everything about that was so bad. Like in Tartarus, whom Percy fell down to FOR HER, Annabeth brings up Rachel because in her thoughts, she needs to keep her boyfriend on his toes. Like bitch! Then, we get to how she thinks Percy is so manipulative when he talks his way to get Bob to kill his brother. Like that isn't Annabeth's number 1 tactic. She's so fucking judgemental!
And then the scene with Akhlys in Tartarus. Where yes, Percy is being scary torturing this goddess who tried to poison them to death. But she just tried to kill them! He's saving their lives! And then, Annabeth makes Percy promise her to never use those powers again, because "Somethings aren't meant to be controlled." Like do you know how useful poison-bending could be to save lives? What difference does this make from using a sword to kill monsters when all of them are trying to kill and/or eat Demigods! Not to mention, if someone is poisoned, Percy could help heal them!
Next, because of how horrible Annabeth made Percy feel for using these powers he attempts suicide. After he gets out and faces Polybotes, who controls poison, he doesn't even try to save himself and says to Jason that he deserves to die by poison for what he did! He tried to kill himself! And Annabeth never talks to Percy about this again, and instead talks to Piper who thinks Percy needs to be restrained like he's some kind of monster when he was saving them! Percy is literally the most selfless and kind person out there. And Annabeth treats him like crap! She doesn't deserve him!
5. Percy isn't allowed to have bad thoughts on Luke. Luke, who's tried to kill him repeatedly since he was twelve! And in general, this ship is so toxic and codependent right now, it's in no way healthy.
Anyways sorry for my rant, but yeah Annabeth is abusive, and it's just so concerning how people possibly in elementary school are being exposed to this being a healthy relationship, where girlfriends can hit their boyfriends, and can stop them making friends with others, because they belong to them like some sort of object.
Yeah, I just relate to Percy so much, and I don't want him to deal with another Gabe.
Edit: Okay, for anyone who likes Annabeth or Percabeth, I don't care - you do you. You can like and dislike all the characters and ships you want, just as I can. So, if you disagree with what is said, that's fine, but don't expect me to change my stance when I have already pointed out several concerning behaviors. So, like good humans, we'll just have to agree to disagree and move on with our days.
#anti annabeth#anti percabeth#anti annabeth chase#annabeth chase bashing#i hate annabeth#pjo percy#personal rant#pjo annabeth#pjo#percy jackson#percy jackson rant#percy jackson defense squad#percy jackson doesn't need annabeth#percy jackson deserves better#Just the parallels between Sally/Gabe and Percy/Annabeth#annabeth chase crit#annabeth chase is abusive#annabeth chase#I don't like her if you cannot tell#percy jackson and the olympians#Annabitch#not changing my stance on this when there are some many facts of her abusive tendencies#like the amount of times she hits him alone#and then combined with the belittling and controlling and possessive behaviors she has#yeah no#percabeth fandom is definition of toxic#percabeths dni#percabeth is the definition of a toxic relationship
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No Ordinary Life
[Sam Riordan x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: The group had almost ran out of options on what to do with Sam, but Andre had decided there was still one more option to explore. And that option, was you. (GIF credits: @heronamedhawks)
WC: 1,179
Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst
We don’t know much about Sam as of right now, but I do know I would literally die for this boy. He and Emma really deserve the world, and they fr better have their happy ending (which seems impossible given the universe they live in, but one can hope). This definitely deserves a part 2, depending how well it goes, but for now enjoy the purity that is Sam.
Edit(2023): Hey I finally made the part 2, check it out here
『••✎••』
As Sam walked down the bustling halls of Godolkin, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider. All around him, kids with extraordinary powers, kids like him, were chatting, laughing, and walking to their classes. They were able to use their gifts freely and openly, and they were respected by others for it, but Sam didn't have that luxury. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time that he did.
All he remembered was the woods, his brother, and the constant pain of being hunted.
His hand unconsciously traveled to top of his head, pulling the hoodie that Emma had lent over to him farther over his face as he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy when the hallway was completely crowded by nosy students, but he did his best. That’s all he could really do.
Emma and Marie (as he found her name to be) were by his side, protecting him for the skewing eyes of others. For the most part it worked, except it drawn more attention to her due to that odd system that Emma had acknowledged him about. A rating, whatever that was.
It was cool to know that his brother had been ranked number one, though.
If Luke was still… No, don’t think about it, Sam.
He shook his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. There was no point in dwelling on the past, and thinking about his brother wouldn’t change anything. He was gone, and Sam was left alone.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jordan, who he was still slightly confused about. He? She? They? They seemed to have been good friends with his brother and they were friendly enough, so Sam didn’t really question the matter too much.
Plus, he kinda enjoyed the subtle sarcasm that Jordan would once in a while use. It made him feel like a kid back in school. So for that, Sam was thankful.
“Dude, this has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done,” Jordan had said, turning to the guy walking besides them… Andre. Sam didn’t know what to make of him, or anyone really. He had always been so closed off from other people, that now it was almost a bit overwhelming.
But at least he had Emma, so he didn't have to worry about the social aspect too much.
Andre gave Jordan a sideways look, a small smirk on his face. He seemed pretty chill too.
“Listen, I don’t like this anymore than you do, Jordan,” Andre stated, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But with everything happening, and with Cate… this is our best option.”
“Yes, let’s bring the kid with a bounty over his head into the place where they’re all going to be looking for him. Great idea, Andre. Seriously, how did I not think of it first. Soooo smart of you, dude. Good job. I'm so glad we're friends, really I am.”
Jordan rolled their eyes, and Andre just looked away in annoyance. Then, to Sam’s dismay, an awkward silence fell over the group. Once again, Sam was struck by just how different his life was now. It was like he was suddenly thrown into another world, and he had no idea how to function in it. He was so far out of his comfort zone that he couldn’t even see the zone.
Sam glanced over to Emma, and saw her smiling encouragingly at him. He tried his best to return the gesture, but he felt like his face muscles were going to fall off if he forced them any longer.
After what seemed like hours, but really only a couple minutes, Andre halted in front of a random dorm room door, and turned to face the group. He sighed, his face set into a look of grim determination. Then, he knocked.
Three times, Sam counted. Three knocks.
The door opened almost immediately after, and the man who answered had to be the most handsome human being Sam had ever seen. He had short black hair, a sharp jaw, and a dazzling smile. It was actually kind of intimidating.
“Whadda’ want?” the man asked, his voice a rich baritone. Sam didn't know why, but it felt like the man was judging him. His eyes scanned over the group, lingering on Sam for just a second, before returning back to Andre.
Andre cleared his throat, a bit nervously, but he didn’t get a chance to speak as Jordan scoffed, shoving past the man and into the room. Emma followed, giving the man an apologetic look as she did. And thus, everyone followed, leaving the man alone and bewildered in the doorway.
Once everyone was settled inside, the man shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at Andre, his eyes burning holes through his head, but Sam didn’t pay any attention towards him anymore. All his eyes were on the strange girl in front of him, you.
You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed and a bored expression on your face. Your eyes were half lidded, and you seemed to be lost in your own little world. Andre had mentioned you, a little. Said that you were the person he had called earlier, that you would help them figure out what to do with Sam, and that you knew and could a lot of stuff. But he had never told them how gorgeous you were.
Your hair was down, and looked so soft that Sam just wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, and feel the texture. You had a cute little button nose, and a round, chubby face that was just too adorable. And your eyes were so expressive, a mixture of colors that swirled and shone and sparkled in the light.
Andre had called your attention and you snapped out of it, blinking a few times before glancing up at him. It was then that you noticed the others, and you stared at them all, wide eyed and open mouthed, but that was quickly replaced with a smile.
“Hi, Andre! Wow, you must be Jordan… Marie… and Emma? Right? Oh, and you must be the kid Andre talked about, oh my gosh. It's so nice to finally meet you all. Sorry I didn’t say anything when you came in, I was just finishing up this thing for Kota. Oh, Kota! You're still here… hi. Wait, why are you all here? You weren’t supposed to be here until 2:00, and it's only-”
You looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening even more when you realized the time. You had been talking so fast that no one had been able to get a word in edgewise, but you had managed to finish what you had to say, and it was all so rushed that it was hard to keep up.
The only thing Sam could focus on was how despite all of that rambling and mumbling, you were still keeping that bright smile that never seemed to falter. A truly happy supe? He never thought it would exist. Even Emma, as sweet and pretty as she was, tended to falsify the smiles she had. Sam only saw her real one about three times. He cherished them, of course. Every single one.
You stood up, brushing yourself off and fixing your clothes, and walked over to them. Your hand was outstretched, and your smile was radiant. Sam could practically feel the happiness radiating off of you.
You looked so innocent, so sweet and pure. He could hardly believe that you were a supe, but the fact that they were all standing here said otherwise. You had power, and you knew how to use it.
Jordan and Marie seemed to have recovered from their daze, and the two shook your hand after Andre. Marie had even introduced herself, and it ended with you in giggles, telling her that you already had known her name.
Emma was next, and she had taken your hand immediately and shook it.
Then it was just him that was left.
He stood frozen, staring down at your outstretched hand. He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, and he just knew that his hood was starting to slip.
His instincts were yelling at him, screaming at him to run. To get out of there and stay far, far away from you. From everyone.
But he couldn’t.
So, instead of fleeing, he slowly, cautiously took your hand in his. It was small, warm, and fit perfectly.
You smiled again but this time it was strictly for him, because of him, and it made his heart beat just a bit faster.
He didn’t even realize it until your smile has widened, but he had pulled down his hood, letting you see his face. He didn't understand why he did, and a part of him wanted to pull the fabric right back over his face, but it was too late now.
The damage had been done.
Sam didn’t have a chance to scrape off the dried blood off his cheeks, another result of an accidental outburst, and he could feel your eyes rake over his face, taking in every single detail.
But it wasn’t judgmental, or critical.
No, there was something else in those swirling eyes of yours, and it was then that he noticed the little flecks of gold hidden in the sea of color.
Sam was a bit embarrassed, to say the least, and he tried to pull his hand away but your grip only tightened, and he didn't have the strength to resist. He felt your hand go up his arm, unraveling the hoodie that clung to him like a second skin.
The others didn’t seem to do anything as you pulled the material above his elbow.
Your eyes roamed over the scar that stretched across his forearm, and he knew what was coming before the words even left your mouth.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at you as you asked the dreaded question, and his eyes were glued to the floor.
It was Emma who answered, her voice barely a whisper.
Sam despised the pity in your tone. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He didn't need or want anyone's pity. He was fine. Everything was fine.
The silence shattered as you took a sharp breath, but Sam couldn't bring himself to look at you. Not when he knew the look of pity in your eyes.
You released his arm, the hoodie dropping to the ground, but Sam didn't even register it. He stood there, frozen, as you slowly reached out your hand towards his face.
"Before I do anything, I want to warn you so it doesn't scare you. Is that okay with you? I just... I want to make sure you're alright. But if you don't want me to touch you, I won't. I'll respect your boundaries. Just tell me, okay?"
Sam blinked, his head tilting upwards, his eyes wide with surprise. There was no pity in your eyes. No negativity or degradation. Only a gentle concern and kindness that he had only experienced in these past few days.
Your touch was tender, and he felt a warmth spread across his face. He couldn't bring himself to deny you. So he nodded, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was still a smile, but a different kind. One he had never seen from you before. And once again, that smile was meant just for him.
Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, capturing Sam's attention. He hadn't noticed before, but the entire room was filled with interconnected lights, forming a grid-like pattern. They began to glow, pulsating and shifting with each passing moment. The light danced across the walls, creating mesmerizing shapes.
Sam was captivated by the whole process. And then, the lights suddenly stopped, freezing in place. Sam expected them to return to their normal brightness, but they grew brighter and brighter. It was then that he noticed your hands. They were no longer touching him, but rather, they hovered above him, palms facing his face. A peculiar expression settled on your face.
Sam didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have time to wonder because, in an instant, your hands transformed into light. It wasn't like beams shooting out of your palms, but rather, golden particles that flowed around your body and traveled along the lights, intensifying their brightness. Patterns began to form and move.
Sam watched in awe as the shapes transformed into pictures and scenes. The colors melted and shifted together. Light filled the room, washing away the world around him, leaving only the vibrant colors, the images, and your face.
Your face, so close to his. The smile still adorned your lips, and your eyes shone like stars, the brightest things in the room. Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted that the light was beautiful, just like you.
It was the most extraordinary sight he had ever witnessed. It was as if the sun had exploded, its light spreading across the room. The colors danced along the walls, forming vivid images. Sam saw a field, a house, a family. He saw his old friends. He saw him. His brother, Luke.
Sam's face crumpled, and a sob escaped his throat. Tears blurred his vision, but they were absorbed by the light, vanishing as soon as they fell. You remained a silent observer, watching over him as the colors gradually faded, and the world returned.
The room was as bright as before, but everything was the same. Sam could still see the concern and worry etched on your face. You reached up to wipe away his tears, but this time he flinched back, and the contact never happened. Your hands fell to your sides.
Tears welled up in your eyes, and your lips trembled, trying to hold back your emotions. But a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Andre cleared his throat, breaking the spell. Both you and Sam turned to face the others.
They were all watching, expressions of shock and confusion on their faces, except for Jordan, who wore a mask of indifference.
Andre and Emma stared at you, mouths agape, while Sam saw the tears in your eyes, the fear evident on your face.
Of what, he couldn’t tell. As of right now, there were so many things you could be scared of. With The Woods, being the thing that contains most of it all, It was hard to pinpoint one specific reason.
Then, just like before, Andre's voice cracked as he decided to interrupt Sam’s thoughts.
"What the hell was that?"
#gen v spoilers#gen v#sam riordan#the boys universe#the boys#amazon prime#sam riordan x reader#x reader#fanfic#fluff#slight fluff#slight angst#sam pov#cate dunlap#luke riordan#mentions of luke riordan#marie moreau#emma meyer#andre anderson#jordan li#gen v x reader#gen v fanfic#the boys fanfic#the boys frenchie#the boys hughie#hughie campbell#billy butcher#starlight#homelander#golden boy
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hey david! Do you have any George quotes regarding the final Vader vs Obi wan fight? Like did obi wan deliberately throw that fight and let vader kill him or did vader win the duel and obi wan did the Force ghost thing as a last resort?
Here's the quotes I could find that are relevant to the subject:
"A particular case is the confrontation between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader. You know there's something, some relationship they have to each other, 'cause they talk about meeting again ‘and now I'm going to get you’ and all this kind of stuff."
"So there's some kind of old battle going on that we don't know anything about that works amazingly well considering that all it is, is ultimately this one scene between him and Tarkin where he says, “He's here. He's come for me. And it's our destinies to meet up again. And I'm gonna handle this myself. I have to."
"This confrontation with Obi-Wan and Vader— it works just as a confrontation between the good guy and the bad guy. I mean, he’s— Obi-Wan's, at this point, the strongest good guy. He’s the one that has the most knowledge— the father figure that has taken on Luke. Then you have the bad father figure who is the evil father."
"And the subtext of this, which is that this is the culmination of a larger issue… has never really played, I think, for people. It's really just the confrontation between bad and good. Then the surprise at the end of this, is that: Vader doesn't kill him… but that he's able to join the Force, and by being one with the Force, influence things in a more powerful way than he can just being a Jedi." - A New Hope, Commentary Track, Special Edition DVD, 2004
"When he loses Ben, [Luke] freaks out. He’s depressed and all the things that you would be. But Ben has put that idea in him that things happen naturally and there’s also this other thing that’s never explained, which is that he allowed himself to be killed. He didn’t really die. He disappeared. There’s more to this than just a death. Later on in the movie, Luke hears Ben say, “Use the Force!” It mitigates that loss a little bit, because he knows Ben’s somewhere and that something’s going on." - The Star Wars Archives: 1977-1983, 2018
So there you have it.
In a destined confrontation between good and evil, good triumphs not by defeating evil but by ascending and growing beyond it.
So it feels to me that it's a "when in Rome" kind of decision on Obi-Wan's part, wherein he realizes he won't win this fight, and so he decides to make his end meaningful, so that he can show Luke that death is not the end of the journey... he's joining the Force.
Now, if we're talking power-scaling...
... you could argue that Ben might have put up more of a fight, had it been necessary.
George acknowledges that Ben's an old man when explaining the more dynamic fights in the Prequels... but back in the early days, he ranked him as more powerful than Vader/equal to the Emperor.
"Maybe we should set up some kind of levels of achievement. Ben can say that Luke is now a level 2 and Vader is a 4; ‘‘I was a 6 and the Emperor is a 6, and he’s on his way to becoming a 10, which will be a force so powerful in the universe that nothing can stop him. You must stop the Emperor before he achieves the level 10.’’" - Story converence, 1977, as transcribed in The Making of The Empire Strikes Back, 2010
"[Vader] ended up losing his arms and a leg and became partly a robot. So a lot of his ability to use the Force, a lot of his powers, are curbed at this point, because, as a living form, there’s not that much of him left. So his ability to be twice as good as the Emperor disappeared, and now he’s maybe 20 percent less than the Emperor. So that isn’t what the Emperor had in mind." - Vanity Fair, 2005
Now, the first one is an old quote from the development of Empire Strikes Back, when the story was very different; it's take it or leave it, if you ask me. Power-scaling is invented to justify storytelling, so if the story changes, it's not guaranteed the power-scale remains.
But if you're going by "everything Lucas said is canon!" rules then you could make the argument that, in terms of power...
If Ben = Emperor and Emperor > Vader then Ben > Vader.
And thus can argue that Ben might've beaten Vader if this confrontation was/turned into more of a Force-based contest than a physical one.
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weight of the world
series masterlist
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader
summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.
a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song
wc: 5.6k
warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad
When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes.
It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides.
Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard.
It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die.
He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating.
He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.
And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down.
Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books.
Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud.
“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.”
Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.”
Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?”
He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?”
Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.”
His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”
“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?”
“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.”
Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?”
“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.”
“How did you get that?” he asked.
“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?”
“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."
Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on.
“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.”
His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”
“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”
Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”
“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”
His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”
“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”
Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments.
“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”
“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.”
Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.”
-
“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked.
“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.”
“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.”
“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.”
Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you.
“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.”
“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused.
“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?”
“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.”
“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.”
You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.”
“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.”
You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!”
“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—”
You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?”
“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.”
“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.”
Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.”
“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.”
His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you.
He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know?
“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.”
He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness.
So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”
You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.”
“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”
The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both.
“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?”
He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?”
“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.”
He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?”
You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.”
Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.”
“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.”
“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.”
“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.”
“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.”
“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand.
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.”
Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”
“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.”
“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.”
-
“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.”
“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”
Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.”
“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.”
Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?”
Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.”
“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.”
Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb.
Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her.
“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.”
Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges.
Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.”
Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?”
“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”
Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in?
What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most?
“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.”
“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly.
“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.”
Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own.
“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked.
Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit.
“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented.
“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”
Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element.
He wondered what you would think of Montauk.
“This was one of those times?” he asked.
Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”
Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.”
Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.
And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool.
Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird.
His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened.
Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.”
“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?”
He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.”
Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.”
Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day.
-
You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself.
You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again.
You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.
The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit.
“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly.
Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.”
“Flatterer.”
“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.”
“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.”
He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”
“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”
“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”
“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”
Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?”
“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could.
“I look like a stock photo.”
“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.”
“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?”
“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.”
“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said.
“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.”
You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?”
Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.”
“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?”
“Deal,” he agreed.
“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.”
“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.”
“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.”
Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.”
“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.”
“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.”
You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h”
“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—”
“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.”
“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.”
“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.”
“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.”
That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke.
Either worked for you.
-
Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list.
“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.”
The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”
“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.”
“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.”
“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”
“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!”
Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus.
“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”
“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!”
“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.”
He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.”
His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—”
“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”
“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!”
“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.”
“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.”
“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.”
“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”
The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything?
Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.
And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.
Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.
Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.
“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.”
“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”
“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.”
“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”
Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan.
“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”
Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that.
Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”
Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”
He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest.
“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”
Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over.
Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground.
He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid.
Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help.
As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary.
He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium.
Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black.
#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation#makes me feel a little crazy tbh#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#pjo x reader#x reader#daughter of poseidon#child of poseidon#sadie writes
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Yan! Team Black request:
What if Luce survived storms end and trader found him washed up on the shore? She nurses him back to health and takes him back to Dragonstone. I can see team black becoming absolutely obsessed with reader for bringing their baby boy back to them
Yandere team black x reader. (Mostly platonic but there are sighs of it not being that way.)
Notes: I changed it up from the reader being a trader.
This might be bad but I honestly had a hard time continuing this. But I hope I did a decent job <3
Taglist: @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @second-try-stevie @prettyinblack231
Warnings: Yandere tendency, a bit of targaryen costumes…If you know what I mean, manipulation, obsession, over a just a dream to be in. poor editing.
It all started when you went to fishing in the early morning at the lake just a few minutes from your house. To your surprise when you got there you saw a body laying in the water and on the shore. You realized it was a young boy who clearly needed some aid.
His lower body was in the lake water and his face cover in sand. You cursed yourself as you dragged the boy out of the water and across the ground over to dry land. “Boy!” You gently slapped his face to see if he would awaken, he was alive and breathing but it was weak. You noticed there was blood and a cut on his head so you tore your skirt and wrapped it around his head.
“If you die on me I swear to the gods.” You muttered and took off the cloak and extra clothing he didn’t need. But his pants and shirt where still on, you didn’t want the extra weight on him or it keeping him cold. You went over to your travel bag and pulled out your blanket and set it on him and started to collect fire wood to start a fire to keep you both warm.
After you saw no more wounds on the boy you left him on the ground and went back to do what you came for- To fish. But of course you weren’t going to leave the boy but you needed the free food. So when the sun passed mid sky you took your leave. Even though he was a young boy and small, he was heavy to get onto your house. 
You had a small house out of town and in the woods which you liked because no one was there. Your kingdom was peaceful for the most part and you knew how to take care of yourself. When you got home you placed him on your bed and let him get rest but you eagerly awaited for him to wake.
“Give me a fucking minute-” you screamed as you ducked down as a shoe was thrown at you. “Tell me where I am.” The boy you saved awake after a week and he was out of control. “You could have just asked that but no you’re acting like a savage. Your in Nearva, and I saved your life so stop throwing my shit.” You glanced at him as he stops but still kept his guard up.
“Nearva? I’ve never heard of that, where is it in the seven kingdoms?” And it clicked to you where we was from. He was from Westeros, all across the world where you only heard stories about. “You’re from westeros?” You asked as you slowly stood up not to frighten him. “Yes. My name is prince, lucaerys velaryon.”
“Son of a bitch.”
You explained to him that he was all the way across the world from his home and that you weren’t a threat. He noticed your kindness to a stranger you’ve never met and nursed him back to health. He was great full for your kind heart and soon realized that once day he will repay you for what you did for him. He’ll keep you safe when the time comes…
The time you and Luke spent was pleasant to say the least. He was also sweet and kind. He’s help you in anyway he could when he was still resting and when he got better he helped you around the house and with more. You taught him how to fish, sow, cook but he ended up burning it, but at the end of the day it was nice to have company. You thought of him as a friend.
He thought of you as a sister…a older sister he never had.
Now you both stood on a ship you both worked the money to get, the only ship you knew of that could take you to your destination. It was only a one time trip and you only wanted to pay for him and let him go but he convinced you otherwise.
“I can’t go alone, y/n. What if my uncle sees me and I’ll die alone.”
Or when he would cry and hug you saying he couldn’t live knowing you were so far away. So you agreed to go with him, he promised he would take you back one day….but promises are easily broken.
When you arrive to dragonstone it was scary to say the least.
As soon as your ship got close to land you could see guards waiting for you to step off. The men that ran your ship told you that you both had to go alone and sent u off in the emergency boat.
“State your name.” A man in heavy armor asked as his sword was drown. “I come to escort he prince back home.” As soon a Luke took of his hood their eyes widened. Luke demand to be brought into the castle and that you would come unharmed.
Luke held you hand the entire time. He was nervous to see his family again but he also wanted it to be known that you were on his side.
Once you got into the main room your life was changed forever.
The family stood at a glowing war table and you could see the queen and her husband, and others. Once they noticed Luke rhaenrya almost fainted at the sight but ran to hug her child. She cried and felt him to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 
He kissed his cheek and brought him back into a hug while Daemon came to say his hellos to the boy. You watched in joy as the family reunite and it made you glad you came.
Luke pulled away from them and glanced over to you and they followed. He told them that you saved him and brought him back, rhaenrya was still in tears when she walked over to you and pulled you into a embrace.
“Thank you for being my boy back.” She kisses your forehead and gave you a last final squeeze then stepped away. She reassured you that you’ll go back to your home land but not after that thank you. And they insisted on you staying and the way their eyes looked at you- You couldn’t say no.
Rhaenrya wondered how someone as fragile as you could have took care of her boy all alone and do all the things you did. Luke told her how you lived alone, hunter for yourself and did everything. She was amazing but she found herself thinking of how dangerous it was for you.
Daemon also wondered the same thing. You seem so…different. He’d watch you more and more and notice the cuts on you hands, the way you couldn’t stay still and had to be doing things. And you’re sweet attitude. How could you survive on your own? 
They see the way luke acts with you. Like you’re the sunshine in the room and follows you around. How could they take that away from him? And themselves because you’re the new light in their lives.
Everyone started to hang out with you and get closer. That’s when their obsession really start. They didn’t know why but they just felt like you belong with them and in their family.
“My dear, you’re going to stay with us.” Rhaenrya sat you down on your daily walks. She told you it’s because she grew fond of you and so did the rest. After what you did you couldn’t go back now.
“Don’t worry. We have decided to name you our daughter. Our own light sent from the gods.” 
You had to stay with one of them or have the guards follow you around all day. Eating meals, having a meeting with each of them through out the day.
Rhaenrya took the role as your mother seriously. She came to help you each morning on your hair. Protecting you like a spider to its young. She would stop at nothing to protect you. As time goes by she can’t even tell the difference of her not birthing you, she believes you are her daughter.
Daemon is a protective and proud dad. He’d watch over you like a hawk and be ready to kill anyone that comes near you that isn’t their family. He knows you miss your old life so he takes you out sometime as a bonding experience. Like you teaching him how to fish or even sword fighting but you can never had a real one.
Jace- Jace is obsessed with you, romantic or not. He thinks your the best woman to ever be brought into this world. He stares at any male who glanced at you, making you laugh or bring you flowers each morning. He comes on all the trips that you and daemon have. He’ll take you to meet his dragon. You’re his sister, and if you wanted…even lover. 
Luke- oh my dear Luke. Like I said he follows you around because he wants to keep you safe like you did to him. He’s always near you. From holding your hand to cling onto you in any way he can. He’s the most possessive out of them all. Anyone who interrupts his session he’ll give you sad eyes and manipulate you to sending them away. Even his mother. You also bake with him still and let the family join in to.
The baby’s love you. They don’t know what’s going on but they’re just happy to see you and be near you.
Rhaena treats you just like her sister- They both believe that your somehow their long lost triplet- So she loves to be around you. Matching dresses and her teaching you things. You two studying together. Her also having her arm around yours. Honey she’s chill but don’t temped her or she will do anything for you.
Baela is a hotheaded like her father, so she demanded for you to come visit her on driftmark after she met you once. She takes you on her dragon and loves how you cling onto her and rely on her. She will throw her hands at anyone who looks at you wrong.
They also aren’t above putting you in a situation of danger just for you to be saved by them if you don’t trust them. Maybe hire someone to “Kill you” and have daemon be waiting there to safe you. Rhaenrya taking you in her arms and cry, everyone but rhaenrya and daemon thinks it’s real. They set it up but for good reason. 
The family loves you deeply because just as the gods intended. Your theirs.
Your loving family- Your only family.

#yandere house of the dragon#yandere house of the dragon x reader#yandere hotd#yandere rhaenrya targaryen#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere jacaerys velaryon x reader#yandere Luke velaryon#house or the dragon x reader#yandere daemon targaryen x reader#yandere rhaenrya targaryen x reader#lucerys velaryon
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I'm going to rewatch "Revenge of the Sith" later and I don't remember the original trilogy all that well either, but... both "The Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones" seem to suffer tremendously during their final battles because the films keep cutting away from the potentially dramatically and emotionally rich sequences to... the childish physical comedy adventures of sidekick characters.
I'm not going to pretend that "Star Wars" isn't incredibly silly at times. "Return of the Jedi" has the Empire being murdered by teddy bears with sticks at one point, and I am personally incredibly fond of this sequence and the Ewoks generally for no good reason I can name. But, from what I remember, that movie was better editing-wise about letting more dramatic sequences like Luke versus Vader breathe emotionally. We had some time to settle into these fights, to feel Luke's fear and anger, to see Luke's resolve, you know?
And in "A New Hope", the climatic dogfights involve people dying and it's treated quite seriously. A lot of lives are on the line with the Death Star's destruction. The characters go into the battle knowing that some of them won't make it back. And in "The Empire Strikes Back"... as far as I vaguely remember, there's not very much silliness at all at the end of that movie, the protagonists "lose" and all of the characters are in a lot of pain. The camera stays with them to show us their agony and grief and strength.
But in "The Phantom Menace", the film keeps cutting away from Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan versus Maul in favor of Jar-Jar Binks tripping over droids. Jar-Jar Binks fighting to defend his homeworld against an invading army, as his people die around him, is treated as an utter joke. Pure comedic relief with no substance at an utterly inappropriate time. They are undercutting the "war" in "Star Wars" that was a big part of its tone. The film doesn't bother to treat anyone like they or their lives matter in that sequence. And Anakin is in a ship he's struggling to pilot against an entire army, but we never get any real sense of him being afraid of dying in space or being at risk, as he almost accidentally saves the day. Padmé is just... fighting down hallways and it's kind of boring, both action-wise and emotionally. I spent most of the time wishing that the camera would just cut back to Maul again because that fight had actual, like, substance.
And in "Attack of the Clones", the film keeps wasting time cutting back to Threepio with his head accidentally stuck on a battle droid's body, when it's not even clear why he and Artoo are even there beyond just jamming them in as iconic figures from the original trilogy. They shouldn't be there!!! This is blatant shoehorning!!! This is valuable screentime that the Battle of Geonosis could use to focus on the Jedi who are being killed, on the separatists who are being invaded, or on the clones who have just entered the war. Mace Windu or Obi-Wan Kenobi reacting emotionally to the nameless Jedi being cut down around them would have been nice. The confrontations with Dooku could have dug deeper into the emotional and physical pain of his betrayal.
Mace Windu's fight with Jango could have been longer, instead, seeing as the hardest emotional beat we actually get in this film confronting the death of this battle is probably Boba picking up Jango's helmet. A kid has lost his dad!!! We could have seen any of the clones reacting to this, maybe? We could have seen Mace Windu telling Obi-Wan about Jango's death and then Obi-Wan belatedly realizing that they don't know what happened to Jango's child in the chaos. "The Clone Wars" television show ended up doing so much heavy lifting emotionally for this trilogy, because these movies are way too busy with unnecessary Jar-Jar Binks and Threepio physical comedy in all the wrong places.
"Revenge of the Sith" as far as I remember is at least too busy finally focusing on everything going to hell and the tragedy to fit in a jarring sidekick comedy sequence during any final battle. Can you even imagine? Anakin is murdering younglings and the movie keeps cutting back to Threepio and Jar-Jar tripping over droids and shrieking trying to escape Coruscant? I don't remember the movie that well. If there actually is a sidekick physical comedy sequence through the end of the fights in "Revenge of the Sith" that I have blocked from my memory, then I am going to scream into a pillow.
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Conservations with the Damned (Daredevil Fan Fic)
Summary: Foggy Nelson stands in front of Matt’s grave. And has the talk he should have had . . . before.
Warning: Heavy angst, hurt no comfort, discussion of (perceived) character death, grief, mourning, mentions of suicide
Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza
<Edit: Added taglist>
Conservations with the Damned
“Hey, buddy,” Foggy said to the tombstone. “I need to talk to you. Probably should have had this talk sooner. But I didn’t. Too stubborn I guess. Both of us are too damned stubborn.”
He took a deep breath. “It still doesn’t seem real. You being gone. I knew that it was . . . possible . . . that your hobby was going to kill you. But I hadn’t really believed it. Not really. Part of me just expected you to defy the odds.”
He laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh. “Out of spite if nothing else.”
Foggy sombered. “But then . . . it . . . happened. Everyone walked out. Dusty and bloody but alive. All but you. It still feels like a knife straight to my heart.”
Another pained laugh. “I prayed. Did you know that? I prayed when you didn’t come out. I haven’t prayed in years. But that day I prayed. I prayed and prayed. ‘Please, God, let him stubble out of there. Let him be alive. Please, just one more miracle.’ But you never did. You never fucking did.”
“They never found your body. We buried an empty coffin. Well I did. Karen doesn’t want to believe it. That you are really . . .”
He swallowed hard and said, “Dead . . . Which I get. I don’t want to believe it either. I want every expert saying that you couldn’t have survived to be wrong. I want them all to be wrong. Jessica. Luke. Danny. Colleen. Everyone.
“I want them to tell me that they lied. That you didn’t choose to stay down there. That you didn’t choose to die. For her.”
The last word was snarled. “You know I didn’t think I could hate Elektra more than I already did. Sorry, buddy, I know you loved her. But I’ve hated her since Columbia. Ever since I had to pick up the shattered pieces of my best friend and try to glue him back together. I hate the way she always convinced you to do such stupid shit. Why did you always listen to her?”
His voice dropped down to a whisper. “Why did you die for her? Why, Matt? Did you think she was the only one that gave even half a shit about you?”
Another hard swallow. “Well, you’re wrong. Again. I give a shit. I give all the shits. No matter how much of shit you were being, I still fucking loved you!”
The shout startled the birds out of the nearby trees, sent them spiraling off into the sky. Little birds almost black against the vivid reds and yellows of the setting sun. Another day and Foggy might have found the sight beautiful.
Today it was ugly. Dull. The world seemed to have lost all of its color.
When he spoke again, his voice was as even as he could manage. “I’m sorry Matt. I’m sorry that you died thinking that I didn’t care. That it didn’t matter to me if you lived or died. That the only one you had in your corner was her. I’m so fucking sorry.”
He could no longer stop the tears from falling. “If I could, I would do it all different. Still would have left that night. I was hurt. And angry. I needed time.
“I should have asked you to explain your senses again. And actually listened this time. Instead of assuming things. Should have made sure you knew that you could still talk to me. I hated . . . hate that you felt like you couldn’t tell me about Elektra. Or anything else that was going on during your . . . night job.
“That’s not entirely on you. I made it clear that I didn’t like your . . . hobby. Didn’t like that side of you. Can’t really blame you for avoiding it around me.”
He sighed. “Still wished that you had talked to me. Or I had talked to you. Like the adults that we’re supposed to be. But we didn’t.”
His voice dropped back down to whisper. “But we didn’t. And now it’s too late.”
Foggy stood there in silence, staring at the words engraved on the stone until it was too dark for him to see them anymore. Not that he needed light. He knew what was written there. He saw it in his nightmares. Along with haunted hazel eyes. Hazel eyes that he had only realized later that Matt had started hiding from him. Putting up an armor that Matt hadn’t felt the need for around Foggy since sophomore year . . .
One of many things he had only realized when it was far, far too late.
“Good-bye, Matt,” he said, then turned to go.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made him pause. Squint into the shadows around the Church. He thought he had . . . No. There was no one. Nothing here. Nothing but shadows and graves. The silent dead. And bitter memories.
His shoulders slumped, Foggy Nelson trudged out of the cemetery.
#daredevil#netflix daredevil#mcu daredevil#daredevil fanfiction#fan fiction#foggy nelson#daredevil angst#hurt no comfort#tw character death#tw sui talk#heavy angst
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“besties” | c. mcward
cole mcward x !hughes sister
a/n: sorry that the ending is rushed! I’ve had this in the drafts for months but here it is also got a jack insta edit coming soon!
made this for @starsandhughes 🫶🏻
ynhughes
liked by _quinnhughes, colemcward, _eliaspettersson and others.
ynhughes trip to van was a need🤟❤️
tagged: _quinnhughes, colemcward, _eliaspettersson
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colemcward please come back you left me with these lunatics!
ynhughes omw! one test is okay to miss
jackhughes don’t skip the test stay home and wait till summer.
ynhughes ugh sorry cole I’m being forced to stay!
colemcward boo you stink jack.
ynhughes ^
jackhughes don’t agree with him!
ynhughes sorry but it’s in my contract that I have to agree with him when it comes to you
jackhughes what contract??
ynhughes canucks contract! guess who signed 🤭
jackhughes don’t play with my feelings.
lhughes_06 why are you guys posing with a dog? who’s dog is that?😭
ynhughes erm found her on the side of the road!
colemcward yep that’s totally how we found her!
lhughes_06 you guys kidnapped the dog didn’t you?.
ynhughes not exactly!
lhughes_06 not exactly? do tell
ynhughes erm sorry I’ll die in those trenches.
colemcward yeah me too.
_quinnhughes please come back
ynhughes dude I literally left 30 minutes ago, you’ll be fine
_quinnhughes no I won’t!
ynhughes fine I’ll come back
elblue6 y/f/n y/m/n hughes you better not go back and get on that plane, you have a game tomorrow.
ynhughes yes mom! I’ll send you picture updates of the view out the window so you know.
_quinnhughes she can skip it.
elblue6 quintin jerome hughes she can’t and stop trying to convince her she can.
_quinnhughes alright got it sorry mom!
tylerduke so anybody find it weird that it’s all cole on the top?
ynhughes what?? no it’s not all cole on the top, there’s also me!
lhughes_06 stop that is pretty weird, anything you need to tell us y/n.
jackhughes yeah is there??
_quinnhughes guys stop there’s nothing going on with them
ynhughes yeah what quinn said, cole and I are just certified besties🤟
colecaulfield yeah “besties”
ynhughes shut up cole!
jackhughes COLE WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!
colecaulfield nothing!
jackhughes expect Luke and I at your door tomorrow, already bought flight tickets.
ynhughes better change your locks. (cause of my brothers but also me.)
colecaulfield if anybody needs me I’ll be on a flight to disclosed location where y/n can’t find me and where the three brothers can’t either.
ynhughes bold of you to assume I can’t find you, you’re currently booking a flight for Japan
colecaulfield I’m terrified of you.
colemcward
liked by ynhughes, tykerduke, _quinnhughes and others.
colemcward finally can post my favorite photos of my girl, I love you so much thank you for the visit and the dates (I beat her at hockey and she won’t admit it!)
tagged ynhughes
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ynhughes he’s lying nobody beats me at hockey(just ask matthew or brady! they’ll tell you the truth )
matthew.tkachuk she’s right nobody beats her
colemcward lame you could’ve taken my side!
matthew.tkachuk and get hit with her hockey stick during games? I’m good you’re on your own during this one kid
jackhughes ahem @/_quinnhughes quoting you “guys stop there’s nothing going on with them” how stupid do you feel right now!
lhughes_06 gonna need to hear him actually say “I’m so stupid for thinking there’s nothing going on between them”
ynhughes actually I need to hear this too
colemcward same so babe come here quickly
ynhughes don’t rush me but coming
_quinnhughes YOURE STILL IN VANCOUVER?! You better come see me right now.
titobeavui91 sorry but she’s currently visiting me with Cole so you’ll have to wait your turn.
_quinnhughes I know where you live so I’ll be there soon
trevorzegras ew you guys are sick (cute but sick)
ynhughes call it sick again and that hockey stick you gave me will be finding a new home and it’s not appropriate enough to say online!
trevorzegras I’m sorry you guys aren’t sick! I love your relationship so much and it’s so cute, best nhl couple ever!
ynhughes thanks bestie love you!
colecaulfield FINALLY now I can post all the cute sick pictures I took of you guys when you came to visit me!
ynhughes thanks cole! (send them to me!)
trevorzegras he can call you sick cute but I can’t??
ynhughes actually he called the pictures sick cute not us! Think you getting bashed into the boards is messing up your reading , do I need to help you with that again?
trevorzegras oh I’m so cross checking you.
ynhughes try it you won’t be able to!
jamiedrysdale and you hit him in the spot, love it💀
ynhughes me too! If he hugs a stick and cry again send it to me!
tylerduke now you guys should come see me! I miss our trio
ynhughes booking a ticket right now sorry @/_quinnhughes skipping our dinner tonight and captain cole won’t be at practice tomorrow!
colemcward we’ll be there soon Ty!
tylerduke thank god I need y/n to keep me sane around the umich boys.
markestapa all of us are offended, we are not that bad!
ynhughes you are.
lhughes_06 she’s right sorry guys
markestapa don’t come back now.
ynhughes too late tickets are bought!
#cole mcward x hughes sister#cole mcward x reader#cole mcward#quinn hughes#luke hughes#jack hughes#trevor zegras#jamie drysdale#cole caufield#tyler duke#matthew tkachuk
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Some Thought on the Second season (the parts I watched, anyway)
In no order in particular, really.
=> The scene in the first episode of Jace trying to report Rhaenyra about the forces he aquired but breaking down in tears due to Luke's death was amazing. It's the conflict between being royals/rulers and being people/family. It also gave us more info about the state of the upcoming war, and showed us the relationship between Rhaenyra and her son.
=> Could have done without the "Rhaenyra looking at the distance" scenes, though. There must be a better way to explore her grief.
=> We got to see Lord Stark!!! And get some Winterfell lore!!! and go see the Watch!!!! The North is my fav I'm so glad to get that little glimpse. Also Cregan Stark is the most Stark dude I've seen on this show(s). Hopefully we'll see some fun wild blood of the wolf moments from him.
=> "I want Aemond's head" *leaves* ok girlboss but maybe come up with a plan
=> Jace hair is just.... So much better. I love character development.
=> We were robbed for not getting the Green's reaction to Aemond's kinslaying, especially since they'll have to manage the fallout from this act.
=> I don't like sexual turn in Allicent/Cole relationship. Not because I blame Allicent or whatever, I just really liked how their relationship was not grounded in romance/sex (in a way, they were respite to one another from sexual pressures) but I guess "she was a woman, he was a man" writing logic wins.
Edit: you know what? I thing that the criston -allicent thing could have been really good if we saw them get to that point. They were boinking out of nowhere . Was there something I missed in season 1?
=> I can go off all the ways this show strips women of agency and the ability to want anything, and perhaps I will (once I finish the season), but for now I don't like how Mysaria was "poor unfortunate soul forced to introduce Daemon to B&C for her freedom" and not, you know, an active perpetrator in this.
=> LOL not Daemon confronting Rheanys about the dumb scene in the dragon pit from season 1. Yes. Rheanys could've ended this war with minimum casualties. It's not her fault she didn't, the writers just decided to blow up a meaningful scene in the dumbest way ever.
=> Also there is a lot of talk during this season about the smallfolk and how their opinion can sway who wins the war, which is good, but it's odd that Rheanys' dragon stomping, killing and maiming all those smallfolk doesn't ever come up.
=> Daeron's existence being confirmed in an offhand remark after not even being MENTIONED in the last season is the FUNNIEST moment in this show for me.
=> It feels really odd to me that Aemond is still visiting the women who essentially was forced on him as a child. Like. It's the same kind of logic of "Larys has foot fetish becasue his disability is based around his foot" and I don't like it.
=> A lot of people say "They killed the boy" was Heleana not caring about her son dying, but for me it was a perfect encapsulation of her unable to handle the immense pain she's in and trying to distance herself from reality. This and the funeral scene later show Heleana trying to process her grief through her neurodivergence.
=> Real talk: why did B&C have a dog?
=> Daemon in Harrenhall is my favorite storyline, sitting there having indie horror game esque visions and phasing in and out an unfortunate reality of having to do diplomacy. Chef's kiss.
=> Daemon saying "have you considered kinslaying" to a Tully boy whos motto is "Family, Honor, Duty" is so fucking funny. He is so freaking bad at this.
=> ALYS RIVERSSSSSS MY FAVVVVVVVVV "you will die here", refuses to elaborates, leaves. Yes brew blood cocktails to give Daemon nightmares. Yessss gaslight him into thinking its the bed.
=> Ok the plan of Rhaenyra to sneak and meet with Alicent was so... Cartoonish. Also highly irresponsible for the ruling queen to dissapear without a trace during a WAR. Worse of all, it was kind of boring, and cost us valuable time we could use to expand upon other characters.
=> Like I know Cole sent the twin with a similar plan but at least that was acknowledged as stupid by the narrative, and also had an explosive and emotionally satisfying conclusion.
=> LMAO at Otto complaining about Aegon as he was fired, alll the way up to and including when he was packing to go back to the Reach.
=> What team am I if I think Aegon is a legit Usurper but Rhaenyra is kinda boring?
#HOTD#HOTD rant#hotd critical#I guess?#HOTD SPOILERS#house of the dragon#HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SPOILERS#team green#team black#rhaenyra targaryen#jace velaryon#daemon targaryen#lady mysaria#alicent hightower#alys rivers#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#heleana targaryen
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Mama, I’m callin’, I’ve got some news
Victoria ‘Tori’ Benoit x Luke Hughes AU!
AU masterlist!
toribenoit_ has posted!
toribenoit_
Liked by lhughes_06, edwards.73, dylanduke25 and 1,367 more
toribenoit_: he’s all grown up 😢, have fun in the big leagues, Lukey, we all know you deserve it
Tagged: @/lhughes_06
lhughes_06: gonna miss you V
toribenoit_: 🫶
*this user has limited comments*
toribenoit_
Liked by juli._benny, lhughes_06, gracie..21 and 1,278 more
toribenoit_: life recently ☀️🪻
juli._benny: missing you, come back soon
toribenoit_: love you Julie 🫶
edwards.73: 🪩🪩
toribenoit_: you speak in code and it confuses me
edwards.73: 👎👎
gracie..21: the guy’s shoes?? Girl…
toribenoit_: no comment…?
gracie..21: calling you, you better give a comment.
dylanduke25: who was that coffee for, huh, Tori??
toribenoit_: die. miserably. die in a fire.
lhughes_06 has posted a story!
View private replies…
╰┈➤ toribenoit_: what I’m here for ig 🙄
lhughes_06: seriously though thanks again, V, you didn’t have to come
toribenoit_: would do it a hundred times over don’t forget it
╰┈➤ jackhughes: I’m not saying pussy but…
lhughes_06: and I’m not saying shut up but…
~~••
Note!: hiya!! This is part one of the Victoria Benoit au and i completely forgot to put this anywhere in the fic 😭 anyway I’m on mobile so sometimes you’ll have that ugly ~~•• divider or sometimes I’ll have a divider by @saradika-graphics depending on what’s in the writing/if it’s an insta edit or not!
Thank you for reading !!!
#luke x victoria 🪻#luke hughes au#luke hughes x oc#Luke Hughes x reader#hockey smau#hockey au#hockey x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes x you#nj devils#nj devils x reader#nj devils smau
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there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 1: the road not taken looks real good now)
pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc word count: 8971 content warnings: explicit sexual content, major character death, cheating/infidelity (not really, but also kind of – it'll make sense when you read it), will add to this list as needed read part 2 here
notes: this is also cross-posted to ao3, as that is my primary place for posting, if you would prefer to read there. this author is fully team black, so proceed with caution. background relationships include cregan/jace/baela and luke/rhaena. feel free to read heavily into daena and rhaenyra's interactions too if you so choose
before reading, please be aware that this is an AU of a completed fanfiction i have written called fireplace ashes. you really don't need to have read it though to read this, as it's pretty self contained. all you need to know at the start:
daena velaryon is the youngest daughter of rhaenys targaryen and corlys velaryon; the same age as aegon. she claimed vermithor when she was eight and laenor was her favorite person in the world growing up, so she loves her nephews very much. she is betrothed to jace and neither of them are happy about it. when rhaenyra sent luke to storm's end, daena went with him. when he chased after luke, she stopped him, and this is where we leave off...
edit, 12/18/2023: because i forgot to mention this before posting — re: any references made to sarya. sarya is an oc from the fic i wrote that this is based on. she is daena’s handmaiden with whom daena has had a clandestine relationship that is so doomed by the narrative that they are both entirely aware of it
Daena and Aemond spoke more and more with each passing day. Mariyah was still sick, confined to her bed and face growing paler as the storms raged outside. Aemond had grown surprisingly competent in dealing with the barn animals, so she spent a majority of her days attending to Mariyah.
“Perhaps it was a miracle,” Mariyah said in a croaking voice as Daena wrung out a cloth to lay atop her forehead.
“What was?” Daena asked.
“Stumbling upon you,” Mariyah said, closing her eyes as Daena laid the cloth down. “The gods knew.”
“What did they know?”
“That I would die, and they ensured I would not die alone.”
There was a faint smile on her deeply lined face, as though she were at peace.
“Oh, don’t say that,” Daena said, taking care to smooth down Mariyah’s gray hair.
“Ever since my Royce passed three years ago, I’ve been waiting for the gods to take me. We never had children, you know.” Mariyah’s muddy green eyes sprung open and she reached out a wrinkled hand to touch Daena’s face. Tears began brimming as she spoke once more. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s been wonderful, having you and your husband here.”
Daena partly hated herself for lying to Mariyah, but if it gave the old woman comfort in her last days to think she was providing aid to a happy couple in love, she would continue the charade until the moment the storms broke.
“I’d like you and Jack to keep the house,” Mariyah whispered. “Let it be your shelter. Go to Essos if you wish, but let the house remain standing, I beg. Let it still be filled with love even once I’m gone.”
Feeling tears in her own eyes begin to well, Daena nodded. If this was a way to settle her debt with Mariyah, she would declare this house as royal property. It would be a hunting getaway for her ancestors for years to come. It would never crumble as a way to pay thanks to the woman who saved her.
“Of course,” Daena said finally. “We’ll take care of your home.”
“Make it your home,” Mariyah begged. “Make it yours.”
“We will,” Daena promised. “We will.”
Mariyah nodded, contended by Daena’s words, and her eyes fluttered close once more. Her chest stuttered, but then began to rise and fall in time. Pursing her lips, Daena pulled the covers up the Mariyah’s chin and removed the damp cloth from her forehead. She let the water pitcher rest on the bedside table and filled a glass with water in case Mariyah woke up thirsty.
When she went down the stairs, Aemond was sitting by the fire in the main room of the house reading. The candles were dim, burnt down to the wicks around him. They would have to replace them on the morrow with the new ones.
“What are you reading?” she asked him.
He glanced up from his book and pressed his lips together. “A book of Lysene poetry. The old woman is more learned than I thought.”
“Her name is Mariyah,” Daena said, scowling and taking a seat in the chair across from him. She pointed her feet out and let the flames warm her bare ankles. “You ought to have some respect, you know.”
He scoffed at her but did not look back down at his book. Instead, he met her eyes brazenly. Despite herself, she delighted in the way the flames licked at the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. The question was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not find the words in actuality.
“Our families think us dead,” Daena whispered instead, staring into the flames.
“And whose fault is that?” he retorted.
She flexed her fingers and clenched her jaw, wondering what it might be like to fling her fist into his jaw.
“What if we stay dead?” she asked him.
“If you’d like me to kill you, just give the word,” he said through his teeth.
“Not like that,” she snapped. “I just— Mariyah told me when she dies she wants us— or Alyse and Jack, rather— to keep the house… and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to stay here and live a simple life.”
“You wouldn’t like that,” Aemond said. He closed his book and set it aside on the floor by his feet. “It would bore you senseless.”
“You said the same thing about my marriage to Jace,” Daena pointed out. She flexed her feet and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. “It would seem I am destined for a life of dreadful boredom.”
She sighed loudly and pushed her braids off her shoulder to fall over the back of the chair. Aemond’s eye was trained directly on her face, seeming to see through her to her very soul.
“Would it not be better to be bored on my own terms, living my own life rather than forced into a loveless marriage?”
“That would mean abandoning your family,” he pointed out, “which you would never do.”
She huffed and dropped her hands onto her lap. “You’re right. But it’s nice to pretend, I suppose.”
“What’s the point in pretending?” he asked her. “We are not children.”
“You’re infuriating,” she snapped. “We’ve been stuck here for days on end with nothing to do, knowing our families are preparing for war! What’s the point of any of it? Why shouldn’t I imagine an easier life?”
“Because it makes you a coward,” he told her as though it were the simplest thing in the world, voice too placid for her liking. “You cannot run from your destiny, Daena, no matter how hard you might try.”
“I’ve never run from my destiny,” she said defensively, remembering the way Helaena looked at her and whispered ‘Dragonslayer’ all those years ago.
He hummed and turned to the flames, barring the sapphire in his eye from view. All she could see was the unmarred half of his face, and she could see the strange little boy in his bones. She had quite liked that boy, but she thought he might be long dead by now.
“I hope they betrothed Jace to Baela in my absence,” she confessed in a small voice. “She could love him in a manner I could never bear to, I think.”
He slid his feet forward. The house shoes Mariyah had provided for him were neatly placed at one of the chair legs, but he wore thick woolen socks all the same. The heal of one of the socks was fraying and the other was drooping so low that she could see his bony ankle poking out from beneath the pants that were too short for him. It made him look disgustingly human.
“Which Baratheon girl were you going to marry?”
“I do not know,” he said. “Whichever one I found the most tolerable, I suppose.”
“How romantic.” She smirked a bit to herself and adjusted her weight in the seat for a more comfortable position. “I envy the smallfolk in this. They are allowed to fall in love before they marry. We must make an attempt at love only after the wedding, if at all.”
“I’d take a castle and not having to cook my own meals and slaughter my own animals over love any day,” Aemond said.
She frowned, pitying him not for the first time and likely not for the last.
“That’s terribly sad, Aemond.”
When he did not respond, she sighed and stood up.
“I will be going to bed now, I think…” She made her way across the room and faltered, turning back to look at him. He was staring into the empty seat. “Goodnight, Aemond.”
He turned. “Goodnight, Daena.”
With a strange, heavy feeling in her chest, she settled into the bed she made for herself on the floor and laid her head down. Tonight, sleep would not come, no matter how strongly she yearned for it. She tossed and turned, trying to find an acceptable position. Sometime later, Aemond entered and blew out the candles. She listened to him shuffle around and settle down. Once he laid down, he was still. She heard his breaths turn deep as sleep took him over. Irritated by that, she groaned into her pillow and flipped to attempt to sleep on her back.
“Just come up here.”
Her eyes sprung open despite the total darkness. She had thought him fast asleep by now.
“What?” she asked. “Don’t be absurd, Aemond. That would be—”
“I do believe we are far past what is and is not proper at this point,” he told her. “The bed is plenty large enough for two.”
She thought of what her mother and father might say, of what Sarya would believe, of what Jace and Luke might think of her. To share a bed with the enemy was bordering on treason, but was Aemond truly an enemy? Not to her, she thought a bit shamefully.
“You are just saying that to lure me in with false pretenses so that you might sully my name and reputation later on,” she accused, though she knew it was rather halfhearted.
“Gods be good,” he grunted. “Daena, just come up here and sleep.”
“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for being so weak.
It was merely because her back was beginning to ache all through the day from sleeping on the floor for the last two weeks. That was all. Nothing more.
Pillows in hand, she climbed up and made herself comfortable on the bed. She was deeply conscious of Aemond laying stock still beside her, pale skin exposed. Heat from his body radiated towards her and she was mindful not to curl into it, instead turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut. She prayed for the storms to end early and for Vermithor to finish healing soon to take her away from this place.
Forgetting she had not gone to sleep on the floor, she was confused when she woke up to warmth and soft cushions and a weight thrown across her middle. She opened her eyes to find Aemond’s head tucked into her shoulder, hand splayed over her stomach. Instantly, she stiffened. This was an intimacy she had only known with Sarya. A traitorous part of herself was glad for it, having missed the feeling of falling asleep wrapped up in another. She quickly murdered that thought and turned onto her side to attempt to slip out of Aemond’s grip. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper and did not awaken from her efforts. If it were up to her, he would never learn of this.
Mariyah passed four days later in her sleep, and Daena found that her heart was broken. Mariyah, who had been so deeply kind and had taken in two strangers without a thought, was dead and the world was worse off for it.
“We have to bury her,” she insisted.
“Look outside,” Aemond said, gesturing to the raging rain and wind. “You want to dig a grave?”
“It’s either that or we let her rot in here,” Daena argued. “Don’t be so cold hearted, Aemond.”
“Fine,” Aemond hissed. “You can dig the grave yourself. I want no part in it.”
And so she did. Wrapped in the cloak Mariyah wore the night she took them in, Daena marched outside with a shovel and began digging. The grave was shallow, but it would have to do. With all the rain, wind, and mud splattering up onto her face, it was nearly impossible to see what she was doing. Lightning cracked through the sky and a branch snapped off the tree just to her left.
When she turned to go back to the house, Aemond was already walking out with Mariyah’s body wrapped neatly in one of the blankets from her bed. Clearly, he had changed his mind. She was sure she was crying, but she was thankful to the rain for obscuring it from Aemond. Her throat closed as he gently laid Mariyah into the grave she dug. She had never seen him capable of such gentleness before.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
If he heard her, he offered no response. Instead, he took the shovel from her hands and began to cover Mariyah’s body. He moved quickly and methodically and did not even spare her a glance. With every day they spent together, she realized that she understood very little about the prince. He kept his motivations so close to his chest that she was constantly, utterly befuddled by him. Once he was done covering the grave, he stood at Daena’s side—as though waiting for her to move.
“I wrote to you,” she heard herself say, voice hushed in confession. “After that day on the rocky island, I wrote to you.”
“Yes,” he said.
Something within her shattered. She had hoped ceaselessly that the raven had been lost, or that someone else had gotten the letter and kept it from him. That day on the rocky island with him had been one of the best she ever had since Laena’s death, and now they would never ride dragons together again. Her eyes burned.
“Why did you never write back?”
“It seemed pointless,” he said, very pointedly not looking at her.
“I must confess,” she said, “I do not understand your reasoning.”
He flexed his hand, splaying his fingers out. He rounded on her, shoulders set back. The cloak’s hood was low on his forehead, but she could see the deep indigo of his eye clear as day. There was confliction written in his iris, and then determination as a muscle in his jaw ticked.
“Three years ago,” he said, voice hard and cold as sharp steel, “I had intended to ask for your hand.”
It should not have surprised her, with everyone around her back then telling her that he was attempting to court her, and yet it did. The dragon brooch he had gifted her was proof enough of that, but she still had been so blind to it. She had thought it a friendship, and him no more than a boy with a crush. She had no idea that his feelings had ran so deep.
“After that day on the island, I went to my mother and told her my plans. She forbade it and told me I was not to see you again, on account of your allegiances.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “Aemond, I—”
“It matters not,” he said.
“Of course it matters,” she said.
A great gust of wind hit her directly in the face and blew the hood of her cloak off, but she made no move to fix it or run for shelter. This seemed too important.
“No,” he snapped, “it does not. Why bother fixating on the past and things that will never be?”
“Tell me something, then,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. “That stone in your eye. Is it not the sapphire I gave you?”
“It serves as a reminder.”
“What could it possibly remind you of?”
He stepped closer to her. “The things I will never have.”
“Why would you want constant reminders of that?” she asked him.
“Because so long as I am reminded of what I cannot have, I will not be so foolish as to think of what could have been.”
Again, she found him terribly sad. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm.
“You must allow yourself to want things,” she insisted. “Constant restraint is no way to live. Take what you want, Aemond, and let yourself feel.”
Unable to bear it any longer, she backed away from him and reentered the house. She ripped the cloak off and left it to rot on the floor. She was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. It was terrible, disgusting, infuriating. She was not entirely sure what it was, but it was just as likely to be the muddy clothes as it was Aemond’s attitude. She could not fathom how he could possibly be so cold about matters that deserved only warmth. He was sharp, cutting and slicing with his words, as he spoke about wanting to marry her. In this moment, she would have liked nothing more than to skewer him.
Pulling at the strings on her dress, she began the process of disrobing for a bath. She wanted to be rid of him. She wanted to be clean.
She relaxed in the tub until her fingers shriveled and the water turned cold. She dunked her head one last time and stood to leave, but then realized the flaw in her plan. In her haste to take a bath, she had neglected to collect a towel to dry off with or fresh clothes.
“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she would have no choice but to call for Aemond’s aid.
Surely, he would never let her forget this. Especially not after what he just admitted to her. Would he think she was trying to seduce him? Grimacing to herself, she drew her knees to her chest and called his name until she heard his footsteps approach the door.
“What is it?” he asked, sounding just as irritated as she had expected.
“I—” It was already humiliating. “Could you please bring me a towel and chemise? I forgot.”
He made a noise that could have been mistaken for a snort behind the door. Without voicing his assent or denial, he walked away. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek and absentmindedly scratching at her clavicle, Daena debated her options. She glanced a bit disparagingly at her discarded gown from before. She could put that back on, but the thought of it was entirely unappealing.
Then, without warning, the door flew open. Jolting in surprise, Daena quickly drew her knees even closer to her chest to attempt to save her from even more indignity.
“Here.” He held out a bundle of fabrics. “Where do you want them?”
“Um, just… The floor is fine. Thank you.”
He nodded and she watched as his eye flickered from her face to the harsh scar on her shoulder, visible no doubt from the manner in which she was hunched over to prevent him from seeing her more intimate areas. Having let him see the scar, now, she perhaps would have rathered him see the other parts of her. Somehow, the scar felt leagues more intimate than her breasts.
“It happened in the Stepstones,” she said, unsure why she kept him in here.
She really ought to have sent him away, and perhaps in every other life she did. But, in this one, she did not.
Aemond’s cheeks darkened in a flush.
“How?” he asked.
His eye was trained so singularly on her face that she knew he was making a concerted effort not to look elsewhere.
“I was fighting on the ground,” Daena explained. “Turned my back on an opponent I thought was dead.”
Could he hear the undercutting questions in her words? Can I turn my back to you, Aemond? Can I trust you? Once, she might have said yes easily.
“I hope you gave the craven the death he deserved,” Aemond said, nodding sharply. “There is no honor in that.”
She looked at him, and he her. Slowly, she felt the barest of smiles tug at her lips. Each and every day, he surprised her. Whether it was good or bad, she did not know, and she suspected she would not know until it was far too late.
Without another word, he left the room. Left alone, she dressed herself slowly.
Three years ago, I intended to ask for your hand. If he had done it, she would not have wanted it—and yet, she could not help but think about how different things would be if he had. Would things be better? Perhaps so; she could have bridged the gap between Luke and Aemond. That alone would have certainly changed a great many things.
Perhaps the time on the island had driven her mad, but she felt her bare feet pad along the floor until she found Aemond in the bedroom. Again, he looked achingly human. His bony ankles were visible beneath of cuff of his breeches, and his soft tunic was bunched up at the elbows. She stood in the doorway, merely watching. If he was aware of her presence, he gave no indication, and even if he was; he was surely unaware of how entranced she was by the way his hair fell in silken sheets around his shoulders. He was as severe as he was beautiful.
“Answer me this,” she said, breaking the silence.
His shoulders drew taut as he slowly turned to face her.
“What makes you believe you could never have me?”
He scoffed. “Our families are at war. Even before, it would have never been possible.”
She would have agreed to it, had the matter been raised. Seeing him in such mundanity, tending to animals and reading under the low light of the candles, made it impossible to hate him. He was no enemy. He was merely a man led astray, but his heart was good and his soul nowhere near as black as he would like her to believe.
“Do not think of our families,” Daena said. “Think only of yourself and how you feel. That is how you take care of yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”
Fingers curling into the material of the chemise at her thighs, Daena pushed past him and began to pull at the bed covers. Whatever she had been thinking before, it was a spark of delusion and madness. Clearly he could not see past his inflated sense of self, and he never would. And she was merely entertaining it because she was bored. Grimacing, she fluffed violently at her pillow.
His long and slender fingers wrapped around the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her towards him without any sense of warning. She was not proud of the gasp she let out in response; sharp and high-pitched. The sapphire embedded in his eye socket—the sapphire she had given him—glinted in the candlelight. He was so close.
“Could I have had you?” he asked, voice low and rushed.
“I would not have minded if you asked,” she answered.
Aemond’s grip on her tightened, and if he clenched any harder she was sure bruises would begin to take form. She considered, briefly, smacking him away, but she did not mind the weight of his grip in all truth. She and Sarya often gripped one another in far greater passions. Besides, she liked seeing Aemond unfurled.
“I have always known what you are, Aemond,” Daena whispered.
“And what am I, my lady?”
“A strange boy with a crush,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I have always been more than fond of strange things.”
She really ought to have expected it after goading him, but his kiss shocked her all the same. His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, sideways down her chin, as though he were unused to the act. Adjusting, she tilted her head to the side to turn the kiss into a proper one. His hands, clutching her hips in a vice, burned at her skin through her chemise. Enthralled by the feeling, she curled her fingers around the sides of his neck, bringing one hand up into the roots of his hair.
However inexperienced he was, he made up for it in enthusiasm. Aemond grasped at her, trailing all across her body as though he were attempting to create a map of her bones. She pushed up onto her toes, tightening her grip on his hair, and gnashed her teeth into his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down just beyond gently. When his mouth fell open, she slipped her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hips jolted against hers as a sharp gasp tumbled from his lips.
“Are you going to take me or not?” she mumbled against his neck.
“Please,” he gasped out as she scraped her teeth against his skin.
“Do you want me, Aemond?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me,” she whispered, tugging on his hair. “How do you want me?”
He groaned, low and guttural; rigid against her. His grip only tightened.
“I want—” His head fell forward, atop hers. “I want to taste you.”
Daena pulled away from Aemond, a wicked grin spreading across her full and swollen lips. Holding eye contact, she stepped backwards until she was sat upon the edge of the bed. Then, with Aemond’s attention captured entirely, she spread her legs and pulled the hem of her chemise up slowly, tantalizingly.
“Get on your knees, then,” she said.
Aemond fell without a blink. His fingertips traced along her ankles and then slowly crept up her leg, flexing his entire palm against her skin once he reached her thighs. She could feel his breath against her, his mouth open but still so terribly far from latching onto her as she wanted him to.
“My prince,” she groaned, reaching for the top of his head. “Please.”
He complied, pressing his tongue flat to her. There was no hesitation in his actions; he licked with confidence and precision, shocking her because she struggled to imagine him experienced. He groaned against her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and pulling her as close to his face as possible. She was unable to keep the shrill moan from escaping her throat.
“Aemond,” she gasped. It was a breathy sort of thing, pulled in a wisp from her lungs. “Use… fingers!”
Ever the apt listener, he dipped a single finger into her. The moan she let out then was a pitched and trilling squeal. His single finger was the size of two of Sarya’s and reached to far deeper places than Sarya’s petite hands had been able to reach. He pumped the finger in and out, slowly and surely, and grinned against her. Two more fingers then, shoved inside her at once. She collapsed backwards onto the bed with a loud moan. He was relentless in his ministrations, going at a rapid pace until she was writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Swiping her arm over her forehead, she pushed herself up to look down at him.
His face was covered in her, glistening in the flickering, dying light. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and yanked at it to get it off him. Catching on, he moved to help her. There was a heavy silence between them, but he moved onto the bed—hovering over her—without her even needing to tell him what she wanted.
She stared up at him, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair hung down in a silky curtain, framing his face. Palms shaking, she reached up and pressed her hand to his face. She arched her neck up and brushed her lips softly, gently, tenderly over his scarred forehead. The sapphire buried within his eye socket seemed to glow, keeping her attention rapt. Her thumb trailed along the underside of his eye, brushing against his long lower lashes. He was silent in her arms, stoic above her.
Afraid to speak, lest she say something too intimate, too weak, too revealing, she pulled his face down and licked herself from his lips. His teeth gnashed against her lip as though he wanted to swallow her whole. Briefly, as she fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, she thought she might let him. They did not speak, not even as she pushed him up against the headboard and sat herself on his lap. He was hard against her inner thigh, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she tugged his mouth down to her neck. He licked, bit, and sucked at the flesh, drawing heavy gasps for air from her lungs.
Chemise sticking to her with sweat, Daena pushed him back to begin ripping at the strings to get it off her. Aemond picked up on it and yanked the shift roughly over her head. His eye flickered down to her heaving breasts and a spike of confidence shot through her when she noticed how his cheeks flushed a darker shade at the sight.
“Daena,” he gasped out, voice heady and broken. “I… want—”
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she promised, moving her hands to cradle his face.
Pulling him in for another angry kiss, she shifted her hips so that she could sink herself down onto him. It was a sensation she had never felt before, reaching places she had never known existed. Tears she did not quite understand burned in her eyes, but she continued to sink down until there was nowhere else for her to go. A groan that sounded more animal than human burst from her as she collapsed against his chest. His hands were hot as coals against her thighs, fingers sure to leave burnt impressions.
Delirious, she dropped her forehead against his and began to move her hips in slow, rocking circles. He swore quietly, tightening his grip on her legs.
“Seven… hells,” he grunted.
She continued until she found a pace that cut her breath off at the base of her throat, where the tip of him hit a place deep within her that caused her vision to go black and her jaw to go slack.
“Aemond.” She exhaled his name, unable to think of anything else but the man beneath her. She wanted to burrow herself within him and find a home within his bones, tucked into his ribs. Every bit of him had invaded her, and she was loath to let it end. This bubble they had created; she wanted it to exist for as long as she could sustain it. Here, they were leagues away from the people they had been and the circumstances that brought them to this island. Here, they were just Alyse and Jack. Here, they were free.
She let him spill within her after she reached her peak, and then collapsed once more against him. It was easy to fall asleep, exhausted and spent, within his arms.
Daena awoke with the first light of morning, as she always did. Naked and sticky with the dried sweat of the night before, she and Aemond were still tangled together; his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She was flooded with a wretched sort of feeling, unable to bear being within his grasp. As gently as she could, she removed herself from his arms and reached down to the floor for her chemise. She dressed quickly and sprinted away from the room.
Unsure if it was more shame or guilt that was flooding through her, she tucked herself into one of the armchairs by the unlit fire and stared into the blackened hearth. If she ever got away from here—if they ever got away from here—how could she possibly hope to look her family in the eye? How could she face Luke, knowing she had sworn to give the uncle who tormented him anything he wanted whilst in the thralls of passion.
A mistake, she decided. That is all it was. A mistake driven from flaring tempers and boredom. That was all it could be; nothing more.
Even so, she could not help but wish in the deepest and darkest depths of her soul for the opportunity to make the mistake again.
A noise from the bedroom informed her that Aemond had woken up. When he came into the main room of the house, their eyes met. After perhaps a moment too long, he tore his gaze away from hers and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and stalked back into the bedroom with that infuriating slow strut of his.
They did not speak that day, nor the next. Daena resigned herself to sleeping curled up in the armchair, drawing idly on loose slips of parchment she found around the house until she fell asleep. She mourned the tenuous friendship they had begun to restore in the days past as she did her best to ignore the growing knot in her neck from sleeping in the chair. It truly felt as though they were destined to be on opposing sides, never to truly know each other. She wished he never told her he wanted to marry her. Now, her mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. It was also how she knew him a liar; if he did not dwell on the past, then he would have forgotten the matter entirely. But he had not, and so she knew he did care.
She would have agreed, she thought to herself as she drew Vermithor’s scales. If he had asked her, she would have married him. It was a terrifying, fleeting thought— and perhaps it was a betrayal of Luke, of Sarya, and, now, of Jace. Still, she could not deny that she liked Aemond well enough. She had been fond of him even when they were children and he smashed her head with a rock. She enjoyed his presence, despite his generally unpleasant demeanor. He was a friend, and she would have liked to marry a friend. She could have been happy in a marriage of friendship. If he had been allowed, she would have accepted.
But perhaps he was correct, and there was no use on dwelling on these things. What did it lead to but unhappiness?
She was curled up in a chair by the fire while Aemond tended to the barn animals, proving once more that he cared far more deeply for things than he liked to pretend. She flipped the page of the parchment back to the portrait she had drawn of Aemond while he slept. In the sketched plains of his face, she could see the strange and innocent boy beneath the cruel man. Pursing her lips, she tore the page and crumpled it. Just as he said, no use in dwelling on things she could not change.
He entered in with a wet gust of wind behind him. He made a grumbling noise as he kicked off his boots and undid the cloak, which really only served to make her laugh. He glared in her direction and stalked off, likely to wash up from being in the barn. Heaving a great sigh, Daena got out of the chair to scrounge together a meal for them. They ate like the smallfolk in Flea Bottom, and Daena was miserable for it. Their lack of communication made the bland food all the worse.
She brought the pot of stew to the hearth and let it come to a boil. Mariyah, in all her elderly wisdom, had planned on a long hurricane season and had gathered enough produce to last them the entirety of it. Aemond emerged from the washroom just as she was removing the pot from the fire. She offered him a tight smile and averted her eyes to began spooning stew into bowls for them to eat.
They sat silently on opposite sides of the table, pointedly not looking at each other. It made her want to scream and cry and rip her hair from its roots and throw the bowl at him. It was suffocating, and she just wanted to be done with it.
It was he, who broke their days-long silence, pushing his bowl away from him and leaning back against the chair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, “for taking advantage the other night. It was… unworthy of me.”
Daena stared at him blankly, astounded. Then, a laugh that could be classified as nothing other than a cackle burst from her lips. His lips pursed at the sound, clearly displeased by her reaction.
“That is what you apologize for?” she asked, gasping for breath between words. “Oh, Aemond… I am hardly a blushing maiden.”
At that, a flush crept up his cheeks.
“The other night might have been a moment of weakness that can and will never happen again, but you did not take advantage.”
“Well, I apologize nonetheless.” His cheeks were flushed with blood. “And, yes. Never again.”
She bit the inside of her cheeks as her mind cycled through all the motions of their mistake. As far as mistakes go, it had been her most enjoyable one.
“You ought to sleep in the bed again,” Aemond said after another long silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I can tell your neck is bothering you.”
Her hand flew to the crook of her neck on instinct. She ripped it away just as quickly.
“I’m quite fine.”
“Then allow me to take the chair or floor.”
“No, that is not necessary,” she insisted, turning away from him to stare out the window. The rain beat mercilessly on the glass. Like it was trying to bring not just the home, but the entire island down. “You sustained more injuries than I did in the fall, and the fault for that lies in my hands.”
She chose to leave out the fact that it was his actions that forced her hand, because at this point that was neither here nor there.
“Then perhaps I sleep in the other room—”
“Mariyah just died on that bed!” Daena exclaimed, half scandalized. She was tired of this conversation. “We will continue as we have.”
“Daena, you cannot—”
“And yet, I will!” she shrieked. Instantly embarrassed, she sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back around to face him. “It is different for me.”
He said nothing, merely staring at her. Gods, how he infuriated her, how he wiggled beneath her skin and stuck there, how he could see right through her.
“If anyone were to discover we were here alone, you would be perfectly fine. I would be…” She thought back to what he hissed at her when he woke. “Ruined.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on.
“Our mistake, for you, is a story to tell someday. For me, it is nothing less than betrayal.”
“Betrayal.” He scoffed, a sudden glint of venom in his iris. “And what do you call my part, then? Do I not betray my family every moment you remain breathing?”
“Kill me, then, and be done with it!” Daena threw her hands up. “Please, I beg you. Do it, because I will never be able to kill you as I know I ought to.”
He blinked at her, stunned into silence by her manic plea. Frustrated tears brimming in her eyes, Daena stomped away from him and into the washroom. She sank to her knees and remained there until she heard no sounds of movement. Praying that it meant Aemond was asleep, Daena crept out and back into the main room.
She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Aemond fast asleep on the very armchair she had made her bed the last few nights. One leg was propped up on the cushioned footrest while the other was sprawled onto the floor. Even in her hatred of him— if she could call it that— she was touched by the display. There was hope for him yet, goodness that bubbled beneath the surface. In an effort to repay the kindness, she grabbed a quilt from the chest by the fireplace and laid it over his lap.
They had perhaps left things worse than they ever were before between them, but Daena would deal with those consequences once morning came. Now, she was bone weary and just wanted to sleep. She slept like the dead once her head hit the pillows, though in her dreams Aemond’s face taunted her. In the morning, she woke with a deep, aching need between her legs. Disgusted with herself, Daena kept herself confined within the walls of the bedchamber until she thought she might collapse from hunger. When she pulled the door open, however, she found herself face-to-face with Aemond—a plate of food and mug of mead in hand. His mouth fell open just a bit as she tripped herself to avoid walking right into him.
“You have not eaten,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is getting late… I thought you might like some food.”
“Thank you,” she said, unable to do much anything else than focus on his lavender iris boring into her. “How very thoughtful, my prince.”
“Aemond,” he said suddenly. “Just— Call me Aemond.”
Oh.
“Very well,” she said. “Aemond.”
“I wanted to thank you… for the blanket last night.” He shuffled closer infinitesimally. The mug was shaking ever so slightly in his clenched fist. “And, I was thinking… here, we can just be…”
She pulled the plate and mug from his hands and dropped them onto the small table in the room, discarded to be forgotten. Sighing, she pushed her braids over her shoulder and turned back to him. Did she haunt his dreams as he did hers?
“We can just be… what, Aemond?”
“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it thrice. “You said to take what I want.”
A whirling thrill spiked in her blood, the ache inside of her leading her straight to him.
“A mistake it might be, but what does it matter?” he asked. “We are alone.”
“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted.
Taking him to her bed once, twice, or however many times mattered not so long as it ceased once they returned to where they belonged. She just liked to see him finally breaking free of that hardened shell he encased himself in. He kissed her, then, and she forgot all about her hunger for food. All she hungered for was him. His fingers yanked at the curls at the base of her skull, forcing her head back so that he could kiss down her jaw and neck.
There were no words shared between them. Perhaps that would be too personal, too indicative of their wrongdoing. Neither took the time to undress, merely hiking up her chemise and shoving down his breeches. They fell backwards onto the bed just as he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth, digging her nails into his cheekbones and looping her legs around his waist to pull him close.
They continued at that pace until they were fully spent; collapsed upon one another. Daena yawned loudly, reaching her hand out to grab hold of the apple Aemond put on the plate for her. The generosity of it did not escape her; those apples seemed to be the only thing that made him even a shade of content. She took several bites of it before offering it out to Aemond. As though it were a natural sort of thing to do. And he took a bite from her hand, half convincing her this were a dream. When the apple was nothing but a discarded core and the bread nothing but crumbs, it was Daena who pounced on Aemond. Now that she had been given a taste, she was insatiable. And it seemed, so was he.
But, it was more languid this time. He did not hurry himself as he mouthed at her neck and began to pull at the strings on her chemise. She wanted to touch him, but quickly lost all means to do so when he pulled her chemise off and began to kiss down her torso. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and delirium flooded her veins as she became enthralled in the pleasure she wrought from him.
“Seven Hells,” she groaned out, tossing her head back against the pillows.
She could feel Aemond’s lips curl upwards into a smile as he traced his tongue along her hip bone in response.
Much later, when they had tired themselves out entirely, he laid himself down beside her, resting his head on her bare chest. It was strange, how easy it was to simply be with him— and it terrified her as much as it befuddled her. But, then, it had always been easy with Aemond. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, pressed closer than close. Daena had never slept better in her life.
“I would never ruin you,” he spoke quietly against her collarbone one night some weeks later. She had long since stopped keeping track of the days as they passed, dreary and thunderous as they were.
Daena stilled beneath him. “What?”
“Your reputation,” he said, “I would never allow it to fall to ruin.”
For some reason, she believed him and kissed him hard on the mouth for the first time outside the thralls of passion. He returned the kiss with vigor and they fell asleep in the middle of it, which she had also never done before.
When morning came, she awoke to a thunderous roar outside her window. Gasping, she shot up and looked around, scrambling to pull her chemise over her head. She knew that roar. Barefoot and without any protection from the weather, she sprinted outside, past Aemond who was slowly blinking his eyes and sitting up from the commotion she caused. Toes digging into the mud, Daena ran from the house to Vermithor.
His bronze scales were like the rays of the sun amidst all the rain. Grinning, she flung herself forward.
“My brave boy,” she wept, pressing her forehead to his snout.
He snuffed and knocked his snout against her head. Laughing, she kissed one of his horns and stepped back to examine him.
“How is your wing, hm?” she asked, walking around to take in his form.
He flared his wings out as though to prove he was in perfect condition. She reached her hand out to stroke the wing that had been injured when they took down Vhagar. She could see the scar tissue, but the tendons were healed and strong. She could go home. As though sensing her realization, he tilted his head back, opened his jaws wide, and screeched so loud that the trees shook. His hind legs stomped the ground, as though he were preparing for takeoff. It was everything she wanted to hear.
“What are you doing?” Aemond shouted, standing in the threshold of the doorway.
Vermithor’s neck snaked around and he positioned himself firmly between Daena and Aemond. He remembered Aemond from the attack, and he did not trust the prince. Laughing at her dragon’s protection, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the underside of Vermithor’s jaw. He grumbled quietly and settled.
“Umbagon,” she ordered before walking back to the house.
Aemond was staring at her like he found her mad. At least that had not changed. She pushed her wet braids from her face.
“Vermithor is healed,” she said.
“I can see that,” he said. He held out a large blanket for her. “Come inside.”
Feeling the chill suddenly, she stepped in and allowed him to pull the blanket over her shoulders. His hands stayed on her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arms to help warm her. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. His face was pulled taut and there was concern evident, his lips pursed as he took care to help her dry off.
“What?” he asked, seeing that she was staring.
She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “It’s nothing.” She smiled to herself and tilted her head to the side. “Well, it is nice to see you care.”
He frowned. “When have I ever given you the impression I do not care for you?”
That response took her by surprise. It was shockingly earnest, coming from him— but that had been a running theme with him in the last few days.
“Aemond,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his scarred cheek.
It was absurd and utterly mad of her, but a sudden shot struck her like lightning. It would be so very easy to love him. Her love for Sarya had not lessened in her time on the island, but there was merely more space in her heart than she once thought. She would never be able to pursue it, of course. She was betrothed and he… Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer. And all that to say, she still wanted him. Something sinister had overtaken her in the last three moons, sunken its claws into her skin and dripped its poison onto her tongue.
She was fond of him, desired him, enjoyed him, but she had a duty now that Vermithor was in flying condition. Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer, and she needed to bring him to justice.
“I will come quietly,” he said softly, reaching out and gingerly curling the loose end of one of her braids around his finger. She had a keen memory of her own fingers wrapped in his hair. “I will surrender and bend the knee if that is what you wish.”
“What I wish?” she echoed. “And what of your wishes?”
It was as though the island emboldened him, pulled apart his strong defenses and left him bare but more confident than she had ever seen him.
“I wish for whatever will keep me in your life, my lady.”
“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.
She was not immune to the effects of dashing confessions made, easily swept up in the romance of it all. It was her most foolish trait, but being aware of it did not subdue it. It only made her aware of the breadth of stupidity she was capable of.
“You took my eye. You took my dragon. Take my heart as well; it is yours.”
Her cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze and words. Mouth dry, she crafted the most intelligent response she could muster.
“I did not take your eye.”
He shrugged, as though his reasoning were the only sort that made sense. Perhaps he would have preferred it to have been her. Their injuries were settled like scores, canceling the other out— even if he had gotten off far worse than she had. In his mind, it should have been her, and so it was it seemed. Or that he held her in just as much blame as he did Luke.
“And as for Vhagar—” Her own voice betrayed her, choking off in an unbecoming squeal. “I wish I could have stopped you without killing her.”
Aemond looked away from her then, finally pulling his face from her palm. She tucked her hand back under the blanket he provided her as quickly as she could so as though it were never there in the first place. Then, he surprised her yet again.
“I know.” It was a simple thing. “I forgave you a long time ago.”
She furrowed her brow, a million and one questions racing about her mind, but she kept them to herself.
“You will come without fight or argument?” she asked slowly.
“I will,” he confirmed.
Bewildered and pleased alike, Daena observed him for a moment before ultimately deciding he seemed honest.
“Then we must dress. It is at least a half day’s flight from here to Dragonstone.”
They did not speak again as they readied themselves for departure. What was there to say, really? They had, for better or worse, betrayed their families and themselves by falling into bed with one another, and now fate had come knocking. They both knew that on Dragonstone he would likely face imprisonment at best. There was always the threat of execution, but Daena was not sure Rhaenyra, even at her most bloodthirsty and vicious, had it in her to be a kinslayer. No, Rhaenyra would not take her brother’s head, but she might strip him of all titles and inheritance and send him to the Wall where he could never be a threat to her again. And rather stupidly, Daena did not wish for that. Perhaps this was what Aemond wanted all along; for her to trust him, to vouch for him, to be more than fond of him.
That decided it for her. Upon arriving to Dragonstone, what happened here on the island would fade into the past. She would dedicate herself to whatever war effort there was and accept her fate as Queen after Rhaenyra. “Whatever claim to the throne I have left, you are it’s heir now. Both of you.” Daena would never be able to forget the sheen of sweat covering the older woman’s body, the way her face was scrunched up in pain and her voice quivered as she laid out commands for her oldest son and Daena.
There was a truth about Daena Velaryon that Sarya had always seen: For her family, Daena would sacrifice anyone and anything, including herself, and let the entire world burn to ashes. And as Aemond perched himself behind her on Vermithor’s saddle without complaint, she wondered if he saw it too. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object, and whatever happens in the aftermath is only nature. And yet, Daena did not think she would go so quietly if the roles were reversed.
“Sōves, Vermithor!” Daena yelled as loud as she could over the violent winds and rain, already soaked through to the bone.
Without complaint or hesitance, Vermithor roared and took to the skies.
Aemond and her did not speak for entire flight, and Daena was glad for the silence as the black sand beaches of Dragonstone grew ever nearer. It had been a year’s quarter since she left Dragonstone for Storm’s End, and war had been brewing when she did. There was no telling what they would find when they landed.
#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x ofc#aemond targaryen x reader#team black#hotd au#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#cregan stark#jace x cregan#jacegan#jacaela#fic: fireplace ashes
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Hi! I’m sorry if you’ve already been sent this, but I wanted to share my thoughts! I think Armand chased Daniel and kept tabs on him after San Francisco, they had a past relationship. Now in present time, I don’t think Daniel remembers any of it, even after becoming a vampire those memories are still lost to him. I think for season 3 we might get Daniel interviewing Lestat (I think Lestat would like Daniel 😂). I hope we’ll get the scene of Daniel being turned and what happened immediately after Louis left the penthouse (maybe in season 3?). I do think we will get some scenes of them. A time jump happened (idk how long the editing and publishing for a book world), so maybe Daniel and Armand have a conversation/spent some time together or Daniel roasted Armand (as he should). I really wonder if we’ll get Luke back as young Daniel and have scenes of him and Armand in the 70s & 80s. I hope so, I really liked how he played younger Daniel and his chemistry with Assad.
I wonder if Daniel will chase Armand in present time since I think they had a past relationship and it was Armand who chased Daniel. How funny it would be if the roles were reversed now.
I love that Louis seems to be taking some time to find himself and how he redecorated the penthouse with bright colors. The friendship between Louis and Daniel, AH! I love it so much! The acting from everyone was amazing! I’m so excited for season 3! Who would you like to see as Akasha and how do you think they’ll do rockstar Lestat?❤️
Oh absolutely. Daniel was turned from love. I‘ll die on that hill^^
I‘m not sure who I would like to see as Akasha. There were a few fancasts a whilembacl, you can find them in the tag. But whoever it will be it will be perfect I bet, as every casting so far.
If they do rockstar Lestat in the present then it will be intermeshed with social media I bet. Either way I hope AMC sells fake band merch :)) And I hope we get a whole album!!!
I do think we will see both the past chase and the inverted present chase. I think that will be awesome, actually. With both us and Daniel finding out what happened and what is happening.
IF there is not even more going on… but we will see :))
#anonymous#ask nalyra#iwtv s2#interview with the vampire#iwtv#amc iwtv#amc interview with the vampire#armand#daniel molloy#the devil’s minion
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ebug's sister, dm91
taglist, @whenmypartysover
part one / part two /part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten /
blakefriarr_
liked by elblue6, _quinnhughes and 7,012 others
blakefriarr_: step one: meet lhughes
step two: witness television broadcast in which lhughes score ot winner
step three: fight jhughes for rights to lhughes
view 688 comments..
pinned! blakefriarr_: ellen liked i can die happy
jackhughes: you cannot have my little brother blake
→ blakefriarr_: try and stop me
lhughes_06: i for one think jack should let you take over
→ _quinnhughes: she made you the mac and cheese dish?
→ lhughes_06: quinn now is NOT the time
→ blakefriarr_: cookies too
→ _quinnhughes: i better get cookies
→ jackhughes: this isn't hurtful at all
→ blakefriarr_: i know how to cater to my target audience (picky eaters with bottomless pits for stomachs)
dawson1417: you know what i'm here for
→ blakefriarr_: bro 😭😭😭😭😭
→ blakefriarr_: i've got, like, car insurance and gas and student loans
→ dawson1417: you also hate your job
→ blakefriarr_: i also hate planes
→ dawson1417: that argument makes no sense you already agreed to come up on your week off
→ blakefriarr_: hear me out
→ dawson1417: eyeballs are listening
→ blakefriarr_: i do the one week like we planned originally
→ dawson1417: right and then you never leave
→ blakefriarr_: incorrect
→ dawson1417: my eyeballs hated that
dawson1417: on another note you looked so pretty when you had jack in a headlock
→ jackhughes: HEY
→ blakefriarr_: thank you i try
nicohischier: this explains why i just found jack face down into my living room carpet
→ blakefriarr_: surely you know how to cheer him up
→ nicohischier: for the last time, jack and i are not dating
→ blakefriarr_: you and i both know this is not the last time, neeks.
ryangraves27: you should come to canada with dawson
→ blakefriarr_: mercer you give gravy his phone back right this instant
→ dawson1417: how’d you know
→ blakefriarr_: for one i could feel the tone of the comment and for another gravy would never want me in the same country as him
jj.friar31: what is my life
→ jj.friar31: what’d you do last night man? oh not much just hung out with my sisters friends (the new jersey devils!) and watched her ko jack hughes like it was nothing
→ blakefriarr_: ahagahheheheg
adamfantilli: am i not enough for you
→ blakefriarr_: you live all the way over there
→ adamfantilli: the betrayal is unreal
→ blakefriarr_: stfu <3 love you
→ adamfantilli: ouch. love you too
dougieham: did you win
→ blakefriarr_: what a dumb question of course i won its jack
_eliaspettersson: if jack doesn’t give you luke could i interest you in another elias pettersson (rookie edition)
→ blakefriarr_: i would be interested in rookie elias pettersson and long lost hughes brother cole mcward if in stock
→ _quinnhughes: you’re not getting cole
→ blakefriarr_: nobody asked you quintin
drayanewman: i have something inappropriate to say
→ blakefriarr_: do elaborate
→ drayanewman: … no
→ lhughes_06: wait no elaborate
→ blakefriarr_: ohhhhhhhhhh i am going to be so annoying about this
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#dawson mercer#dawson mercer x reader#hockey imagine#nhl imagine#new jersey devils#young wild & free au !
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