#not only was he never a bastard he was an eldest boy! eldest surviving boy with those pesky half-dornish sibs gone! point missed.

[ladystoneboobs]

no of fence to jon snow fans who for some reason care about his exact age, but these discussions just annoy me no end. not only bc there's no way any weirwood flashbacks bran has to rhaegar/lyanna will come with time/datestamps, but also bc there's always comments like this:

SEVERAL turns of the moon (ie, months)?! have these people never seen a human baby before or just have no concept of their ages? even if we take into account travel time from the toj to wf, meaning jon was not a newborn too fresh out the oven when catelyn and robb arrived, there's still a difference between a newborn and a 3mo and an even bigger difference between those infants and an older baby 5-7mo. there's very good reasons these lines were cut. whatever birthdates can be worked out internally for jon and robb from when they're first mentioned as 15 and 16 don't matter in the end, bc grrm doesn't care about a consistent timeline and the actual text of catelyn's pov and ned's convo with robert about cheating on her should outweigh any guesstimates about jon's official nameday wrt robb's. catelyn may not have cared for jon, but she would sure as hell have noticed his nameday if it came before robb's and made him ned's firstborn. if jon's birthday canonically came before robb's then either ned's cover story would not involve adultery (not impossible for him to sire a bastard before his wedding), or he'd just give jon a new nameday along with his new name to fit the adultery lie. it makes no sense for him to lie about one and not the other, undermining the big lie with a little public clue of his story not adding up. whatever else she was as a stepmother, cat wasn't stupid and a bastard who was actually the eldest son being raised alongside her trueborn heir could be an even bigger insult than whether he was born of adultery or not.

BUT, the unknowability of jon's true birthday is not the only reason this annoys me, it's bc this is all based on the assumption that jon must be older since rhaegar/lyanna ran off together before ned married cat, as if both boys must have been conceived asap as robb canonically was when his parents consummated their marriage. and that's not how human reproduction works! even if you don't understand how fast babies grow in the first year, you should know that people who get pregnant do so through ovulation cycles and a lucky sperm finding an egg and all that, not just immediately getting knocked up as soon as one has p-in-v sex for the first time. not unless you only know mean girls sex ed where if you have sex you will get pregnant and die. (even tho lyanna did die, there's plenty of canon examples where pregnancy did not lead straight to death. also examples of people who did not get pregnant right away and even some who are/were sexually active and childless without always having moon tea on hand.) we can't know how long lyanna was having sex before that sperm+egg match happened or even how long she was with rhaegar before losing her technical virginity. if they were married, doesn't it make sense to think they didn't consummate their relationship until the wedding night either? that's the only leverage there is to ensure a status as wife rather than just mistress.

and while i just said grrm doesn't care about exact timelines and a lot is still foggy surrounding the rebellion and esp rhaegar, there is one timemarker wrt robert's rebellion he voluntarily threw in, time and time again: that stannis was besieged at storm's end for almost a whole year. that siege, which mind you, did not match the duration of the entire war. it only started after robert won his battles at gulltown and summerhall, returned to storm's end, and then went out and lost the battle of ashford, leaving his homeland open to the reachermen. the same siege which only ended when ned made a detour there after the sack of king's landing, before going to the toj. even if lyanna may not have given birth that exact day ned found her, she could only be waiting in that bloody bed for weeks at the most, not months. so if rhaegar knocked her up the very same night he carried her off and jon was still a newborn when ned found her after the siege of storm's end had ended, wouldn't that mean lyanna was pregnant for well over a year? that's not how human pregnancy works either! so, maybe that's proof that jon and robb, whichever order they were actually born in, were actually very close in age as babies, much closer than if they were both conceived asap.

and really, jon's actual birthdate does not matter imho, when he was raised not just as the bastard to robb's trueborn heir, but with robb also known by catelyn and the world as ned's firstborn (which he was, in any case, as jon was ned's nephew by birth). what difference could a birthdate before robb's make (even were there some means of discovery) after ned, cat, and robb are all dead? if one is looking only at his birth parents then he's only a firstborn child on lyanna's side, but definitely a second son on rhaegar's side. maybe he was always meant to be a second son with a not much older half-brother! even if the aegon fka young griff is not in fact rhaegar's son, he'll still be known as aegon vi targaryen, meaning jon will never be known as any father's elder son. if i may reference mean girls again, it's not going to happen.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓣𝓲𝓮𝓼

Aemond Targaryen x Bastard-Targaryen Oc    

Summary: Aemond had never felt the emotion that she meade him feel, and he had never felt such bitterness when she left him. But when he was able to see her again years later, he couldn't let her run away again. Never again.

A/N: I hope you all gonna like it. It is quite a long fic. Also it contains smut, so please be aware of that part and don't read it if you're minor.

English is not my native language, so I am sorry for any mistakes.

Part 2

A child's life should never be easy. But how much Daenaera wanted it to be otherwise.

Being not only an half-orphan but a bastard was exhausting enough. The streets of King's Landing were not safe for girls like her, they were not safe for any girl.

Daenaera hasn't lived her whole life that way, no.

She used to have a house, small but it was still hers. She lived with her mother and three siblings and her stepfather, who, learning about her true origin, nearly killed her, throwing her onto the doorstep so that at the age of eight she could cope as an adult.

Disguised as a boy, she tried to survive, always somehow managed, until she fell under the feet of King Viserys's daughter.

Rhaenyra was going on one of her secret journeys then, just like years ago with her uncle. But she wasn't expecting a child to run into her while running away from a bunch of boys.

Due to the force of impact, the brown cap fell from the child's head, revealing waves of snow-white locks that fell freely on her shoulders.

The princess did not believe what she saw, but looking at the icy blue irises of the girl who was looking at her intensely with hidden flames so deep inside her, she was convinced of their distant relationship.

Daenaera had never been so terrified in her life. She wasn't sure why she'd agreed to go with the woman to the castle. Maybe it was because of the softness of her voice, maybe becuse it was better everywhere than on the street.

Sitting in a fair-haired bedroom, she stared at the landscape outside the window before her eyes moved to the opening door, in which the king himself stood with her eldest daughter.

At first Viserys thought he had seen Aemma. He still remembered their first encounters as children, and her reflection sat on Rhaenyra's bed, only dirtier and scared.

His pale face twisted into a gentle smile, and his eyes were filled with the first little tears. The girl was watching him as intensely, only to look at the nearby princess who came up to her, standing next to her and placing one of her hands on her shoulder.

- Aemma - the ailing king whispered.

-This is the girl I told you about -the purple-eyed woman said, avoiding the subject of her dead mother- I'm sure she has our blood in her. She is one of us.

Daenaera wanted to question many things, tell them the truth, but she kept silent, just watching.

-What do you want me to do with that information Rhaenyra? We are not sure, and bringing an unknown child from the street will not do any good - said her father, although his eyes told a completely different story.

-Even her name. Why would she have a Valyrian name? - she asked, trying to convince her father.

-Why do you want to take her, daughter? - asked the king.

-I do not want to leave her alone on the street - she confessed after a long moment - I will take care of her like my own daughter. We owe her that.

White-haired girl wanted to say that it's not true. They didn't owe her anything, they didn't know her, but the woman's soothing touch made her body finally feel relaxed, calm. So in the next moment she was pressed against Rhaenyra, her forehead resting on her stomach.

-I don't want to go back there - she confessed quietly, closing her eyes in fear of rejection.

-You won't - the woman assured in a soft voice, stroking her hair and glancing at Viserys, who only sighed, his heart being his greatest asset as well as his greatest curse.

Two years have passed since the girl was taken into the care of Princess Rhaenyra Targareyn. She grew up with her two sons Lucerys and Jacaerys, who surprisingly quickly accepted her as their sister, not leaving her even for a step.

Her new family loved and defended her, proving their true intentions at every turn. Blue-eyed girl often questioned their actions, but her mother always shooed that thoughts away, which made Daenaera unknowingly come closer and closer to the point that she did not leave her foster mother side, feeling the safest in her embrace.

Violet-eyed woman felt the same emotions, becoming very close to the child, protecting her from the eyes of Queen Alicent and her three children. She couldn't do that with her sons, they were princes, and her father wanted the boys raised together, but Daenaera's nature made her quiet, almost distrustful, and Rhaenyra used it to her advantage.

The fair-haired child did not mind this, she preferred the older company and blamed her stepfather for it, because she couldn't longer perceived the joy in her childhood activities, often wandering around the garden or reading thick , old books.

This is why she was named the White Flower in honor of her snow-white hair and delicate like flower-petals personality.

Aemond sometimes had wonder if her title fully applieded to her. As a second son, he was often overlooked, lonely. So he observed her. And the sight of the princess, watched over by Harwin Strong himself, aroused his interest, growing more and more, so much so that the boy desperately waited for the moment when Daenaera was alone to be able to speak with her ,even if it was meant to be a single word.

Her blue and ice-cold eyes did not match the warm tone of her voice and red lips, which he found even more beautiful up close. The king's son found a common language with her, amazed at how good a listener the girl next to him was, ready to hear him without hesitation. But he quickly found that he preferred to listen to her rather than speak. Aemond's ear may have faded from the amount of words that came into him, but his mind was never fed up.

Their friendship was a secret, something forbidden. Their mothers could not find a common language with each other while putting their children on opposite sides of the wall they had built over the years.

And that was one reason their relationship collapsed. Aemond could've claimed the greatest dragon, he could've been injured and lose an eye, but the moment Alicent tried to attack Daenaery's siblings, injuring their mother during the process, everything in between them was lost. The Blacks and the Greens formed their sides, and the little girl joined her mother without hesitation, silently announcing that she would live and fight by her side, ignoring the young Targaryen's wounded heart, which had not fully healed even after the middle of a decade.

At that time, Daemon Tragaryen and his two daughters Baela and Rhaena joined her family. The man, to the surprise of many, treated Daenaera the same as her mother. He was just as loving and caring but much more dangerous.

The blue-eyed girl has matured over the years, turning into a beautiful woman with the same delicate features and blue irises. In addition, the egg she had received from the king himself had recently hatched upon their arrival at Dragonstone, making it a legitimate and worthy Targaryen.

Meraxes and she were inseparable, from the day the reptile was born, she spent time on the girl's shoulder, never leaving her, even for a moment, as Daenaera used to do with Rhaenyra. 

Their siblings liked to mock her and called her the mother of dragons because of her approach to the animal, but the white-haired girl did not mind in any way.  Deep dwon she was proud of the title and the fact that, even as a bastard, the dragon's blood still ran strongly in her veins.

The wind in her hair, the warm sun, the sound of the sea, and the flapping of wings were a sweet tune that young Targaryen genuinely loved.

She called it her personal definition of freedom.

Soaring above the bright clouds, she dove down as quickly as she appeared above them. The sea landscape stretched out beneath her body.

Blue eyes followed everything around her until Dragonstone appeared in the distance, towards which the young woman was heading. Passing through small islets, she flew past the stone structure before ordering Meraxes to land. The reptile's wings swirled in the air, scattering the blades of grass to the sides, her dragon may have been small, but it had a lot of strength in it.

As she descended from the dragon, she was greeted with the sight of Jacaerys standing near them.

-What are you doing here? - asked the girl, after a moment grabbing one of the gloves in her teeth to take it off her hand.

-We're going to King's Landing soon - he confessed, and she frowned in consternation.

Daenaera turned her head towards her companion.

-Jikagon riña (Go girl) - she said, patting her neck before she spread her wings above the ground.

The fair-haired girl did not miss a small murmur of irritation, which made her want to laugh. Valyrian has never been an easy language, especially for those who have not met it since birth, but the girl's hard work with her father made her use the old language extremely fluent, much to the discomfort of her younger brother.

-Mother told us to get ready - he continued, waiting for her to reach him.

-Sounds serious - his sister said, before a slight, malicious smile appeared on her face -But it does not stop you from irritating ,my dear brother.

-What do you mean?- He asked her, staring at her sparkling irises.

-Kessi sagon jēda skori kesā ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie lēkia (They will be time when you will speak high Valyrian brother) - notified Daenaera, staring straight ahead.

-Kosten ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie, mandia (I can speak High Valyrian, sister) - the brunet replied confidently.

-Kostan- the white-haired girl corrected him, and he looked at her stealthily, causing her to laugh.

-You know, you are supposed to be my wife, and the wife should support her husband, not stand against him - the boy noticed, watching as the facial expressions of her changed.

-It's just wishful thinking Jace. Nothing more -Rhaenyra's daughter announced before she quickened her pace, running away from further conversation.

The fair-haired girl's journey to King's Landing passed in silence. Standing away from her family members, she stared at the waves hitting the ship. Her peace of mind was disturbed when her parents decided to have a chat with her, as if sensing that something was bothering her young mind, but she reassured her that everything was fine, avoiding telling the truth.

When they finally arrived, no one knew about their presence in the castle. The courtyard was only filled with guards until one of the lords appeared at the door, surprised by their arrival.

Daemon and Rhaenyra visited King Viserys while the rest of the siblings were led into their chambers.

Daenaera did not stay long in it. Her curiosity forced her to leave the room. As she strolled through the corridors, she looked at the place she once called home. She tried to remember the way to the gardens, which had once been her favorite place.

As she walked forward, she watched her surroundings, noticing how many things had changed.

At one point, in the corner of her eye, she noticed something bright, contrasting with the dark corridors of Red Keep. Turning her eyes in that direction, she saw the man. He had long hair, he was tall, slim, but something mysterious and dark was beaming from him.

The girl frowned. She wondered who the stranger was, but when her eyes saw a leather band around the man's eye, she paused, speechless.

-Aemond?- she whispered, but he heard her anyway, her silky voice too hard to forget.

Boy in front of her turned fully towards her and she had to hold back a gasp that wanted to escape from her throat. Targaryen looked nothing like himself from years ago, he didn't even looked like a boy, but a man. His posture, clothes, face. He was radiating maturity.

Her uncle's eyes rested on her.

Her body was wrapped in a black dress that emphasized the figure of the white-haired girl, pushing her bust forward, on which rested a necklace with aquamarine in the middle, accentuating the color of her eyes. The snow-white hair was pulled back in a bun from which curly strands spilled out. She looked like a living masterpiece, something that should be forbidden, inaccessible to the ordinary eye.

Aemond narrowed their distance. The difference in height was significant as she tilted her head up and he tilted her head down so they could meet each other's eyes.

Neither of them spoke for a long time, only standing, facing each other. Daenaera's heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears, wondering if the boy could hear it as well.

-Niece -he replied after a long moment, shivers passed down her spine.

-It’s good to see you - Daemon's daughter confessed softly, suddenly losing all the remnants of her confidence.

-You too - he confessed, unexpectedly tucking a strand of her white hair behind her ear to find an excuse to move even closer so that his lips almost touched her ear - You look beautiful -he whispered, kissing her earlobe before he left without a word, disappearing out of Daenaera's view.

Suddenly, her original destination was long forgotten.

Blue-eyed girl stood by her mother's side, listening to political matters. She would have been bored if it weren't for the man who spoke about Driftmark's legitimate affiliation with her younger brother. Blood was boiling inside her as she heard sieges and slander about her family. Even the sudden arrival of the king, who was barely on his feet, did not help.

Everything in her was torn in different directions, the mind and heart could not reconcile with each other, so she stood stiffly, staring stubbornly at the swords adorning the iron throne.

-Her children are bastards! - suddenly there was a loud scream from Vaemond Velaryon -One that doesn't even belong to her, looks more like a Targaryen than her own sons! - he drawled through his teeth, and the girl closed her eyes, feeling anxiety penetrate under her skin - And she ... is a whore.

As the words left the man's mouth, everyone in the room held their breath, the atmosphere heavy, almost unbearable.

-For these words ... I'll take your tongue - Viserys announced menacingly, taking out his dagger.

But before he had time to execute his threat, Daemon's blade sliced the Lord's face in half. Daenaera stared at the severed piece of head until her mother grabbed her, shielding her body from seeing lying corpse.

-He can keep his tongue - her father said, but she no longer listened.

Holding on to Rhaenyra's arm, she waited for the end that came faster than she expected. Leaving the room under the care of her mother and siblings, she became absent, even more than usual.

The dead lord's words rumbled in her ears, reminding her of the painful truth. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she studied or how expensive dresses she wore, she was still someone else's bastard, raised by a family that wasn't really hers.

-I need to refresh- she whispered after a while to the fair-haired woman.

-Daenaera- began the princess, when she noticed a shadow of tears in her eyes - Do not listen to people who wish you to fall, do you understand? Nothing that was said towards us mattered.

-I know - she said with a slight smile. - I just want to freshen up -she repeated. -Calm down -she added before disappearing from Rhaenyra's sight.

The white-haired girl was pushing forward, without any specific target. She had missed her room a long time ago, eventually ending up in the royal gardens she had once so sincerely adored. Standing under Weirwood, she stared at the scarlet leaves aimlessly until she felt a presence behind her back.

One of the hands crept up on her hip, while the other gently grabbed her chin, twisting it to the side so that the girl's eyes could see behind her. Aemond was staring at her face, his eye closely watching the emotions bubbling inside her.

After a while the princess daughter felt the boy's thumb wiping away the tears running down her cheek, the ones she did not even notice, to bring their faces closer in the next moment, so that the noses of both touched each other.

-I do not like when you cry- he said with a surprisingly warm tone of voice -I would have killed him if my uncle had not been faster -he said suddenly, and she widened her eyes in surprise.

-You really changed- the girl whispered.

-As you did - he said, and she turned her head back, staring at the tree in front of them - I would like to show you something- he confessed after a long moment- Or actually someone.

Daenaera merely nodded her consent, allowing Aemond to lead her to the secret passage, right outside the city's outskirts. They both walked for a long time, until they were only surrounded by a meadow and a beach where the great reptile, Vhagar, was resting.

The girl widened her eyes, stopping in place. The dragon in front of her aroused interest in her as well as the fear that her own animal sensed. The sound of Meraxes echoed in her ears and a white dragon appeared in the sky.

-I believe he is yours - murmured the king's son.

-Yes- she replied, looking at her companion, who landed near them- She is very protective of me - girl added after she saw how creature was landing.

-When we were children, I promised you that I would fly with you on the back of a dragon whenever you wanted - he said nostalgically -But I see you don't need to stick to that promise any longer.

-I never said I didn't want to ride with you just because my dragon egg finally hatched - she remarked quickly -You are a Vhagar rider, it is an honor to fly with someone like you.

Targaryen led her towards the sleeping beast, which had time to open it's great eyes when they faced her. Reptile greeted her with a low grunt. Her hand involuntarily ran through the hot scales of a creature that was nothing like the monster that wreaked havoc so many years ago.

Aemond helped the blue-eyed climb up on the back, sitting behind her himself. Soon after, the dragon rose heavily and soared upward. Meraxes followed them, faithfully guarding her rider.

Daenaera, despite the fact that she flew so many times, felt as if it was her first time. As the old dragon's legs touched the ground, she could've feel her heart beating against her ribs, and pounded in her ears becuse of the amount of emotion.

-Where are we?-  asked Rhaenera's daughter.

-On some island, I believe -the boy said, helping her down.

-It seems deserted - said the white-haired girl, walking with Aemond, while their dragons were resting next to each other.

-It's good- he replied - Nobody will disturb us.

-With what exactly Aemond? - she asked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye - I can't believe we've gone, the gods know where to talk.

-You should believe it - he said, returning to his arrogant and cool disposition -We haven't seen each other for a long time.

-Exactly. We are different people - continued the blue-eyed stubbornly - The last thing I expect from you is a conversation.

-You're right - he said after a moment, stoping -I'm a different man, I've changed. I used to be afraid to hold your hand, but now I realized that if you want something in this world, you just have to reach for it - he announced before he grabbed her waist, pulling her into a sensual kiss, the heat of which almost burned her lips.

Her own hands rested in his long hair, trying to keep up with the purple-eyed, who was attacking her mouth in the sweetest way, causing her to just want more. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to cling to the body of the young man, whose own hands began to shamelessly wander across the fair-haired figure, stopping at the bindings of her dress.

After a while, heavy material began to slide down her shoulders, no longer protecting her naked body underneath. Aemond pulled it down without hesitation, too greedy to stop. His niece shivered at the cold air that enveloped her body, then sat down on her clothes.

Without a word, she broke the kiss, helping the boy in front of her remove the clothes that were in their way. Her hands were working quickly, impatiently wanting to see the white-haired man fully, but he stopped her by grabbing her cheek. She looked into his eye, waiting for the words that didn't came. Her uncle just smirked before attacking her naked neck.

A flush covered her cheeks as Aemond covered her skin with wet kisses. Daenaera had to bite her lip to keep the moans from escaping from her mouth. She felt a little nervous, she was not used to the kind of feeling that was flooding her veins now. The white-haired girl could not stop a sigh from escaping her mouth as the boy's cold fingers traveled over her skin. -You're so soft - he whispered lovingly.

-Aemond - blue-eyed moaned softly

The young woman had to close her eyes. His touch and the feeling of his irises against her skin made her dizzy, she hadn't expected it to be so intense for the first time.

-So beautiful...and only mine to be ruined- he said in a deep voice that sent shivers down her spine.

She lay down on the prince's silent command, closing her eyes in anticipation, and as soon as he began sucking and fingering her womanhood, all her worries left her mind.

-More. Please -she whispered between moans as he, taking his time, tortured her in a sweet manner.

Daenaera could've no longer control her mouth, her instincts taking over her body, making her want Targaryen with all her might.

She felt a strange feeling that she couldn't really put into words. Unknowingly she tightened around his fingers, and as her moans grew louder urging him even more, he began to add another finger, causing her to be almost on the verge of orgasm.

Her stomach was clenched, a strange feeling began to build up in her lower parts, blood began to rush to her ears. The white-haired girl's head fell back to the ground, her muscles tightened around his fingers.

-Cum for me - he muttered hoarsely.

When she did exactly that, her body stiffened, only to be picked up by the purple-eyed man who sat her on his lap moments later. The girl rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing deeply before Aemond started to move her again, this time directing her to his manhood. Daenaera felt her middle being ripped apart and she sobbed as she pressed against the young man's neck beneath her. The silver-haired boy stroked her back, trying to chase away the pain, and the same time trying to keep himself from pressing his hips into her's. After a long moment, the blue-eyed beauty began to slowly move her loins, letting Targaryen know that he could also move. He grabbed her thighs, lifting her body up and down, and she fully let him do it, feeling  the same familiar feeling warms her lower abdomen. They became one, and they both took full advantage of this feeling, too lost in each other to worry about the consequences. -Aemond - she gasped, tugging hard on his hair, making the prince growled loudly. -Let go - he said straight into her ear -Be a good little flower, and make a mess for me- he added, biting her neck.

Daenaera came almost screaming in ecstasy, causing Aemond to end up with her, unable to stop himself as her velvet walls pressed against him so deliciously and tightly.

Their eyes met in silent conversation until the young woman's soft lips rested on the prince's rough ones. -I missed you so much - she whispered before she pressed their foreheads together, drawing as much of the moment as she could.

The youngest son of the king breathed at her words, feeling the gap in his dark heart being filled with feelings for his beloved woman, which had been hidden for years, now ready to burst into flames.

[feyhunter78]

Description: During your Uncle Robert's Royal Procession, you find yourself enraptured with Ned Starks' bastard son. While Jon has never dreamed so vividly until your arrival, a thread seems to exist between you and him, pulling you together. Luckily for you both, your father Tyrion sees the need for a sworn sword in his beloved daughter's life.

You should know better, truly you should, but you’ve always had a weakness for pitiful-looking creatures, or at least that’s what your father has always said. He stands a pace ahead of you, watching as your uncle, the King Robert, embraces Lord Ned Stark with a boyish joy you have never seen in your uncle. Your Aunt Cersei stands to the side of them, smiling politely at the Lady Catelyn Stark, Joffery all but hanging from her skirts, demanding attention. Usually, you would scowl at the back of the boy’s head, but the sight of Ned Stark’s bastard son has you quite distracted.

He is pitiful, even his name, Jon, it’s so common, so often used it cannot differentiate him from others. He stands stiffly, with gray eyes so dark they almost seem black set beneath thick brows. He has curly dark hair that frames his face, an unchanging frown upon his face, and his hands clasp and unclasp nervously as he watches the mingling of your two families. Jon’s dressed like all the other Starks, but somehow lesser, as if he has chosen only the drabbest of colors in an effort to blend into the dreary landscape. There’s a solemn softness to him that intrigues you. What secrets does he keep? Why does he look so mired in grief? He notices your gaze, and his face tints pink as he ducks his head further into the fur collar of his cloak. You bite back a laugh, for a moment he looked like a turtle.

The boy beside him, Robb, stands an inch or so taller with cornflower blue eyes, and auburn hair. The clear son of Lady Catelyn radiates confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, as he surveys the servants unloading your family’s belongings from the wheelhouses. Beside him stands a boy whose arrogance you wouldn’t mistake for confidence, even if you were less astute than you are. But the arrogance rings false, you can see the cracks in his bravado, the insecurity leaking from every pore. It’s in the way he hovers so close to Robb, as if he fears to be away from him would be his undoing. This one you know inside and out; your father had drilled you on everyone you were going to meet before you even stepped foot outside King’s Landing.

Theon Greyjoy, last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, a war prisoner disguised as a ward, the closest companion to Robb Stark, both accepted and held at a distance, Lord Stark’s sword an ever-looming threat should his father ever revolt once more. Theon has eyes like the sea and tousled hair the color reminiscent of the mahogany desk in your father’s study. He is lankier than the other two, hungrier, and when your eyes meet his, he winks. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in response, you were a lady, a Lannister, you were not so easily swayed. Theon is handsome, but if your father’s reports were true, he spent much of his time in brothels. The tactics that worked there would not work on you.

“And this is my eldest daughter, Sansa.” Lord Stark says, motioning to a girl that was perhaps two or so years younger than you. She is beautiful, with fiery red hair, eyes like Robb’s, and high, graceful cheekbones. She curtsies with the air of a Southern lady, and smiles when you do the same. This is who you are meant to befriend, and it does not seem it will be too difficult, Sansa’s eyes eagerly drink in every aspect of your being, as if she wishes to glen all she can of Southern life before it is ripped away from her.

“She is as beautiful as her mother.” Your father says, giving her then Lady Catelyn a smile.

They both thank him, Lady Catelyn beaming at the praise, while you notice Sansa’s cheeks flush with color. She is easily flattered; you must remember that.

“Allow me to introduce my own daughter, Y/N Lannister.” Your father introduces you, putting emphasis on your surname, the very fact that you have one. You are not a bastard, no matter what awful Joffrey likes to say. Your mother and father had married in secret, she died giving birth to you, it was tragic and left your father quite saddened, but you were not a bastard.

Your eyes dart back to Jon taking him in subtlety. You wish to see him blush again, but you will not make your actions so easily observed.

“It is too cold, why must we stand here all day?” Joffrey whines, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping his foot resoundingly.

Your aunt fusses over him, and Lord Stark leads you all inside, talking jovially with your uncle as you hurry to catch up with your father.

It is loud in the Great Hall of Winterfell, made of gray stone and smelling of smoke, meat, and a hint of dog, which you must assume is from the Direwolves. It is well lit and filled with people, all enjoying the bountiful feast set before them on long wooden tables. You’re seated away from your father, something you despise. He is closer to your Uncle Jaime, nearer to the King and Lord Stark, while you have been seated with the other children. It has only been you and your father for so very long, a part of you feels anxious to be separated from him, but you are a Lannister, if you cannot charm the strangers around you then can you truly call yourself such?

“Will you tell me more of King’s Landing, Lady y/n?” Sansa asks, looking enraptured by the mere thought of it. She is dressed in a gown of blue silk, her fur lined cloak on the back of her chair, her hair done up in a style you’re quite familiar with. She is very beautiful, and you spot many men staring at her, one of them being Theon who is seated at the lower tables. You catch his eye and smile knowingly. In response, he scowls and ducks his head.

You must mention this observation to your father.

You smile and return your attention to Sansa, regaling her with tales of festivals and feasts, of tourneys and services in the Great Sept. Her siblings either listen as well or turn their attention elsewhere, which you don’t mind. They are not who you are here to befriend.

Sansa sighs dreamily and turns her gaze to Joffrey, who is seated next to his mother further up the table and is staring down at his food as if it has offended him. “And what of Joffrey? Surely you must be close?”

Your cousin, and closest companion, Myrcella snorts into her drink, and you shoot her a look. Myrcella was meant to be sitting next to Joffrey but had convinced someone to switch with her so that she could be next to you.

“Joffrey is a…spirited boy, he has many…passions.” You say carefully, running your finger along the rim of your glass.

Your father suspects Robert will wish to wed Sansa and Joffrey. It’s a strategic match, but your cousin is a horrible bully, you have marks hidden beneath your sleeves to prove your words, and you do not wish to see innocent Sansa suffer in such a way. True, you have not spent much time with her, but she has been warm and welcoming, her innocence shining through like the sun on a spring day.

“Does he enjoy tourneys? I have heard the King was quite the warrior, he and father fought together.” Sansa continues, resting her chin in her hand.

You smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in your skirts. “Joffrey has not competed in any tourneys quite yet, Lady Sansa, he is too young.”

“He is three and ten, is he not? Most squire by one and ten, why has he not been sent to one of your bannermen like his uncle?” Robb says, taking a long drink from his glass.

“My mother does not wish for him to get injured; he is heir to the throne, after all.” Myrcella chimes in, saving you from coming up with another excuse for why Joffrey has not been allowed to leave King’s Landing.

Sansa nods and gazes longingly at Joffrey once more. “That seems most wise, what a dutiful mother Queen Cersei is.”

“Where is your mother, Lady y/n? I did not see anyone else arrive.” Bran, one of the younger Starks asks, his round innocent face not dulling the sting of his words at all.

Myrcella takes your hand under the tables and squeezes it. She has been privy to the nights of crying, of mourning the mother you would never know.

“Bran, that is not polite.” Sansa hisses.

You shake your head, a soft smile on your face. “My mother died giving birth to me, but I am told she held me in her arms before the Stranger came for her, that she named me and spoke of how dearly she loved me.”

Bran makes a soft noise of apology, and the conversation lulls, until finally you have finished your meal and are free to retire to your chambers.

You wave off any offer to escort you, telling them all you wish to admire the architecture of Winterfell in solitude.

It’s not wholly a lie, though you cannot say you ever wish to be alone , you enjoy the company of others, are invigorated by it, but tonight feels different. Perhaps it is the mention of your mother, or the false face Joffrey is putting on for the Starks and their bannermen, the sound of his laughter ringing about the hall. You wander the halls of Winterfell with a faint knowledge of where the guest chambers lie, when you find yourself approaching the training yard. The night is quiet, snow falling gently, the brisk air seizes your lungs, purifying them with an icy chill.

You are not alone, the thud of blunt metal upon wood, the sounds of exertion, the turn of boots in snow covered dirt. You slowly move towards the sound, knowing your father will scold you later for such carelessness. There are countless people here, and you cannot be assured they all wish you well.

Jon Snow, the ever so distracting bastard, stands in the middle of the yard, training alone, the moonlight shining down on him, making his pale skin glisten. You rest your hand on the stone archway, one foot on the dirt, the other still firmly planted on the stone. You should leave him alone, you know it, but you’re mesmerized by the sight, the tension in his muscles, the expanse of his back, the strength in his arms. He is a little older than you, six and ten to your five and ten, both old enough to be married, yet both remaining unbetrothed.

There had been offers for your hand, even though you were the imp’s child, and many wondered if you would sire broken children, if you would pass on your father’s curse. But for the gold that backed your name many were willing to risk it. You didn’t like your suitors, they were too brash, too lewd, too old, or simply just not right.

Jon stops and lifts his tunic to wipe the sweat from his brow. His stomach is toned, his skin mostly smooth, though there are some faded scars.

Yes, they were simply not right, they did not look like that.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and you avert your eyes. What were you, a child? A lovesick maid? You have spent no more than mere minutes in his presence, and already you are lusting after him like some silk street whore? It must be the chill that is muddling your mind, yes, the chill. Not the kindness that you saw within him as he played with Arya and Bran in the courtyard earlier in the day. Or the way he stood stiff lipped while Joffrey threw barbed insults at him as he passed him in the hall, or the stack of novels you had overheard the maester say were to be set aside for him. Merely the chill. The chill and the flights of fancy all young girls are prone to.

With that in mind, you wait until he has returned his tunic to its rightful place and step fully into the snow.

He turns on his heel, weapon at the ready. He is perceptive, you note, good reflexes, excellent hearing, fine form, carved from marble, glowing like a god in the moonlight.

Gods y/n, pull yourself together.

“My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You say, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. It is thin, far too thin to wear in the chill of night.

Jon lowers his sword. “Lady Lannister, why are you not inside at the feast? Are you lost?”

“Yes.” You lie, batting your eyelashes at him, crafting your expression into one of helplessness. “I wished to return to my chamber, but I lost my way.”

Jon stows his sword and retrieves his cloak from a nearby rack. “I will escort you, if you do not take offense?”

You tilt your head in faux confusion. “Why would I take offense?”

He shuffles his feet and busies himself with his cloak. “You are a lady of a great house, and I am…” He lets the unspoken words hang in the air, and you have the grace to act surprised.

“Oh, yes, right, you are a Snow.” You say, taking a step towards him and extending your hand, waiting to set it on his arm. “Well, I care not if you are a Stark or a Snow, I am sure you are more than capable of escorting me to the guest chambers of your home.”

He ducks his head, that delightful blush returning to his cheeks, and he holds out his arm for you.

You take it gratefully, allowing him to guide you back towards the way you came. The wind blows through the yard as you walk and cuts straight through your thin cloak, a shiver shooting down your spine.

Before you can blink, Jon has draped his cloak over you, clasping it shut with a surprising boldness. “It is far too cold for such a thin cloak; you must remember to wear your furs if you find yourself wandering out here once more.”

You look up at him through your lashes, your heart skipping a beat at the proximity between you and him, the depth of his dark eyes. “And if I were to wander out here again…might I be able to count on you to escort me? I must confess I find the halls of Winterfell quite confusing.”

He lingers for a moment, drinking you in, his head nodding almost imperceptibly, then he wrenches himself away, his gaze set forward. “Anyone in Winterfell would be more than able to escort you, My Lady.”

You nod, feeling the sting of rejection. It’s no matter, this is only the first night, there’s still plenty of time.

Ch 2

Yes I used a Hozier line bc it's perfect for the vibe of this fic

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Ten

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: You would laugh when I tell y'all the hours I spent trying to study High Valyrian and make sure I used proper grammar. Because, like... who does that?? I still don't think I used correct grammar and sentence structure, but who's going to know? This chapter takes place over a few years. I wanted to clarify that ahead of time in case of any questions. I also wanted to say that the woman depicted in the cover art is not necessarily what I imagine the main character to look like. She has black hair like her mother, and she's not conventionally skinny. She has a semi-muscular but broad body due to her training, and her eyes are as described. Other than that, the MC can be whatever you picture. xD ANYWAYS... Thank you so much for your continued support as we embark on this journey together. It means so much to me.

Chapter Warnings: Gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss, time jumps, italics equal High Valyrian when speaking.

"I survive off the idea that one day my rage will be witnessed by the men who poisoned me with it in the first place." - Maya G. Wolf, Being A Woman.

Prince Daemon was excited when you arrived at Dragonstone. He dreamed of having a son of his own. One to train and spar with. Though he loved Baela and Rhaena, they were not encouraged to take up the sword, nor did they want to. Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys, were trained in swordsmanship but were less committed than Daemon would have preferred. They had much heavier things to worry about, like ruling entire kingdoms.

You were the only child in Dragonstone with no future prospects. You had no claims to land. None would be passed down to you as everything was already set to your father's true-born daughters. It did not matter if you were the eldest and held the most seniority. You were a bastard, and bastards were nothing but a stain on noble houses. You were lucky even to be allowed into the same wing as your father's family.

Even though you were a smudge on the Targaryen name, the Targaryens treated you as anything but and welcomed you with open arms and hearts. You were hesitant, at first, to accept their love, only clinging to a man you shared a slither of a connection with.

It became Daemon's project to integrate you into the family. It was what gave him joy in the never-ending days tucked away at Dragonstone. Furious at the world and everything around her, he transformed an angry girl into a warrior.

He saw you reborn through his gruesome training, sand melted and forged into glass. The lessons he taught began to shine through as time progressed. You eventually viewed those curly-mop-headed boys as your brothers and Rhaenyra, your mother. The family became the most important thing to you, your love for each stored close within your heart. You all were that each other had.

You had heard the rumors that plagued Rhaenyra and her children concerning their lineage. It was surprising how much people would let slip around the "bastard of Daemon Targaryen." You could not help but feel a sense of empathy for them. You needed to protect one another from the world, from the cruel whispers that trailed not too far behind each of you.

But if one of your brothers decided to pull your hair one more time when you weren't paying attention... the Stranger would have two more souls to guide.

***

You and Daemon had developed a routine here on the sandy beaches of Dragonstone.

You would run in the morning when the sun had not risen yet, and the wind still held the same damp, nightly chill in the air. He would send you around the inner grounds of the castle, then up and down the many rocky and steep hills leading to Dragonmont, and finally, around the beaches, where he would begin your proper training.

"A warmup," he would call it as you vomited on the shore, panting like a dog the first dozen times you did it.

He pushed you, sometimes too far, you thought, when you screamed, exhausted with tears in your eyes. Daemon would always say the same thing every time you nearly gave up.

"When you are at your lowest, stand back up, and spit in the face of your enemy. They will not take pity when they see your weakness. They will kill you. Do not let them get the chance." You could not argue with his logic, your pride beginning to mirror his over time. Weakness was never an option for a bastard in the House of the Dragon.

Within years, your limbs were not the soft linear sticking of bone they once were but toned, strong, and sturdy from the many bags of grain you carried. Your body no longer reflected the malnourished peasant girl but a warrior, the likes of which no one had seen since Queen Visenya.

***

"Tell me again, Maester Gerardys, of the dragons here on this island," you asked sweetly, resting your jaw on your palm.

You wanted to hear about something other than the hierarchy and the politics of the North, your mind entirely elsewhere. You knew that if you batted your lashes enough, the Maester would forget about today's lesson.

"Well, Princess, we have had many over the years, but currently, there are your family's dragons. Caraxes, ridden by your father. Syrax by your mother. Vermax by your younger brother Prince Jacaerys, and Arrax by the second youngest, Prince Lucerys." You nodded along, seeming to care about the claimed dragons honestly.

"I heard rumors from the servants of several unclaimed dragons. Ones that steal the common folk's livestock and another that is so silver that it blends into the sea mist. What of those?" You pouted your lips slightly when you talked, leaning forward in your palm.

"Ah, yes. There are wild dragons that reside on the island. Some are in the cliffs overlooking the port, Dragonmont, or in other hidden caves where we cannot find them." You smirked slightly, appearing to have no ulterior motives in the conversation. "There are three riderless dragons. Seasmoke, which belonged to the late Lord Laenor Velaryon, Silverwing, who belonged to Queen Alysanne, Vermithor, who belonged to Jaehaerys Targaryen, your second Great Grandsire. Vermithor resides inside the Dragonmont and has a large body of bronze. They called him the Bronze Fury, and oh, was he a sight to see in the skies! The way the sun would shine on his scales was magnificent!"

Maester Gerardys shook his head, smiling to himself and getting rid of the memory of the beautiful beast. "There are three wild dragons which have been attempted to be claimed, but none have ever succeeded. They are nasty, those three. And should you ever come across them, run in the other direction."

He began to turn back around, beginning to continue the lesson from before. You couldn't let him finish; you still had many more questions.

"What do those wild dragons look like," you quickly asked, almost showing a worrying amount of enthusiasm.

The Maester swallowed, returning to you as you display your best puppy dog eyes. You knew they were his greatest weakness—the brown orbs reflected in the candlelight, the small ring of violet shining around your pupil.

"Gods, be good," he whispered, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The first is Grey Ghost, the one you heard the servants talking about. He has a pale coloring to his scale and almost becomes invisible when he flies within the sea mist. He does not bother the smallfolk much, leaving for long periods. The second is Sheepstealer. He is a real nuisance to the smallfolk, always snatching any mutton he can wrap his teeth around from here to Driftmark and Wendwater. " You nodded along, urging him to keep talking until you had every drop of knowledge one could obtain.

"The worst one, Princess, is Cannibal. He is said to be as black as coal and has green eyes that would scare the most battle-hardened of men. He is the largest of all three wild dragons and by far the most dangerous, feasting on his fellow species. His den is said to be covered in the bones of those who have attempted to claim him."

Maester Garardys was worried he might have scared the poor Princess with the discussion of the fearsome dragons, but when he looked at your face, your features showed no fear. You had a slight grin gracing your flushed skin, your eyes bright, and your mind hanging onto every word he said.

"Where does Cannibal reside, Maester?" You questioned eagerly, forgetting yourself.

He squinted his eyes momentarily, unsure if he should give you the answer considering your demeanor. "He resides in the back of the Dragonmont on the eastern side." He began to turn away but stopped, feeling uneasy. "Princess, why do you have a sudden interest in the dragons here on the island? We had a lesson on them barely a fortnight ago, and if you do not mind me saying, you seemed somewhat disinterested in it."

Your smile did not falter momentarily, a lie quickly finding its way onto your tongue.

"I had decided to do some extra reading on my family's history in my spare time and was somewhat confused about which dragon was where, who rode what, and what they looked like. There is so much for me to learn," you fidgeted in your seat, wringing your hands, "and my brothers have such an advantage on me with having you as their teacher for their whole life... I feel very inadequate compared to them."

Maester Garardys gave you a pitying look that made your blood boil as you continued your defeated expression. "Oh, Princess, do not be too hard on yourself," he cooed. "This is not a traditional education that women like yourself get, but your father insisted you be taught the same as your brothers. I will remember for the next lesson to take more time with you."

"Thank you, Maester Garardys," you said, feigning bashfulness as your nails dug into your palms. The urge to jump over the wooden table that separated you and punch that soft-hearted look off his face was strong, but you held fest, continuing the doltish girl act. "If it would not be too much, ser, could you please not tell my father about what we discussed? I do not want him to think I am incapable of doing what he assigned me."

"Of course, Princess," he smiled kindly as if he was talking to some simple-minded fool and not a growing woman with the compacity to understand simple subjects.

Finally, he returned to the original lesson, speaking slower than before and explaining things in more detail than you thought necessary. You swallowed the anger threatening to spill past your lips as you adjust your posture.

You would show him. You would show all who thought the same as him how wrong they were about you. You were not to be spoken down to and underestimated, and you would make sure anyone who did would live to regret it. You were not some peasant girl with a fancy title; you were a Targaryen. You are the firstborn of Daemon Targaryen, the brother of the King, the husband of the heir to the Iron Throne, and they would do well to remember that.

***

You only had a few hours before someone would realize you were gone. You had told Rhaenyra that you were nursing a severe headache after your training with Daemon today and could not participate in your daily embroidery lesson for the afternoon. She, of course, understood, knowing how her uncle could be if left on his own with a sword and a weaker opponent.

There was only a slightly guilty feeling in your chest as you lied to her.

Years of the gruesome time your father had put you through paid off as you snuck past countless guards and servants, using the hidden passages within Dragonstone's walls to escape. There were no maps of the caverns inside Dragonmont, which left you nothing but the information Maester Garardys gave you and your instincts to guide you.

The first half was easy, you told yourself. You only needed to sneak inside Syrax's lair and steal an egg. Daemon had come boasting not too long ago about how the she-dragon had laid a new clutch of eggs, a sign that his "Targaryen seed was strong" and your mother was surely with child again. You felt bad that you could be taking a dragon away from one of your future siblings, but you only needed one, nothing more. Indeed they would survive if you just took one.

Syrax was nowhere to be found as you silently crept into her den, placing the torch you had for light in an empty holder. You sighed in relief as you gazed upon six eggs laid on a pile of sand she had made, a nest to keep them warm. Plenty would be left. You smiled as you stuffed an egg inside your satchel, positioning it with your other supplies.

The low rumble of heavy steps shook the ground, signaling that Syrax was most likely returning from where ever she was, and you needed to get the Seven Hells out of there. You cursed the Gods for this unfortunate timing, snatching your torch and scrambling out of the cave and in the opposite direction of the cold-blooded animal.

You ran further into the darkened caves, the idiotic nature of your plans finally coming to fruition as you realized you were lost. You could feel the panic beginning to rise in your chest, your breathing speeding up. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you stumbled, dropping your only light source and tearing the seam of your dress as you fell onto the rocky ground. You cried out in pain, your body forcing the tears to fall against your will as you wiped at your face.

"You will not be weak," you said, echoing along the warm stone. "You are not weak," you gritted out again, digging your palms into your eye sockets.

You yanked your arms away, readying to push yourself up and continue your quest as you opened your eyes. Standing over you in the dim lighting was a creature as black as night, its scales reflecting off your lost torch as a rush of hot air wafted your cheeks. Cannibal's piercing green eyes stared back at you, his pupils dilating as he scanned your frightened form.

Quickly, you moved to create a safe enough distance between you and the beast, wincing as you noticed the blood dripping down your shin. He tilted his head at you, seeming confused to see such a small and pathetic thing so far back into Dragonmont as he stepped closer. You grabbed the egg faster than Cannibal could move and placed it between you and the dragon, offering peace between two isolated individuals. He proceeded instantly, walking over to your discarded torch and consuming the egg in one bite, bits of shell flinging across the cave floor.

The fallen torch illuminated his body over top of the light. Rows of black horns protruded along his head and neck, teeth the size of your forearm glistening with yolk. His feet had shiny black claws that could slice a man in half. He was not the majestic creature that songs were sung about. He was a monster. A monster you would scare a child with so that they would come home on time.

No one would think you were weak with a dragon such as him by your side. They would all cower away as the Bastard Princess sat atop her Cannibal dragon. It was divine fate that brought you to this moment, face to face with the most dangerous dragon in all the realm. A creature that many men had tried to claim, but all failed, their bones scattered across his den. 

You were no man.

Courage filled your limbs as you stepped closer to him, your chin held high as you took about another item you had brought. You had stolen pork legs on your way to the caverns, the kitchen maids too preoccupied with other tasks to see a cloaked figure hiding amongst the shadows. You took a deep breath, holding the first leg out as Cannibal's nostrils flared at the smell.

"Dohaerās (serve)," you commanded, and the dragon stared, unmoving. "Māzīs naejot (come forward)," you tried, insecurity creeping into your mind when he did not move. "Māzīs," you repeated, with more force, still holding the pig leg before you. "Māzīs naejot issa (come to me)," you barked.

You knew this would take some time, but surely, waiving a piece of raw meat in front of a dragon named Cannibal would yield quicker results. Still, he ignored you, his head lowering to the ground as he sniffed it, beginning to lick it.

"What in the Seven Hells are you doing?" You questioned, exasperated as you stepped closer to him.

At speed too quick for a dragon of his size, his head snapped up, his green eyes becoming black as a low growl came from his chest, looking as if he would charge at any second; you threw the leg and retreated. Once again, he swallowed it in one bite, returning to the same spot on the ground.

You looked closer, forcing your eyes to adjust in the darkness as you realized that was the spot where you fell, seeing the dried blood. Your body was faster than your mind, swiftly finding the dagger Daemon had gifted you for your first name day with him and cutting your hand, smearing your blood on the raw meat. Finally, did you have Cannibal's full attention, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air.

You steeled yourself again, holding the pork out.

"Māzīs (come)," you demanded proudly. He snarled, the sound booming inside your ears as you repeated yourself.

You could sense his anger at this tiny creature believing she could command him, and when you repeated a third time, his patience wore thin. Cannibal inhaled, his throat grumbling as you saw him lift his head and open his mouth. You were not an idiot. You knew what came next, seeing it countless times with Caraxes, but with nowhere to run, you stared at the bright orange flames.

***

The sound of clinking silverware and laughter echoed in the dining hall of Dragonstone, even with one less member of the family. Jace had butchered a Valerian pronunciation, Rhaenyra attempting to stifle her laughter, and even Damon chuckling in amusement. Everything was going normal, each person blissfully unaware of the Princess deep inside Dragonmont.

"Mother," Luke spoke during a lull in the conversation, "could I bring sister some dinner?" No one had seen you since high noon, not wanting to bother you while being ill.

"I am sure she would love that, sweet boy," she said gently. Rhaenyra smiled, nodding to Luke and motioning him to come in for a quick kiss before going to your chambers. He proceeded on the usual route to your apartments but stopped short as he looked down at the plate the servants had prepared for you. 

Luke knew how much you loved sweets, sneaking him and Jace under the rouse of them wanting something in the kitchens and not you. Both boys would always play along with whatever schemes their rebellious half-sister thought of for the day. Either racing across the halls and seeing who was the fastest, playing with wooden swords inside the castle, or putting pins on her Septa's chair if she was a "particular cunt" that day.

Lucerys went down the small passage leading to the kitchens rounding the corner with your plate of cooling food still in his hands as he surveyed the freshly baked trays of pastries. He could not decide which ones you would like more. Sadly, nothing with apples was made.

"Could I help ya' young prince?" An older woman asked, her gown a drab grey woolen color and a white bonnet on her head.

"Oh yes," the young boy answered, slightly startled by her sudden presence. "My sister is not feeling well this evening, and I wanted to bring her some dessert to help her recover."

The woman hummed, nodding in agreement as she missed tying off her stained apron. "That's a mighty fine idea, my prince. May I help ye' in yer selection?"

"Oh, yes," he repeated, "her favorite is apples, but I cannot seem to find anything with some."

"Ah. Apples are not in season at the moment, so our imports of them have been scarce, but I'll see what I can do for the young Miss. I am sure we'll have some somewhere."

The woman began her search for the fruit wandering off into small rooms and digging through random barrels until she found what she was looking for. "Do you know what the lady prefers?" She questioned as she began to rinse the red fruit.

"I believe she likes something called apple muse. I think that is how she called it," he said, unsure. The woman nodded again and smiled as she gathered some bowls, pitchers, and utensils.

"She's a girl after me own heart," the lady commented, peeling the apples. "We eat this all the time for dessert, and it's very easy. I'll be done faster than a crow's fly."

Luke smiled and sat on a stool to watch the woman work, picturing your joyful face when he brought you the food.

***

Luke finally reached your grand oak doors, knocking with his free hand. You were not feeling good, so he knocked again and opened the door, calling out your name. You did not answer, which he wasn't surprised about. He still had the same grin, excited and happy to do something nice for his sister.

"I have brought you some dinner," he said gleefully. "It is your favorite. I even had one of the servants make you some Apple Muse." Still, you did not answer as Lucerys moved further into your apartments.

Your seamstress hid hints of the Targaryen crest throughout the different items in your entry room. Black and red decorated every fabric with curtains to match. Leather-bound books and armor were thrown haphazardly on velvet chairs and benches. No doubt you had told your maids you would clean it up later.

He figured you would be in your bed chambers, knocking again on a smaller door as he entered. He nearly dropped the plate he had put some much heart into when he saw your empty bed, the sheets undisturbed from when they were made early this morning.

Swiftly, he sat the food onto a nearby stand, ringing the bell for your maids. Within moments three women came up, surprised to see the young Prince Lucerys instead of their Princess. They all bowed, one readying to speak before she was cut off.

"Where is my sister," he asked quickly.

"We are not sure, Your Grace. She has not returned since her bath after training," the one he believed was called Edith said.

"How do you mean? She must be here," he denied, panicked. She told my mother she was retiring in the evening due to a headache."

The three girls looked at each other, each bewildered and confused. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but we have not seen her since then."

Luke nodded curtly, hurrying out of your rooms and back to the dining hall, his red pants swishing with each step. He would catch the rest of his family leaving if he were fast.

He ran past servant after servant, dodging some carrying stacks of linen, some with brooms and dusters, and others he bumped into without apologizing. Luke felt betrayal in his chest, his heart cracking into pieces as his eyes began to water. His young mind went to the worst possibilities, remembering how you told him of the terrible punishment to your former Aunt and handmaid for trying to abduct you. Perhaps someone else from your old life attempted it again? That would be the only reason you would lie.

How could you leave them? They were your family. They loved you. He loved you.

He sprinted blindly, wiping at his eyes as he ran into a warm body, instantly recognizing the floral smell.

"My sweet boy, what is the matter?" Rhaenyra asked kindly, stroking her second son's curly hair.

"It's Sissy," he cried, reverting to the old name he called you before Jace teased him. "She is not in her rooms, and-and none of her maids have seen her!"

"Calm, Lucerys. Take a deep breath and tell me again," Rhaenyra said calmly, with a nurturing, motherly tone.

"I went to give Sissy her food, but she is not in her rooms, and her servants said they have not seen her! I think they took her! Like before," Luke cried into his mother's thick skirts.

"Why do you think she was taken, Lucerys? Perhaps she is just along the beaches resting as she as done before?" Luke couldn't argue with her reasoning, but he still could not help but feel a sense of worry. She gave him a wry smile, looking over to her husband, who had a concentrated look on his face, his eyebrows creased.

Before Daemon or Rhaenyra could think of their next move, a Kingsguard ran toward them, their polished armor clanking.

"Princess," he nodded to Rhaenyra, still out of breath. "Prince Daemon. We believe in having spotted the young Princess on the eastern cliffs of Dragonmont," the knight known as Ser Steffon paused, glancing at the floor momentarily before looking back at Daemon, "naked and riding a dragon."

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in shock, covering her mouth as she went to grab her husband's hand. He took it without hesitance, squeezing it reassuringly as he pulled her closer. Jace and Luke both made disgusted faces at the mention of their sister without clothes, their true maturity showing no matter how righteous they tried to act.

"I will mount Caraxes," Daemon declared, his voice becoming what he used in war. "Gather serval knights, Ser Steffon, and alert the Dragonkeepers."

"I will go with you, father," Jacaerys interjected, puffing his chest out proudly.

"No," he said with finality, "Vermax is still not fully grown, and you do not have proper control over him yet. It would be too dangerous."

"But-" Jace pleaded before Daemon cut him off with a wave of his hand, rushing to his dragon. Jace stepped back dejectedly, nodding his head as his eyes fell to the floor.

***

The wind tore through your hair, ripping it out of its pinned style. Water leaked from your eyes as Cannibal flew through the skies at lightning speed. You held onto the horns on his back for dear life, your palms sliding as he did a sharp turn. The air was freezing on your bare skin, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins kept you warm.

The black dragon had been soaring wildly through the orange skies, accelerating to altitudes where you thought you might lose consciousness before he suddenly dipped back down. You had forgotten the commands you had memorized in High Valyrian, more focused on not falling to your death and having your family find your crushed, naked dead body.

Your mind was still reeling from the fact that you were alive. Cannibal had bathed you in his dragon fire, burned every inch of clothing on your body, and even melted the dagger your father had gifted you. But you were alive. You were still alive. A dragon had breathed its fire on you, and you lived. You had only heard fables of something like this happening. You did not believe it yourself. Experiencing the contents of myths and legends was not something you thought possible.

Suddenly, Cannibal made a sharp turn causing your body to slip to one side and dangle as he righted himself. He was a wild and untamed beast, possessing the stamina of a Dornish sand steed and taking you to places you did not want him to go. You knew if you did not gain control of him soon, everything would be for naught as he brought you close to the blue waters of the Narrow Sea, his spiked wings cutting through.

"Dohaerās (serve)," you shouted over the wind whistling in your ears, but Cannibal did not listen. "Dohaeragon aōha kipagīros (Serve your rider)!" As if he was trying to defy you, he started to ascend, his body a near verticle line as he flew towards the sky.

You realized you could not direct him from where you were sitting, making the split-second decision to use the horns along his spine as a ladder to reach his head. He began to straighten out, acting as if he was just going to glide across the fluffy yellow-tinted clouds, but then, he suddenly dipped, descending to the water below at blinding speeds. You were sure you felt like an insect crawling on his back, pesky and annoying as it moved just before you could swat it.

You grabbed the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your fast descent. Cannibal released a thundering roar, furious that someone would try to control him as he shifted to his side, his wings pointing above and below. You grabbed the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your fast descent. You captured the horns on his skull, leaning all your weight backward to stop your rapid decline. You held steadfast, shifting your weight in the opposite direction he went. He repeated the same tactic, moving too much into your opposing grip and rocking you back and forth.

"Nyke emagon claimed ao, zaldrīzes. Nyke aōha kipagīros, se ao līs dohaeragon issa lest īlon both morghūljagon! (I have claimed you, dragon. I am your rider, and you must serve me lest we both die!)" You screamed into the air, counteracting his next attempt to shake you off.

A piercing screech cut through the skies, both you and Cannibal turning your heads to where it came from. You had no doubt who it was. Your family had most likely discovered your absence and decided to send your father after you. Fear rushed over you as you saw the Blood Wyrm cut his way through the clouds, its skin a terrifying granite of red and black, your father's lean body sitting atop it.

Cannibal moved to turn and face Caraxes, known to have a deep aversion to other dragons; he no doubt would try to kill him and your father in the process.

"Daor (No)," you bellowed as you countered his attempt, jerking his head in the opposite direction. "Udrāzmī ao rȳbagon naejot issa (You obey my commands)." You leaned down into what you assumed was his ear, "Tegon, sir (Land, now)."

Cannibal slowed. You could sense he was thinking, debating whether or not he would win a fight against a battle-hardened dragon, and if he did win, would he even be worth the kill?

By an act of divine intervention, he moved, descending at slower speeds than he had before, succumbing to the power of a tiny girl. He landed on the southern shores, his breath releasing small puffs of smoke. 

Cannibal lowered his head, which startled you, but you tried not to let him see as you climbed off the dragon. Your hand slid along his neck feeling his blood pulsing in his throat as your eyes locked onto one another. You wanted to thank him for letting you be the one to break him but could not find the proper word. He let out a low sound, not quite a purr, but you knew he could sense how you felt as he turned away, his green eyes blinking slowly.

Your father and his dragon landed on the same beach, far enough away that Cannibal wouldn't feel threatened but still too close for his liking. He didn't recognize Daemon as a threat as he walked towards you carrying something in his arms.

You had prepared yourself for his harsh words before you even set foot inside Dragonmont. Nothing he could say would make you falter. You slinked out from behind Cannibal's large body, your chin held high and your hands clasped behind you proudly.

"You are naked," he said blandly, scanning your body with a judgemental smirk.

You gasped, all your mental preparation from before crumbling as you remembered your current attire, attempting to cover your body. Daemon laughed, throwing the bundle he had in his arms toward you. You raised your eyebrows at the pair of brown trousers with a shirt to match, questioning if that was really what he wanted you to wear.

"Come," he motioned his head, and you followed. "You have claimed a dragon in which there is much to learn. Though I am happy," he spoke leisurely, kicking the sand with his boots, "your mother is not. I suspect you will deal with a great tongue-lashing once we return to the castle."

You sighed through your nose, the sound blending into the folding waves on the shore, pursing your lips as you nodded. "It is easier to seek forgiveness than ask for permission," you quipped, pulling up the pants he had given you.

He laughed softly, smiling as you struggled to keep up with him in clothes two times your size.

In truth, Daemon was still shaken. The moment that Lucerys had come running back from your rooms with tears in his eyes he panicked, his mind going to the worst places imaginable. He did not believe you would go willingly if someone from your past life had managed to sneak their way onto Dragonstone. He knew you had found comfort in your current life. Your indulgences for the finer aspects told him all he needed to know, but he could still sense the reservations whenever Rhaenyra would display an array of gowns when a Lord arrived. Though they may have been small, the habits of your old life were still there. He just didn't know how much was left.

Despite how terrified he was near moments ago, Daemon displayed nothing of the sort. Laughing and teasing his dragon rider daughter as you walked toward the castle. He was giddy that there was another aspect he could add to your daily training and could barely contain his excitement of eventually seeing your frustrated face when things didn't go as you wanted.

It was another challenge he could guide you through as your father, doing what his mother did for him and making up for the years he did not know of your existence. How he wished he could return to the past and change things. So many things...

Master List of Series

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I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! I feel like it was pretty controversial for me to choose the Cannibal as the reader's dragon, but out of all the options that she had, I feel like this resembles her the most. I'm sorry about the no Aegon, but we gotta bring some juice to the story. Some meat and potatoes, if you will.

The main character I created is strong. She's raw, visceral, the feeling of triumph when you cross the finish line and win the race. She's the rage you have bottled up throughout your entire life from everyone telling you to contain your emotions, act a certain way, and accept the wrong you have been a victim of. And Cannibal is the only dragon I feel canonically embodies the same fucking rage and power the reader has.

Well, I may have given you too much info on the reader that you could figure out on your own as you read.

I also wanted to say that, canonically, the Targaryen's are not fire proof. We've seen them get burnt to death by dragon fire and just regular fire. The MC only survived because she inadvertently used blood magic and sacrificed a dragon egg. So, sadly, she is not fire proof. She's just lucky. It would be cool if the Targaryen's were tho!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe-deactivated202303, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan,@dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @iiamthehybrid, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee,@sunny-boy-06 

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Obligatory insecurities Pt. I

This is a little angsty but mostly fluff, wasn't planning on separating it into parts at first but it just ended up being too long.

Whoops.

Lucifer

Behind pride, sits doubt. It lingers behind the day to day problems he has to chase after and solve, behind the piles upon piles of work he has to sift through each and every day, waiting for the straw to break the camel's back.

Only then does it come forth, bouncing in the space behind his eyes, demanding he think on his failures. Is he truly doing what's best for his brothers? Or is he really the tyrant they call him.

Would they be better without him? Back in the Celestial realm? All of this is his fault, he is the eldest, he can't make it okay.

That's when they come to him, the human who to him seems to suffer no such doubts. MC's gone and barrelled through the Devildom guns blazing like no human ever has, or ever will again.

They sit beside him, and merely hold him, cradling his head to their chest so he can hear the assured beat of their heart.

'You are perfect, you have done enough, we're okay. You're okay.'

Affirmations tumble from their lips, and as if by magic they overpower the bastard doubt echoing in his head, replaced with the warmth and assurance of them.

But the affirmations keep coming, doused with affection given without reservation or pride, until he can think of nothing but the peace they bring.

Mammon

It should be obvious what makes him break. One insult too many, misplaced blame too often, lack of trust from the demons he loves most.

He knows he's greedy, he can't help it. He wants to best, for himself, for his family, for the ones he loves to have everything they could ever want.

They don't see that, and one day, the witches get a little too close to violating parts of him which were never on the table.

Nobody cares though, because he got himself into this mess, he should suffer the consequences.

Nobody cares, but MC.

They've laughed at him being hung from the ceiling for something menial before, rolled their eyes at his pick pocketing gambling tendencies, but when they arrived to pick him up, their eyes were no joke.

For a second, he's sure they're going to snap at him, instead, they pull him in, and hug him like he can't ever remember being hugged before.

'Are you alright? Did she hurt you?'

'I...'m sorry, I just- I thought-'

He broke, and MC caught him, guiding him back to his room without speaking a word. If the witch had tried to stop them, he doubts she would've survived the attempt.

MC sat him on his sofa, brought him hot chocolate, put on music, and cuddled up next to him, all without a word.

He stares at the homemade hot drink in awe, he's not used to being taken care of like this, but when he looks up, there's that smile that's worth all the grimm in the Devildom.

'Don't be scared of calling me when you're in trouble, kay? I'll always come get you, no matter how you got yourself into it.'

Leviathan

Oh boy, where do we start here?

Envy is inherently insecure, he's always wanting things he doesn't have. The next season, a new merch line, all of it. Wanting, wanting, wanting.

It's endless, and exhausting. Being an Otaku is by far the most harmless of outlets he's had in his lifetime, but what's remained common, is his hatred of people.

People and their ability to socialise and make friends so easily. People who take those friends for granted and go forever without acknowledging them.

Between the want, and the hunt for more, his head is a mess of insecurity and desire, except in the presence of that one human.

MC just has to sit in his room with him, and suddenly, he envies no one, wants for nothing.

They bought themselves a bean bag and set it in his room, it's their space, a little piece of MC which stays in his room all the time. It even smells like them.

Even when they're not with him, he just glances at that purple bean bag, and smiles. He still wants, and chases, but the yawning chasm that once plagued him to get a better one, a bigger one, a faster one, was a little quieter, because he knows there's no improving on his best friend, on that little slice of peace that smiles at him from that bean bag and makes him lose when they look so dang cute.

Satan

His insecurities are...dangerous. He's learned that the hard way.

His wrath hurts people when he lets it out, hurts him when he bottles it up, and though he's had time to control it, sometimes, one's nature is unavoidable.

Wrath is not synonymous with control, he feels like all Hell has broken loose in his chest and throws everyone away.

Especially MC, if he hurt them, he'd never forgive himself.

He locked himself in his room, fighting not to rip the place to shreds, until something slid under his door.

A note, scented with chamomile, with three simple words in MC's handwriting.

I love you

At that moment, those words felt like the be all and end all, allowing him to slowly, carefully, bring himself out of his own head.

I love you, they wrote. They love him, despite his terrifying nature.

It must have been hours before he finally opened the door, and found MC, curled up in the hallway, resting on a pillow off their bed, sound asleep.

They'd been there all along, and would be every time he had an episode. They know they can't be near him, for both their sakes, if this is as close as they can get, they'll take it.

From then on, Satan knows he's not alone with his wrath.

Asmodeus

Pretty, pretty, pretty, has to be pretty. That's what they see, pretty Asmo, perfect, sexy, horny, lustful, and he is all of those things.

Is that all he is, though? Just...pretty. There's more to him than that...right?

He looks in the mirror, muttering affirmations to himself as he puts on his makeup, until he stops, and the tears start to fall. The mascara starts to run, and when next he looks up, it's with blurry eyes that he sees something so very ugly, but it's not his face.

There's nothing else to him, he fears, behind a pretty face, there's nothing else there.

Beside himself, he reaches out for someone, anyone, and MC answers the call in seconds.

They're at his side and cradling him like the most precious thing in the world, right there on the bathroom floor, as he blubbers his insecurities like a fool.

'Oh love, you've got so much more than beauty. You're so beautiful inside I wouldn't care if I could never see you again, I would still love you.'

'Re-really?'

'Abso-fucking-lutely. You bring me so much joy without even trying, you never judge and find beauty in so many things, the world is wonderful seen through your eyes.'

Sniffles replace his sobs and he melts into their embrace, laying affectionate kisses to their neck. 'Tell me more...please?'

[lovedreamer11]

What would have happened if Jace, Luke and Joffrey had never been born?

I was wondering how the canon would have changed if Rhaenyra had not given birth to illegitimate children? If she had been unable to conceive, Harwin would have been infertile, or Rhaenyra herself would not have wanted to risk to giving birth to bastards.

I warn you, I wrote a lot. These are just my thoughts.

Of course, the usurpation would have happened anyway. After all, without the Velaryon boys, Rhaenyra's eldest son from Daemon, Aegon, would have become Rhaenyra's heir. Otto would scream the loudest that any child with Daemon's blood was the devil incarnate.

But before that. I think Visenya could have survived. I will give my reasons. In canon, there was a slight age difference between Rhaenyra's sons. She literally gave birth to 5 sons over the course of eight years. There was a seven year difference between Viserys and Visenya. I think this was because, with five male heirs, Rhaenyra wanted a break from childbirth. But without three older boys, and with only two heirs, Rhaenyra could have become pregnant with Visenya earlier. As a result, Rhaenyra would have no problem carrying Visenya to term and giving birth to her. Most likely the age difference between Visenya and her brothers would be between 1-5 years.

Without the Velaryon boys, Driftmark has no heir. Such a vain and ambitious man as Corlys would never have given his life's work to Vaemond or some other distant relative. Corlys has two bastards, but Rhaenys is still alive. She wouldn't believe that the boys' father was Laenor. Corlys would have to make Baela his heir. To add legitimacy to her reign, Baela could be betrothed to one of Vaemond's sons. The age difference would not have bothered Corlys; his own wife is 21 years younger than him. Rhaenys would support her granddaughter. Rhaenyra too. After all, this is the heir to Driftmark became a person an who is loyal to her. Daemon would also not miss the opportunity to arrange his daughter's life.

By the way, Baela would become the heir to Driftmark, Aegon would be the heir to the Iron Throne, Daemon could try to arrange Rhaena’s life. In canon, the twins were only three or four years older than their brother. I don't think Damon would pass up the chance to make his daughter queen. Rhaena would have been betrothed to Aegon. Visenya would be betrothed to Viserys to maintain family traditions.

Aemond would have tamed Vhagar, but would not have lost his eye. Accordingly, there is one less conflict between the Blacks and the Greens.

Now let's look at the war. Rhaenyra did not experience a painful birth, meaning she was in relatively healthy physical shape and not under the influence of painkillers.

Rhaenyra's children would be too young to serve as messengers. Rhaenyra would send ravens with letters to the Baratheons, to the Vale and to the North. The Vale would certainly support Rhaenyra. Cregan also gave the impression of an honest man, especially since he himself was usurped by his own uncle. Borros is still a pig. He would have joined the Greens.

But the first blood would not have been shed, since Aemond would have had no one to fight with. Likewise, Blood and Cheese would not have killed Jaehaerys, and Helaena would not have gone mad. The main reason why Aegon went to the battlefield was his desire to avenge his son. But then no one had died yet and the conflict would not have escalated.

Would the Battle of Duskendale have taken place? It's hard to guess. Aegon was quite hot-tempered and he might have gotten tired of his grandfather's passive actions, but I'm not sure. If the battle had still taken place, then Aegon would have had no serious motive for his presence.

If Aemond went into battle alone against Rhaenys, the outcome of the battle would be uncertain. GRRM wrote that Meleys had a chance against Vhagar, but I don’t know if she could really kill Vhagar, after all, Caraxes had more experience than Meleys. There is also a healthy and mentally balanced Rhaenyra. The Blacks only have three adult dragons, she could forbid Rhaenys from going to Duskendale or she could fly with her. But I still think that this fight would have ended in a draw. In canon, Rhaenys understood that she could not escape, plus she could not miss her chance to kill the usurper. But one on one against Aemond, Rhaenys might not want to take the risk. If both Rhaenyra and Aegon had participated in the battle, then there would be two scenarios for the development of events. The first option is that Aegon could repeat his trauma from canon. Neither Syrax nor Sunfire have ever fought in battle before, but Syrax is still older and larger than Sunfire. Vhagar and Meleys would end in a draw. Second option, all four dragons injured each other, but no one died or was maimed.

In canon, Jace was the originator of two ideas that I didn't like. This is sending Aegon and Viserys to Essos and Dragonseeds. Rhaenyra might not want to be separated from her children or send them to strangers. So most likely, Aegon, Viserys and Visenya would either remain on Dragonstone or go to the Vale with Rhaena. Jayne is Rhaenyra's cousin, I think Rhaenyra could trust her with the safety of her children. So Viserys hasn't disappeared without a trace, Stormcloud is still alive, and Aegon hasn't abandoned his younger brother and fallen into depression.

Rhaenys and Meleys are still alive. And I refuse to understand how Daemon and Rhaenyra in canon allowed strangers to take the dragons. But since there was no Dragonseeds, Addam and his brother still live in the village, Nettie does not know Daemon and there was no quarrel between Rhaenyra and Damon, I don’t know and don’t want to know where Ulf and Hugh are.

The Triarchy would attack Driftmark. Most likely, due to the small number of dragons, Rhaenys, Daemon and Rhaenyra would have entered the battle together. Meleys and Caraxes are quite mature and dangerous dragons, Syrax was described as large and formidable. Most likely, all the dragons and their riders would have survived. And Rhaenyra would not have lost two sons.

Also, due to the low number of dragons, Daemon would decide not to capture the capital. And if Aegon had not been seriously wounded, then Aemond would not have become regent and would not have left the city unprotected. As a result, Rhaenyra did not have to deal with a bunch of angry, hungry and insane fanatics.

If Aemond could be lured out of the capital alone, then Caraxes, Meleys and Syrax would be enough to kill Vhagar. Afterwards, Daemon could be sent after Daeron. Tessarion is a young dragon, Caraxes would have easily killed her. With Daeron and Aemond dead, the Greens would only have Sunfire and Dreamfire left, and the Greens would have to try to start negotiations. Perhaps they even capitulated on the condition that the Blacks spare Aegon, Helaena and the children.

Let's try to summarize. Rhaenyra did not give birth to three bastards. The Greens can continue to call her a whore, but they will not be able to provide evidence of this. Rhaenyra's heir is practically a pure-blooded Targaryen, not a bastard boy who doesn't look like a Targaryen. Blood and Cheese will not happen. Rhaenyra will be healthy mentally and physically during the war. Rhaenys may survive. The Dragonseeds betrayal won't happen, and Rhaenyra and Daemon won't fight over Nettie. Most likely, Daemon will not cheat on Rhaenyra with Mysaria. The Shepherd will be a problem for the Greens, and if an attack on the Dragon's Lair does occur, then only Green dragons will be there.

This is all just my big theory. But please write how you think the dance would have happened if Jace, Luke and Joffrey did not exist. I'm really interested in what others think.

[navree]

What do you like about Aegon's ii character in the book? (I didn't read them btw)

Aegon in the book, like all the characters in the book, is a bit two dimensional (as explained very elaborately here and here, F&B is an in universe historical text compilation and as such doesn't have many character arcs or details on interior personalities), but the thing I enjoy most about him is that he's genuinely a very layered person.

He's a drunk and a wastrel, yes, and a bit of a slut, but there's more to him than that. For one, there's a softness to him, in his affection for his family, in having a relatively healthy relationship with his sister-wife (they, a rarity for royal couples, share a bedroom, given that it's specifically mentioned that this stops when Blood and Cheese tears them apart), a clear affection for his children, and even children in general given his decision to spare Aegon III and Gaemon Palehair (a young boy whose mom claimed he was Aegon II's bastard and thus was ruling in his name until Aegon came back) give their youth, and a love for family that he takes seriously as his eldest. While not "confirmed" the only explanation anyone offers for Aegon agreeing to take the crown when he didn't originally want to (he specifically calls it Rhaenyra's birthright and said he would be a bad brother to her if he took it even tho she was a shit sister to him) is that Criston bluntly tells him that Rhaenyra will kill not just him but his brothers and his sons in order to secure the claims of the Strongs, and that's what tips him over the edge. He makes sure only Helaena is ever recorded as a queen, to honor her, after Rhaenyra dies, and he commissioned huge fucking statues to be built of Aemond and Daeron once he was back in King's Landing after they did. It adds a complexity to him that didn't necessarily need to be there, from a narrative perspective, but was integral to who he is.

Aegon is also an incredibly determined person. He's the one who pushed to be publicly crowned once he accepted the throne, and unlike certain others (Rhaenyra) he was no slouch in fighting for what he saw as his rights. He participated actively in the war, he defended his claim with his own body by participating in the battle of Rook's Rest, and he fought hard for that win. He's incredibly injured afterwards, enough to essentially give Aemond the Westerosi equivalent of both 25th Amendment privileges and the power of attorney, but he still managed to win, and he managed to recover, importantly so without help, as his brothers and advisors were busy with the war, Helaena was just completely incapacitated, and between taking care of her and taking care of Maelor and Jaehaera, Alicent wasn't able to help him. He's able to stay alive after Rhaenyra takes King's Landing and he has to flee, he's able to stay alive on Dragonstone and even get himself to Sunfyre (we'll talk about Sunfyre) in order to gain enough health to actually take back the castle and lay enough of a trap that he's able to get rid of Rhaenyra. He's still able to fight against Baela and Moondancer, and despite being grievously injured again (this time he full on shatters his legs and is never able to walk again) he still survives and still manages to keep himself in check without even taking any pain medication (it's pointed out specifically that he refuses milk of the poppy despite the extent of the damage he's suffered). Aegon is someone who fights and claws for every victory he has, who keeps on going despite how broken and bruised and bleeding he is, who will not stop until he has absolutely nothing left to fight for, or even to live for, it's why I subscribe to the theory that he killed himself, even then Aegon's going out on his own terms after he did all that he could. I think that's incredibly powerful in a character, that he is Thee Determinator and he's going to keep getting back up no matter how many times he's knocked down.

And I love his relationship with Sunfyre. I adore his relationship with Sunfyre. Sunfyre is the "character" who brings out the most loving side we ever see with Aegon, the most openly affectionate. Aegon might love his family but he appears to keep his feelings pretty close to the best unless absolute calamity hits, but he openly just loves Sunfyre so fucking much, and it's entirely reciprocal. He makes Sunfyre his standard, the thing that his side swears loyalty to, as intrinsic as himself, and Sunfyre is willing to do anything for him at great personal risk (since we know that dragons can, theoretically, disobey commands if self preservation takes over), given that he does fight for Aegon in every battle he's flown to in spite of the fact that he himself is also incredibly wounded. And when Aegon's missing and Sunfyre is still almost completely handicapped by his injuries, they find each other. Sunfyre manages to drag himself to Dragonstone, despite no one knowing where Aegon was, and why? In the book, it's literally theorized that Sunfyre, in spite of how brutalized he was, could somehow sense that Aegon's desperation, that Aegon needed him, and that was enough for him to figure out where he was and get himself to Aegon's side. And Aegon, the second he hears that there's a golden dragon roaming around on Dragonstone, ignores his advisors and gets himself to Sunfyre because, well, it's Sunfyre. And it's explicitly stated that they only both start actually recovering in tangible ways once they're together, that they weren't whole without each other and literally needed each other in order to get healthy again. And then Sunfyre fights for him again, and is mortally wounded, and it's the most heartbroken we ever see Aegon, at least in the records. We know that he was full of rage when his son was murdered, yeah, but here he's openly weeping and completely devastated, and grief stricken enough that he orders that Baela be executed, despite the fact that she's his full blooded cousin and that would absolutely violate the kinslaying taboo, to the point where he had to be very firmly talked out of it, that's how completely crazed he is by Sunfyre's death. It speaks to the depth of feeling Aegon has within him, his capacity for love, and more than anything that even at his lowest (Sunfyre's death comes on the heels of Aegon executing Rhaenyra by feeding her to Sunfyre, in front of her son, and it's one of the cruelest moments in the entire Dance) he still has these layers within him that allow him to be so much more than one note.

The fact that Aegon is such a fully fledged character, that he has all these sides within him that aren't even at war, that are entirely complimentary (a fierce determinator with a strong sense of family and a deep well of love within him whose chaotic nature can make that incredibly dangerous as well as completely mission oriented makes so much sense), is what makes him incredibly compelling. And if they combine even just those basic moments with the added depth they've given to Aegon's inner struggles and especially his interpersonal relationships, alongside TGC's talent as an actor, we're gonna have a character for the ages, I know that in my bones.

[reginarubie]

Regarding the Viserys/Aemma ask, the show had scenes of Viserys rubbing his ring from his marriage to Aemma, mistaking Allicent for her and then later saying her name right before he died. All popular fandom spaces of HoTd keep stanning him, calling Aemma his true love and keep drawing parallels between Rhaenyra and Aemma to justify his preference for his firstborn. They call him Ned 2.0 because to them he's a hero that died too soon and they see him as honorable man lacking political skills

Ciao nonny,

sorry for the delay! Yeah, as I've said there are some instances in which the authors have played with his similarly with Ned Stark. For example in his interactions with Rhaenyra (even the frustration, if Ned had survived during Arya's teen years would've been there).

If anything with the ring rubbing he strikes me more of Cersei, who, before the dragon pit meeting rubs Joffrey's ring on her finger, as she still mourns for him and all of her children, and her father.

Wether he might have favored Rhaenyra because she looks like Aemma can be debated and it is human, what is human but completely wrong and neglecting is him neglecting his other children (the children he killed Aemma for — boys) because they are not Aemma's, especially when he keeps maritally raping his wife.

Ned loved Jon and defended him, despite Jon being the son of someone Ned might have hated fiercely, because he's Lyanna's boy. Because he loved Lyanna deeply and fiercely enough to look past Jon's parentage, and did it help that Jon favored his mother? For sure. If Jon had looked more like Rhaegar for one it would've been more difficult for Ned to justify it, but he probably wouldn't have been as forthcoming with him, not at first anyway. Instead he loved Jon and raised him as his and yet he never neglected his other children over Jon.

In show canon Cat even says that she begged Ned to give Jon the Stark name after he had that fever, and Ned adamantly refused. Why? Naming Jon a Stark would've made sure Jon would be safe for ever more. What Ned was doing was, despite loving Lyanna's boy and protecting him with his life, keeping his own children safe. Jon might have been the son of the heir to the Iron throne, but the Targaryen dynasty had been overthrown, and we still don't know if despite the secret marriage or not Ned considered Jon trueborn. It's completely possible he didn't, or that Jon wasn't and the show gave him part of Aegon's plot and Ned was defending his children, whilst not loving Jon any less, against what would've essentially be wrong by the context and standard of the time.

Whilst Viserys neglected his own children, trueborn at that, not only over his own daughter but her bastard sons. It's the exact opposite. Which again nothing wrong with loving your daughter's children even if they are born out of wedlock for our modern sensibilities, but for the time and context and even for our modern sensibilities neglecting one's children over another is wrong and it's not something Ned has ever done.

Viserys fans can continue try to climb on mirrors over this matter, but they're going to find themselves back at the start.

I am not saying they can't stan him, tho I'll never be a fan of a man who abuses his children, neglects them only because they are children of a woman he chose to marry who was not his first wife.

Ned Stark would never.

He loved the children he had by Cat even if he was forced by the situation to marry her, and his heart may have in the beginning laid elsewhere. He loved them to the point that for his eldest daughter he swallowed his honor the same way he did for his hidden nephew.

As always thank you for the ask! Hope you have an amazing day! Sending love ~G.

[twillightteaparty]

Sorry that my past request was incomprehensible, English is not my native language. This is about headcanons with Pomefiore boys, if that! I meant that the reader was not their little simbling, but they will treat him/her/ect as if he/she/ect was a little simbling

Oh! okay, sorry about the confusion! Thank you for sending In another request so I can do it properly! no worries at all!

Older Sibling Figure Pomefiore Crew!

Vil

I've Always imagined Vil being an only child from a well-off family. so for him, it's a little bit interesting when it comes to treating someone like a sibling because you know he's never had one.

I think it's a lot of hanging out in the same room and talking about things that have happened through the day and just making small talk. Maybe on some better days does your nails as a little treat, and maybe offers some hair care tips and tricks that you didn't as for but is at least he's trying to be caring and considerate.

definitely entitled eldest sibling vibes but also like eldest sibling vibes of don't you dare mess with my 'sibling' or I'll wreck your shit.

overall, I think he's very caring in the sense that he forces you to take better care of yourself kind of way though I don't think that stops it from coming off a bit harsh or rude.

Rook

Will ruffle your hair whether you like it or not. just a ruffles your hair 'how was your day?' or something. maybe even 'that's fantastic to hear' ruffles your hair.

Teaches you how to use a bow. also will teach you random nature facts. can't forget the hunting and like survival tips that you might not even ever use or need but like very cool nonetheless.

if he treats you like his younger sibling I have a feeling that includes teasing you about any crushes you have and will like to encourage you to throw caution to the wind and go confess your feeling or whatever.

Will embarrasses you in front of your friends, end of the story. but on the other side of the coin if you ever get hurt he's the person that pulls out a first aid kit and patches you up.

Epel

tries to look out for you whenever he can. but also like you guys have the 'sibling' vibes that get along too well and like are partners in crime. the friends that always get asked if you are siblings and your like nope.

I imagine this leads the two of you sharing a bunch of things, like you guys have no idea who's pencil it was originally anymore but like doesn't matter anymore. this is not limited to stationary either, could be anything from accessories to class notes to anything within reason

Mean nicknames like bastard or idiot, but like in a very affectionate manner that you only get away with like close friends and close siblings kind of deal. might be confusing to those around you but like I don't think either of you really care.

the person that lies and covers for you like 'yep they spent the whole day with me, couldn't have been them doing that' or something like that.

---

I hope this Makes up for my misunderstanding! It was very fun to write! I personally love me some Family Dynamics with my friends or like the found family trope. just 10/10

Signed, Admin Tea

[istumpysk]

I believe I just discovered new funny statistics... but aren't the same people who say "Sansa should be ahead of Bran and Rickon in succession if they survive because feminism" usually also part of the crowd who say "FAegon, claiming to be Rh8egar's son, should be ahead of Daene*ys in succession because the law says men first"?

In both of these cases, Sansa and Aegon are the eldest regardless of what’s between their legs. I think the Dornish have it right.

them: status quo? we love status quo! feminine girls good! know your place! conform! bow to the highborn femininity! "unfit" girls bad!!!

I had a stroke reading that.

also them: status quo "men first" who? sansa should be heir ahead of all bc feminism uwu

Sansa is the eldest living Stark. If Jon was secretly made “Jon Stark” by Robb… well, then she’s the second, but then there’s the whole kerfuffle about this only happening because Sansa was forced to marry a Lannister. Robb could’ve did this before if he loved and trusted Jon so much.

P.S. If we actually believed girls should “know their place” 🤮 I think we’d support the marriage to Lord Tyri+n and be mad about her refusing to consummate it (which, incidentally, a lot of Sansa antis do). 🤮

Also the same folks who want QITN Sansa over Bran and Rickon but then accuse Ary@ fans who speculate on Ary* as leader in the North of wanting all her siblings dead....

Well don’t they? Many of them post or like metas in which younger sister kills Sansa, so what am I to make of that? I’ll say it again: Sansa is older than her younger brothers (and sister).

Also if Jon gets Winterfell over Sansa, it’s sexism. He should be excluded because he’s a bastard and classism is ok 😂

Robb was desperate when he supposedly made Jon his heir. If Jon’s his heir, Robb only made it so because hostage Sansa was forcibly married to Tyri*n, who was going to impregnate her to claim Winterfell for himself. Plus, Jon isn’t really Ned’s son. If or when that ever comes up, that’s going to present issues. (Luckily, that could be smoothed over by marrying his heiress cousin, lol).

Ughhh, some of them even go as far as to say that Sansa should get Winterfell over Bran not only because ~feminism~ but also because my boy Bran is "broken"( I hate that word and I hate even more how the tv show promoted it) and probably won't be able to have kids due to his disability. Because sexism is a bad, bad thing and they have to smash patriarchy but ableism is totally fine in their book. Yikes!

Bran is, again, the younger living sibling, regardless of sex. He’s gonna be King in another way. Whatever’s going on in his pants has literally never crossed my mind.

Haaaa, wowzers. I commend you for even attempting a rebuttal to that mess.

I have so many questions. How old is the person who wrote this? Where can we find this group of fictional Sansa fans making these arguments? Does this person even logic?

[dwellordream]

*raises her hand* Do you have any particular idea on how the children of Jaehaerys and Alysanne could have turned out if they had all been born genderbent? Assuming they have some of the same flaws and/or personalities they show in F&B? For example, would things be 'easier' for 'simples' male Daella and Gael, or would a male Saera's behavior be less condamned? Would a male Maegelle still be sent to join the Faith, or another daugher instead? And what other issues could arise in the succession?

Only doing the kids who survived to adulthood:

Aemma Targaryen, eldest surviving daughter pf Jaehaerys and Alysanne, is probably extremely close with her younger sister Baela. Probably marries Boremund Baratheon, only three years her elder, son of Rogar and Alyssa, and rules as Lady Baratheon alongside him. Aemma is a serious and curious child who loves to read and has a very modest and obedient personality.

Though initially nervous around dragons eventually claims the dragon Caraxes which raises the potential problem of her Baratheon children eventually trying to claim their own dragons, which House Targaryen might be a bit leery of depending on the political situation.

Her and Boremund probably have a happy marriage and have one child together, Rhaenys, who will be the first lady of Storm’s End in her own right since Argella Durrandon. Killed at age 37 by Myrish pirates while helping oust them from Tarth on dragonback, to her husband’s anguish.

Baela Targaryen, secondborn surviving daughter, is very close with her elder sister Aemma despite their very different personalities and is probably known for being a bit of a wild tomboy with an interest in swordplay and jousts.

Maybe participates secretly as the mystery knight the Silver Fool at a tourney at Old Oak, before being unmasked. Claims Vhagar, last ridden by her great aunt Visenya. Marries her younger brother Aelyx and are known for their passionate relationship and two sons, Viserys and Daemon. Dies at age 44 of appendicitis after a hunting trip in the Kingswood.

Aelyx Targaryen, eldest surviving son and heir to the Iron Throne, though his mother Alysanne initially argues strenuously that Aemma is the rightful heir as the eldest child. Not regarded as particularly handsome unlike his elder sisters with his big ears and crooked nose, but seen as dashing and charming in personality all the same, known for his quick witted remarks and rebellious spirit.

Often clashes with his father Jaehaerys as he is far from the dutiful heir and often is found sneaking out into King’s Landing to mingle with the common people. Claims the dragon Meleys, who he jokes is his only mistress, the Red Queen, as opposed to his Silver Queen, Baela. With Baela he has two sons, with Viserys being regarded as the obvious heir to the throne should Aelyx die before his father Jaehaerys.

Maegel Targaryen, second son, is known for his gentle nature as opposed to his brash elder brother, as well as his intelligence. Could have become an archmaester but is devoutly religious and insists on becoming a septon instead, though his parents would have preferred he married and sired children. Never had much interest in combat though he was taught to defend himself. Refused to carry arms as a septon besides a wooden staff.

Known for his powers of healing and his compassion for all people, as well as his refusal to be addressed as Prince after taking vows. Very close with both his parents and helps reconcile them twice after vicious estrangements. Very close to his younger brother Daelon growing up. Dies at age 34 after nursing children with greyscale.

Vaella Targaryen, seventhborn child, is promised to the Faith at a young age, which suits her just fine as she has no interest in men or marriage. Regarded as less attractive than her older siblings and known for having a particularly sour personality, who spent nearly all her free time in the library. Despised dancing, dressing well, embroidery, and most of the other more ladylike arts.

Often remarked she would have become an archmaester if she were permitted. Eventually became head of a large motherhouse in Oldtown and was known for her passion for mathematics, astronomy and her dabbling in alchemy and the arcane arts, to the disapproval of some of her fellow septas.

Daelon Targaryen, eighthborn child and third son, was known for his small stature and simple nature, as he seemed to still have the personality and interests of a young boy well into his adult years. Was considered a sensitive, delicate, and shy little boy who had no ability for arms, a terror of horses, and could only read haltingly.

Was often the subject of his proud father’s frustration and shame, though his mother adored him. As neither the Faith nor the Citadel would take Daelon, Jaehaerys threatened numerous times to send him to the Wall. Was often tormented by his mean spirited younger brother, Saeron.

Despite his ‘inadequacies’ was still considered a potentially attractive match for his Targaryen blood and right to the throne should Aelyx and his sons die before Jaehaerys. A match was negotiated between him and Lord Rodrik Arryn’s daughter Amanda. The marriage produced no children and it is doubtful it was ever consummated, but he and Amanda were said to have gotten along well and Daelon lived peacefully at the Eyrie for the rest of his life.

Saeron Targaryen, ninth child and fourth surviving son, was considered courageous, clever, and handsome, but also demanding, manipulative, and cunning. Thrived on attention and usually lashed out when he didn’t get what he wanted. Was often said to ‘joke’ about wishing he were the eldest son or even the only child of his parents, who felt neglected by.

Tormented his brother Daelon and played various pranks on all of the Red Keep, but was also said to have started drinking alcohol at age eleven and was frequently drunk at sept services and feasts.

Known for attracting a clique of ‘favorites’ as a teenager and eventually known for having deflowered both Perianne Moore and Alys Turnberry. Alys Turnberry wound up having a bastard daughter, called Saera Hill for her father, to Jaehaerys’ displeasure.

Into his twenties Saeron clashed so frequently with the king and his elder siblings that eventually he was unofficially banished from court and took off for Lys, where he made a living as the owner of a popular pleasurehouse and numerous slaves. It was often rumored he’d briefly spent time as a bed slave himself. Sired three bastard sons in Lys who all went on to their own wealthy careers as merchants.

Viserion Targaryen was the tenth child and fifth surviving son, who was known for his handsome looks and sly vanity, as well as toying with most of the young ladies at court. Often insisted he would make an excellent Hand someday. Once proposed he wed his niece Rhaenys and rule as Lord Baratheon, earning him the wrath of Boremund.

Fearing he would prove another Saeron a match was arranged for him to the widowed daughter of Lord Manderly, much to his displeasure. He died after a drunken nighttime horse race before the marriage could take place, at only 16 years old.

Gael was the thirteenth and last child of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. He was a frail and small little boy and known to be simple minded, called the Winter Child or the Winter Prince. Jaehaerys was said to react with disgust when he heard Gael was still sleeping in his mother’s bed at age twelve. At the age of nineteen he was said to have been seduced by a traveling singer. When the singer abandoned him, Gael drowned himself. His death was said to have broken his mother.

Ultimately the Iron Throne was inherited by Viserys, son of Aelyx and Baela. He wed Rhaenys as his only female cousin, with the plan that their first son would inherit the Iron Throne, and their second would claim Storm’s End.

[sokkagatekeeper]

what do you mean when you say that zuko is a pessimistic idealist and sokka is a pessimistic realist? i love your analyses and i’d love to hear more of your thoughts on that!!! (also love how you say sokka and zuko are perfect for each other because they’re both grumps lol)

i do not remember saying that however it does sound like something i would say lmao. i think what i (would) mean with the statement “zuko is a pessimistic idealist” is that he grew up... idk if unappreciated is the exact word, but in the militaristic hypermasculine society that valued traits that he did not have in comparison to azula, zuko was always at a disadvantage and he had to run for it, sometimes make rash decisions as they were the better/only decisions he could make at all in order to be appreciated and most times it did not pay off which resulted in the entire mess that is zuko’s personality. for all of this, zuko has a tendency to see the worst part of the situation he’s in (coming to mind atm ‘it blew up in my face — like everything always does!’ ‘this city is a prison’ more or less?), so in other words he’s grumpy and kinda sour as hell, all the time.

but at the same time, zuko has a certain... idea of the world, a kind and caring heart, a strong sense of justice, an overall vision for a world that’s good. when zuko comes to understand the fire nation is actually actively pushing back this vision, and he practically immediately turns away from its ideals and pursues a philosophy and a group that actually fit his ideas of what’s better for the world. zuko spent three years at sea looking for a myth, in hopes that finding it would finally put an end to his suffering, making him and katara the only people in the world who truly believed the avatar was still out there. zuko is always expecting everything to blow up in his face like it often did throughout his childhood, and he sees the worst part of the situation before anything else but he always pushes back to make it better, or to what he believes would be making it better.

my favorite example of this is during the blue spirit after zuko finds out zhao got the avatar before him, and he gives iroh a speech about how all hope is lost for him and he will never ever have love honor or happiness ever again, and about five hours later he’s behind a theatre mask with two swords against the world rescuing the avatar just so he can capture this avatar himself in the future, while also letting him go afterwards because it’s not honorable to take him in the easy manner he could take him at that precise moment(???) and that was just nuts. therefore pessimistic idealist.

on the other hand there’s sokka.

sokka is a pessimist through and through, a serial complainer, a paranoid neurotic strategist. sokka grew up in disadvantage to the rest of the world and overshadowed by a his little sister — not because katara was a bender and sokka was not, but because katara was the last bender they had left. i’ve talked about this before but basically it’s no wonder katara is a solid optimistic idealist with all the hope and faith and determination in the world while sokka is a pessimistic realist and pragmatic depressed cynical bastard. presumably his village but also sokka put himself at disadvantage. it is safe to assume sokka sacrificed his own uhh. hope? naivetè? innocence? for katara to keep hers and in order to protect her better — after all katara is the last southern waterbender, their collective hero, and you can’t have a hero with no hope, you can’t have a dead hero. and also sokka is an eldest sibling, it’s instinctual.

now don’t get me wrong, sokka has a huge heart full of love and devotion and wonder. he is an inventor, an artist, a scientist. sokka is filled with ideas, but he is always waiting for the lowest blow, he is always waiting for a disaster to happen (and with a good reason!). sokka believes optimists are liars, he thinks destiny and fate is more or less bullshit, he has a pragmatic and careful approach to almost every situation he’s presented with and even though he has a clear sense of morality, he is willing to make certain sacrifices as are the demands of war – where zuko is willing to save zhao without hesitation, who tried to kill him multiple times and whom he had been fighting not one minute ago, for example.

sokka wants the world to be a better place, and at the same time he has little trouble turning away from people who aren’t in any immediate danger even if they are suffering because he has more pressing matters at hand (the painted lady), he obviously would want the avatar to come back and save them, but aang being a complete stranger signaling to a fire nation ship is most definitely a valid justification for sokka to banish him (the boy in the iceberg/the avatar returns i don't remember lol). among many many many other situations in which sokka is technically right, even if it doesn’t fit other characters’ idealistic views or it doesn’t make for a good story, sokka is the realist they all need in order to survive.

also i admit ‘perfect for each other’ can be kind of a stretch and i believe that it being because they’re both grumpy is kinda reductive since that can also be the basis of mai and zuko’s relationship and we all know what i think of those two aksjaks (this is NOT mai slander. # mai deserves better 2k21). however i do think sokka and zuko fit together because they have different types of emotional constipation and they actively push each other to be more balanced in order to reach to the other. sokka wants to believe deep down, and the fact that he is in a story even if he doesn’t really believe it plays its cards sometimes which translates into the universe’s obsession with sokka, and zuko is destiny fan #1 so he can give sokka an overemotional speech once in a while that sokka will ruthlessly dismiss and dismantle verbally but that at the same time will warm his heart and help him loosen up on his scheduled cerebral to a default existence on the long-run; zuko needs grounding once in a while which he usually got from iroh or at the very least iroh made an attempt to get through him, and sokka is intellectually crude enough to give zuko a reality check while making himself understood and because of their shared wavelength he can do this without crushing all of zuko’s hopes and dreams in the process.

they are also two eldest siblings one with depression the other filled with rage and they are the only real ‘pessimists’ in the gaang, so while yes, zuko will take action to solve problems he will also complain about it forever more and he can do that with sokka. together they can yell at god, complain about jocks, complain about prescriptivists, bond over their very niche taste in art that nobody ever understands, and absolutely tear apart everything that doesn’t fit their competence standard (it’s a very high fucking standard, those are two grumpy neurodivergent people) among many other grump-activities that seem to make them miserable but that actually serve both of them to validate their annoyed kind of love for the world and it makes both of them really happy :)

[softlyjiminie]

to hold a dragon’s heart | k.t.h

⇢ pairing(s): dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader,

⇢ word count: 19.1K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff,  forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au.

⇢ summary: two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge,  never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

⇢ warning(s): please read! major character death, violence ( torture scenes + fight scenes ), war, cursing, alocholism, unrequited love, arranged marriages, failing marriages,  imprinting, painful sickness, unexpected pregnancies, slight prejudice against mythical creatures and women, heavy smut, unprotected sex ( please wear protection ) , virgin + dom!taehyung, virgin + sub!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex ( male + female recieving ), nipple play, light degredation + dirty talk, breeding kink, cumplay, creaming, cunnilingus, slight exhibitionism, male masturbation,   taehyung has a two-headed penis (with spines), teaehyung has charcoal flavoured cum— i may have gotton carried away…

⇢ author’s note(s): hello everyone! this is my contribution to the @ficswithluv​ Love Library project! i was a part of the fantasy category with @jamaisjoons​ !! i worked really hard on this fic, and it’s probably my biggest work, i’m so proud of it so i really really hope you guys enjoy and leave some feedback <3

⇢special mention(s): i would like to thank my baby, miss gia of @fantasybangtan​ for helping me muse and giving me inspiration to complete this fic, as well as giving me feedback on this hefty boy n making it’s beautiful banner !! ( also i named the sea after you ) anddd my little babie @fantasyjoon​ for letting me name a kingdom after her teehee. I wuv u guys <3

two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge,  never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

on opposing sides of the enchanted forest, lay two kingdoms. one, painted with magic and mystery, from the soils to the creatures that rules the skies. the other, a land blessed with human life, cultivation and opportunity.

the Avalerian dynasty, land of the mystical and the Phantis empire, land of the man. both peaceful kingdoms, until war struck.

when you were young and with a curious mind, when tales of battle between warrior and warlock were used to put your infant heart to rest, you would ask questions. many of them, but one always seemed to snub the minds of your elders. 

“why do we fight the war? why did it start?” you would beam curiously up at your mother, Queen aadaya. she was a beauty, hair dipped in the white snows of the Huntcan tip mountains, laced with the silver moon at its highest. her skin was smooth, illuminated by starlight and her heart, as pure as any gold. but queen aadaya was a warrior, trained in the arts of her people, like her mother and her grandmother before that. she had hoped to one day, train yourself and your siblings as well.

your mother shuffled over on the bed, squishing your eldest brother, hoseok and yourself, while pulling your younger sister—tamarae, into your lap. 

you remember so clearly, your mother tilting her moon crescent eyes and brushing back the hair on your face. “we fight for safety, of you and all children.”

lies.

you had yet to learn, as a naive little five year old, what war could do to innocents such as your mother. such as your people. war was not kind to anyone it met, it’s  raging scent of death and decay and blood reaching every corner of your once ethereal home until nothing was left. nothing but sadness, loss and a hole in your heart. 

you lost your mother by order of assassination on the night of your eighteenth birthday. they say, as a revenge attack, for the death of the dragon king but it was then that you learned that war took no prisoners, it had no mercy. war was not like the lullabies and stories your mother told. that day, the kingdom mourned the loss of their queen, and you mourned the loss of your mother, the safety she promised, a lie on the ghost of her lips. 

hoseok was drafted into the war not a year later, his own doing. he trained hard but not as good as yourself, you would joke. he was to keep hold on some land by elvin territory and whilst it wasn’t much, it was everything to your brother. hoseok could do something to avenge his mother. the day before his deployment, you sat with your siblings on your bed like you would as children, sneaking snacks from the chef’s daughter that hoseok promised to wed on his return. the three of you giggled and smiled and reminisced, ending the night with tears and tight grips on each other, praying that your family would be together again.

years later, you sit aged twenty one in front of the royal court. with hoseok gone and your father unfit to rule, you were next in line to inherit your mother’s throne. the chair itself, towering with a twisted golden design, was forged from the molten treasures of the dragons themselves. tamarae sits to your left, poised in a lesser dramatic chair and gown and to the right of you, your advisor, jungkook.

“why have you come?” your voice drifts through the throne room, eyes narrow on the pathetic excuse for a man before you. your father rises from his kneel, watching you with pleading eyes. in the years between now and your mother’s death, any relationship with your father had dwindled. he grew power hungry, gambling away any riches in hoping what he earned would replace the loss in his heart. he drunk whatever he could find, rendering himself ill. you often wondered why your mother ever allowed such a man to father her children. 

“i come, with but a suggestion, daughter.”

tamarae looks to you, worry struck on her young, delicate features. yet, your steely gaze remains in line with your father’s, an anger brewing in your stomach. it was not uncommon for your father to want to challenge you in front of the court, undermine your power as you made your road to queen. you had yet to prove yourself, according to the court but you hand an inkling feeling that was your father’s doing.

 “a suggestion, pray tell?” you jest, replacing your glare for a delicate smile. a giggle bubbles from your lips, making the lords and ladies flinch. “my people and armies are fed, the livestock and farms are thriving, we have hold on all land claimed by men and yet, dearest father, you continue to doubt me.” like your mother, you had many who doubted your role as a women in power, you learned to be kind but ruthless, in order to survive. 

the man himself, withered to the bone with sagging old eyes and a wheeze in his chest, rises from his knees with a dark glint in his eye. “my grace, whilst i mean you no disrespect, but by royal decree you are still unfit to rule,” he explains, gesturing to the court with wide arms. “you lack one thing.” 

narrowing your eyes, you lean forward in your throne as your jewellery glitters and rustles around your neck. the tension in the room is thick, a knife would barely be able to cut it, “like, what?” 

“a king.” 

you rip your body from your seat, sister following suit along with your royal guard. how dare he? the sick man, run along and say you needed a king to help guide you as queen. your mother had managed just fine on her own, taking the throne from a young age and resisting the temptation of men. until she met your father, a lowly bread maker and made him the man he is today. 

he had always envied her power, much as he did with yours. 

“a king? a king like you? pathetic and on his knees like the drunk bastard he is. i digress,” you seethe, much to the amusement of your court. but your father knows your wit, knows your weakness, after all he is the man who raised you. 

“it is by royal law, for a young queen to marry, my dearest YN...” the man begins, tilting his head up at you as he basks in the support of the lords and ladies around him. “and if you want to prove yourself worthy to the court, i suggest you start, with accepting a suitor.” 

“ridiculous!” 

an advisor from beside you, the predecessor to jungkook, steps forward wordlessly and blinks to you as if he’s asking permission to speak. “with all do respect, your highness, your father does have a point...it is required of you by law to...” 

their words are silenced with a quick glare, your nostrils are flaring from how angry you are and suddenly the blue silk gown that you wear is too tight and too fitting. tamarae places a hand on your shoulder to help calm your nerves, your little sister had always been in tune with your emotions, much like your mother had.  the young princess even resembled the queen, with tumbling wisps of snow white hair and kind eyes. 

“breathe,” she whispers to you, helping you fix your poise. “you’re doing just fine.” 

standing up talk, you ease your shoulders and smile smugly at your father. “since the men of this room, seem to doubt my ability to lead... i will prove the council before me, wrong,” your grin only widens when they ask you how, and you feel your sister’s worrisome stare burning into your cheeks. “by bringing you the heart of a dragon.” 

“don’t be ridiculous, your highness!” 

a lord from goodness knows what county calls, you only roll your eyes, making your way down the steps to pass your father smugly. the court has broken into a series of whispers, anxious, excited and concerned. the men around you have grown complacent, too comfortable with the idea of overthrowing you and making you weak. 

“silence!” you bellow, turning to address every being in the room. you hum in satisfaction as the quieten down, letting your mantle made of the finest cotton, trail behind you. “no man, no king has ever brought the heart of the dragon to this kingdom. if i am to prove myself worthy to you, then this is how it shall be. laugh if you must, doubt me if you will. but i was born and raised a warrior and in my mother’s footsteps, i shall follow.”

with that, the meeting is concluded and your father is left gobsmacked, once again. 

“don’t do anything stupid, YN,” tamarae mumbles to you that evening. you stand in her quarters, dressed in traditional fighting gear. the pants are a dark grey, patterned with swirls of a lily flower and embroider with your kingdom’s emblem of a crystal lily. the top matches, only this time you wear padding to ensure your protection. “and make sure you don’t get hurt.” 

you scoff, shuffling on a cloak and pulling the hood over your head to disguise your face. royalty wasn’t allowed out of the palace after dark, due to the risk of unexpected assassination. the council put the law into place after the tragic loss of their beloved queen. “as if I’d ever allow myself to experience any form of pain.” you tut, twirling around to locate your sword.

the weapon had been a gift from your mother, on the day of your eighteenth. she had deemed you a  worthy warrior, fit for battle after many years of training. it was a shame that she would not be able to see  you use it now. 

“you know what i mean, YN,” your younger sister sighs, pushing herself to stand and handing you the sheathed sword. a bright smile pulls at your lips and you lean down to press a kiss into her moonlit hair. “what if you don’t bring back the dragon heart? you’ll call yourself a fool and beat yourself up about it.”

“i won’t, i promise,” you hum, shaking your head down at tamarae. she was young and she worried for your recklessness, much like a mother would for her child. guilt was deepset within you, despising how your sister grew up barely remembering the woman who gave her life. “now if anyone asks...” 

“you wish not to be disturbed.” tamarae gives you a soft smile, manoeuvring her hands to grip yours. she gives them a gentle squeeze before backing away.

you give your sister a quick nod of the head before sliding out of her window and slipping into the night. 

the enchanted, Mailtaria forest was nothing like you had imagined. 

according to fairy tails, it was full of beasts and blood and gore but instead, you found twisted oak trees forming the shapes of hearts, soil that illuminated beneath your feet. the air was crisp, yet some how, warming and scented with the faintest of flowers. 

roses. 

you know in your heart, that if the war was nothing but a myth, yourself and your siblings could play here for hours on end as children. as you walk, your mind drifts to hoseok, wondering if he’s safe. the eldest of your siblings had been determined to fight the war ever since your mother’s passing, a headstrong boy who was fast on his feet but not with his mind. 

the crack of a snapping branch in the distance kicks your senses into overdrive, making you duck in anticipation of a sudden attack. with a hand hovering over the sheath of your sword, you inhale deeply through your nose to keep your heart rate steady. there is no time for nerves, YN, no time for hesitance. 

dragons were not creatures of remorse. 

you ease yourself out of the bushes, mindful of the ruffling leaves that glow with some kind of fluorescence, magic that you’d not once laid your eyes on in your entire life. had you not been in the deep wood of the enchanted forest, to find and kill the dragon prince, you would have admired them more. 

“why do you come, bearing a weapon?” 

perhaps you may have spent too long, admiring the glistening petals.

you gasp, whipping out your sword and holding its point to the throat of the boy before you. slowly, your eyes trail upwards, shock connecting in your irises as you realise that he’s...floating. the boy has the hair of the silver moon, eyes as deep blue as the rough and raging Gialara seas, his lips are the colour of a blood rose with small and pearlescent fangs resting comfortably against their plumpness. he also wears a loose silk shirt that hangs simply from one shoulder, exposing his pale and slightly scaled skin. his pants are also lose, black in colour like the night sky to match his shirt. you note, that while he floats upside down, head tilted back towards you and body arched, he is also barefoot. 

this must’ve been him, this must’ve been. “the dragon prince,” you hum cooly, steeling your eyes and reaffirming your stance. “i’m here to kill you.” your brows furrow in concentration, and the boy’s, in confusion. the dragon prince, pushes his bottom lip into a pout as he twists his body to face you fully. he sets himself down, against the plush grass and uses a single finger to flick your sword to the side. 

“you have found me, yes,” the boy nods, giving you a tilted and faint smirk after his curious stare fades away. “i am kim taehyung, son of Veles and prince of the dragons...” the dragon watches as your stance falters, mouth open in shock at his strength to manipulate your mother’s sword. your palms begin to sweat at the sound of his full title, the name of the dragon king reminding you of the loss of your mother. “and i know, you will not kill me. i sense your being is far too compassionate to kill a living thing.”

you huff, dropping your arms and sending the vile thing a seething scowl. “you don’t know a thing about me-“ 

“my apologies, princess YN, i’m afraid i don’t,” taehyung interrupts you, stepping forward to inspect you closely. it was almost as if he had never seen a human before, but then again he was nothing like what you expected, especially in a dragon prince. before you can blink, you have been cornered into a tree, completely vulnerable and in the open. if he wanted to, taehyung could kill you right then and there, for the first time that night, a sprinkle of fear and adrenaline pumps it’s way through your veins. you  glance up at the regal creature, shocked that he even knew such detail about yourself and bite your lip. “in that case, might you enlighten me as to, why you seek to take my life?”

taehyung is not what you expected at all, the question bouncing softly from his lips, as you begin to loosen up. his eyes shift to yellow under the light and you start to feel warm, as if you can trust him. “my father wants proof, that i would make a great and honourable Queen.” you explain bluntly, unsure of why the words feel foreign when mentioning it.

“interesting,” the prince comments, quirking  a brow and smirking down at you as he rises off of his feet. “humans and their need for death and honour, i will never understand.” 

and with that, taehyung disappears into the darkness of the forest. a chill runs up your spine, confused at your meeting but left wondering, what more was there to the dragon prince?

“...and then there’s the marriage proposal from prince seokjin, from the shatus kingdom overseas, would you like me to accept or deny?” jungkook drawls, feeling accomplished as he skips over the final sentence with a light frown. his heart clenches, but he doesn’t say anything further.

“yes, very good jungkook.” 

“YN...”

“mhm...”

jungkook sighs, closing his book before tucking it under his arm for safety. he wouldn’t have been so annoyed if you were at least, half listening to him. tapping his foot in annoyance, the young advisor furrowed his brow deeply. “well in that case, i’ll spread word to  the royal bakers that you will be requesting a cake made of pigs slop for the wedding party?” 

“sounds wonderful,” 

“...we’ll even give out small favours of their droppings too...”

“i’m sure the dukes and duchesses would love that, jeongguk...”

“i’m sure the whole kingdom would be delighted to know that you’re marrying kim seokjin.” 

you slam your palms down on the windows, whipping your head to look at jungkook in shock. an amused grin tugs at his lips, as he approaches you to ruffle your hair fondly. now you were paying attention. “i will do no such thing!” you protest, pink painted lips forming a pout as you make an effort you lay down your tundra of wild locks. “me? marriage? what a preposterous idea. i should have you executed for that.” 

“maybe now, you’ll learn to listen to me, your highness?” the raven haired boy titters, giving you an exaggerated bow. “you could never do such a thing to your oldest friend, YN.” yourself and jungkook had been acquainted ever since you could walk, a beautiful friendship blossoming over the many years. his father, had been your mother’s most trusted advisor during the war, he too passing away after the loss of your queen. it seemed that fate had its own twisted way of keeping yourself and jungkook together, for he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, much like you.

shaking your head, you push at his shoulders with a hidden grin and listen to the chime of his medallions as he sways. the silver lily on his chest, the symbol of the royal court, glistens much like the eyes of the man you met last night. taehyung’s beauty had entranced you so much, that the task at hand had been forgotten. of course, no one in the castle expected you to bring the head of a dragon back straight away...but something in you longed to see the awe, the shock and the respect on their faces when you did. they would learn to see you as their queen. 

but something about taehyung, made you weak in the knees. an inexplainable feeling, a shy tint to your cheeks and a beat in your heart. he was different, not at all what you expected. walking away from jungkook, you pivot on your heel, the flush to your cheeks becoming more obvious by the second. “there will be no more marriage proposals from now on, jungkook. make that clear to the neighbouring kingdoms.” you remark, nodding your head with the wisps of a smile against your lips. 

one of things, about having known you so long, is that jungkook could read you like an open book. the advisor could tell you were distracted, softer. it was almost as if his soon-to-be queen’s resistant and hard exterior had crumbled. this wasn’t your usual rejection of proposal, whereby you would growl and grumble so much so that the Huntcan tip mountains would quake in your presence. no, this was much like the time where the baker’s eldest son, yoongi, had snuck some treats up to your room when you were children. you had developed an infatuation for yoongi throughout your early teenage years, until he left the kingdom to open his own bakery, kissing you behind the rose bush in the royal garden on the night before he left. 

this was fascination, this was admiration. “you like someone,” jungkook teases lightly, a knowing smile tickling at the corners of his lips. “did you find a compatible suitor, is that it?” 

“the throne is my only object of affection,” you sigh, zealously. you twirled, a bright twinkle igniting stars in your eyes as the thought of taehyung’s silver lined ones and you can feel the excitement build in your veins. “a suitor? perhaps not,” the corner of your lips twitch up into a mischievous grin. “but the throne...it is a rather large one, is it not? awfully big for just one person.” 

jungkook raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed while his jaw tightens and his tongue pokes into his cheek. “i see, i’ll be sure to have the staff engage in some...extensive cleaning of the throne room. we can’t have her highness leaving messes.” he states, lips falling into a flat line. tilting your head, the glint in your eye dissipates and thick somber feeling fills the room. 

“jeonggukie?” you question with a quiet voice, swallowing thickly at his unexpected change in mood. 

the advisor shakes his head, tussled locks falling over his eyes. jungkook turns, shrugging with the book still tucked under his arms, prepared to leave the room. “if i may be excused, princess, i have duties to attend to.” 

“ah yes, of course...duties.” the whisper falls from between your lips, as you watch him go with an aching chest.

the view at castle ashwyn was one not to be taken for granted. the skies were daubed with gradients of apricot, papaya whip, and cherry blossom pink with dusting of baby power white as cotton candy clouds. the breeze was fresh, tinted with mint and rose, carrying the scents of the many flowers that twirled along the turquoise marble pillars of the castle. 

the grass outside was freshly cut all the way up to the village, where creatures of all kind walked amongst each other. pixies, werewolves, elves and all, living together in harmony and if you squinted hard enough, over the towering trees, you could see where they lived. the humans. 

taehyung hated it. 

the sickly sweetness that constantly surrounded himself and his people, where all that was in the human world was death, despair, greed and power imbalances. he hated the falsities that engulfed his father’s death, how everyone pretended. 

that there was no life of suffering outside of his own.  

it was beautiful here, life touched every corner to cover the illusion of the war beyond these walls. the prince felt trapped. he wanted to break free of all expectations, experience the world and see the legends he had been told as a child. taehyung was not a fool to the whispers, the taunts and teases from the royal courts. they had always doubted him for his optimistic view on the simple things, on them, for humans had taken his father and so he was destined to resent them for the rest of his life. 

“taehyung, my love, what preys on your mind today?” 

taehyung’s mother, the dragon queen, was a soft spoken and wise woman. ever since the death of his father, there had been many attempts to overthrow her from many kinds...including the sirens. and yet, they never once succeed as only royalty of dragon’s blood can bestow the crown. dragons had ruled the land of the Avalerian dynasty since the dawn of time, forging the first crown from the molten minerals buried deep beneath the castle’s soils. they were the most powerful of all creatures, dominating the earth as their large majestic forms but the dragons were also prime game for hunting, their scales and horns could go for up to a hundred gold coins. so the dragons learned to adapt, becoming shifters with a half human form, this allowed them to retain their abilities as dragons whilst allowing them to walk free amongst the humans.

the queen was stunning, and perhaps that is where the young prince inherited his charming look. her scales were of a deep cherry, shimmering under the lights like the brightest of diamonds. her black hair had curled tendrils that spiralled down her back and her skin was tanned by the golden suns of apollo. with piercing, aquatic eyes, queen elantris tilts her head to look at her son, she had always known his shifts in mood and thanked her maternal instinct for being able to read her ominous child.

“it’s nothing, your highness,” the young prince muses simply, turning to his mother with soft eyes and an awkward smile. smiling fondly, elantris shook her head and approached her son, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. her tail swishes behind her, in her half shifted state, the castle being too small to accommodate for the large size of royally bred dragons. taehyung spares a glance to the older, and shorter woman, squinting carefully to see the diamond-slit irises in her yellowing eyes. it was almost laughable at how well dragons were able to shift between states, taking on a human form is completely desired. that is how they killed the human king. mastering the art of disguise. “perhaps, i am exhausted, i had a rather gruelling night.” 

“deep in thought again, my love dear?” elantris chuckles, brushing back  the fading ashy locks from her son’s forehead. taehyung sucks in a calmed breath, closing his eyes at his mothers warm touch and allows himself to shift too. he is much more relieved to have is tail free, blackened and swishing behind him. his ears become pointed and irises shift into diamond slits. elantris beams as her child transforms. “you’ve been keeping yourself hidden, i see.” 

“i needed to be out, some fresh air to clear the mind, mother...” the prince whines and stretches, shivering as his ash scales form over his skin and hair fades from grey to black. 

taehyung pouts under the gaze of his mother, what a sight to see. the most regal prince, pouting under the amused gaze of his parent. “away with your thoughts, as you always have been, my prince...” elantris lilts and lets go of the boy, moving towards her seat on the throne. the seat itself is glorious, spiralling toward the ceiling with peaks in its molten crystal. “what preys on your mind?” 

the young dragon, ruffling out his hair and adjusting his clothes. he wears a jewelled black jacket, a gradient of white pearls to obsidian diamonds. he adorns a fitting pair of black pants and boots with heels. taehyung shift his gaze to the diluting pink skies above and breathes heavily. “humans...why is that we despise them?” 

taehyung’s mother sucks in a breath,  tongue swiping over the ruby of her lips. the prince turns his body to look at the queen properly, tilting is head and poking his own tongue into his cheek as he eases a brow, awaiting his mother’s answer. “dragons are stubborn creatures, most unforgiving...it is not easy for us to forget,” elantris explains noncommittally, keeping her voice study and demeanour controlled.

“what is there to be forgotten? how did this all start?” 

“that is what we have yet to learn my son, this conflict has been raging on for centuries now, words and swords alike...twisted,” the dragon queen pauses, looking her son directly in the eye. “twisted into lies and fatalities...”

“and so...we fight?” taehyung prompts, his stomach bubbling with unease at his mother’s cryptic words. 

elantris nods, head held high. “and so, we fight.” 

“you are forgiven, you know.” 

you look up from your flower crown, fluorescent roses and tiger lillies woven together by their grass green stems and frown. taehyung is sitting in the trees, his hair is now the colour of a teal tinged with blue while his eyes simmered a warm amber in the cool night. 

meeting taehyung had been nothing but a coincidence, yet you found yourself becoming grateful for your accidental meetings. the clearing you shared with him had followed you to your dreams, being with him under the moonlight now brought you to ease.

“forgive me for what? do tell.” you probe tartly and turn your body in the grass to ask why. the dragon prince drops from the tree and you screw your eyes shut in fear of hearing the sickening crunch that often accompanies broken bones. but instead the prince floats above you, face but mere inches from yours as a taunting smirk touches lightly at his lips. a rosey hue tickles the apples of your cheeks as you look away, cursing the creature from under your breath. 

taehyung smiles and settles himself on the ground, sinking to his knees to aid you in making some flower crowns. “for being human,” the dragon shrugs nonchalantly and picks up a completed crown, leaning forward to place it stop your hair. his lips are a breaths width from your skin, and a warmth bubbles in your chest at the prospect of feeling them against yours, eyes closing. when you open them, you gasp at the proximity of they prince, blinking rapidly and blushing. he’s so close that it seems like he was watching you. “mother says dragons must learn to be forgiving. so here i am, forgiving you.” 

“what makes you think, that you are not required to seek my forgivenesses well?” you counter as a slight aggression weaves it’s way into your question, tilting your head upwards with stern eyes. taehyung bites his lip, slit tongue poking out to wet them at their swell. “should you not owe it to me? while my people die fighting against your best men, do you not believe that an apology from yourself, would be quite fitting?” 

you chose this moment to shuffle away from taehyung, turning to face the trees

in the distance as you pat the heat away from your cheeks. “your people have magic, powers. and mine? nothing but a bare chest, swords and a shield. yet, you do not hear me forcing the forgiveness of my people upon you,” you point out— almost too harshly, twirling a piece of grass between your fingers. “you sit, protected in your realm while only your most powerful touch the bloodied soils. you kill, as do i. i do not seek your forgiveness, but the life of my people instead. the life of young boys,” a pause in your speech allows your mind to flicker back to hoseok, your fingers how clenching the grass within your disgust. “barely fit to fight, that are drafted into the war. women and children who are torn apart. please, forgive me, for not wanting to accept your so called forgiveness.”

“how do you know this? that we only send out best?” taehyung queries nervously, his tone quiet as his feet come into your blurry field of view. he senses in his chest that you’re hurt, scared and in pain. this is what the war did, not to his people but to the humans. it hurt you. everyone. 

the laugh that passes your lips, is cold and cynical. your eyes possess a glassiness, glittering with fresh tears as you look to taehyung with anger painted against your face. “you have just told me.”  

guilt washes over the dragon as he crouches down before you, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up to face him. his thumb brushes the tears that spill from the corner of your eyes as his lips form the words that whisper, “i’m sorry.” 

he is sorry for your pain, he is sorry for the burden that you bare on your shoulders. he is sorry that he cannot make it stop, he is sorry. 

the following weeks bring you back to the clearing, where taehyung desperately tries to erase his night of ignorance. you would meet nightly, under the sky with glittering constellations and stars that told a thousand and one stories. you were away from the world where lives were torn apart and the cloud of death was ever growing. 

you were alone and happy.

taehyung would show you many of his tricks, how he could birth a flame just by the click of his fingers. how he could make smoke rise from his ears and nose and how the colour of his hair changed with his mood. the prince had become your friend, a regular occurrence to your life that you could not deal without. 

but tonight, you would be prevented from such luxuries. 

the tips of your fingers dabbed lightly at your lips, buffing the ruby red into your flesh. a maid worked by your side, primping and prepping locks of your hair so that they shone under the crystal lights. your makeup was light, yet fierce, shades of mint and green spreading across your eyelids to match the fitting ballroom gown you wore. it was lace that curled into silver lily flowers,  from the shoulders and down to your hips, twisting into a wide tule skirt that was painted with frosted blues and mint green fading into white. a necklace of pure diamonds rested just above your breast,  a matching crown woven into your tamed hair and a pair of earrings, your mother’s earrings to go with. as you sit still, letting the maids pretty you for the evening to come, you recall a time where you would have loved to be in a dress like this. times where your mother would only faintly dust your cheeks with blush whilst your father readied hoseok in the other room. tamarae was but a twinkle in your mother’s eye back then.

the girl in the mirror stares back at you, the trace of queen aadaya on her skin. closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to calm your aching heart and hum in agreement when the doors to your quarters open. tamarae beamed at you as her own maids helped her inside, she was a gown less bold than your own but equally pretty as fuchsia pinks spiralled soft lavenders. dresses like these were reserved for special occasions, to impress guests from outside castle walls, making a sick shiver crawl down your spine at the thought of elder dukes and lords and men vying for the attention of yourself and the young princess. 

of course,  the banquet for tonight was your father’s doing, in an attempt to find you a suitor right away. he claimed that you had failed to prove yourself in the last weeks, with no trace of the dragon’s heart in your possession. so with nothing but the grace of the queens before you, you accepted his invitation to host a banquet.

“you look beautiful, sister...you’ve grown so well,” you stand slowly, lifting your skirts to make your way over to the young princess. she bows her head in a small curtesy for you causing you to chuckle fondly. you allow your finger under her chin to tilt her head up, smiling softly at the girl, the spitting image of your mother. “now now, you are my sister, tamarae. formalities are not required for tonight, even if it is a special event,” you tease with a whisper in her ear, causing the younger to giggle slightly. “for you and i both know we shall be sneaking into the royal kitchen after the night is done!” 

tamarae tucks a white lock of hair behind her ear, giggling happily as her small hands clasp onto yours. “big sister, we both know hoseokie would have made me take watch if he were here,” she remarks in response  and pokes your nose, ignoring the glares of maids who had spent hours perfecting your look. 

as a young adult— becoming a queen, the ballroom was often a reminder of simpler days whereby warm summery breezes wafted through the large french windows, carrying soft scents of the fresh lemons and oranges that grew in the royal gardens. hoseok would have been chasing you down, playing the role of big bad dragon whilst you pulled a fumbling two year old tamarae behind you. your parents would always come running in to save the day, mother playing the knight that took hoseok down and your father the one who saved his two princesses. 

those were happier times, better times.

before you knew it, you were seated on the throne with the best view of the entire room. the ballroom had towering white pillars sprouting like flowers against a mahogany glossed wooden floor, the walls are splashed with an egg-shell blue with small cherry blossoms contrasting against the colour. accents of gold decorate every nook and cranny of the room and the ceiling paints a picture of fairytale creatures dancing amongst the man. men gallop across the hall with blushing ladies in their arm, those who aren’t dancing are stuffing their faces with the array of sweet treats and savoury delights that are positioned precisely against white sheet banquet tables. 

introductions pass without you paying any mind, distracted by thoughts of taehyung whisking you away to your clearing in the forest, playing with the many creatures there. you slip back to reality when a sudden pain spreads across your left rib, making you scowl at the culprit...tamarae. the younger smiles sheepishly and points to the man apparoaching your throne. 

his hair is a soft, candy pink, contrasting with the black blouse and dress pants he wore. when he bows to yourself and your sister, you catch a glimpse of his dark, misty brown eyes and find yourself curious to search them more. “he’s handsome,” tamarae teases you, moving to stand up as he steps forward. her gaze flickers up to your stoic face as she giggles. “don’t you think?” 

“he looks like he’s full of himself.” 

the man eyed you darkly while you held out your hand for him to take. “namjoon, kim namjoon...” his voice sends shivers down your spine, good or bad , you’re not sure. his skin is golden like honey and his tone drips with the same smoothness. “of the Kevimore kingdom.” 

namjoon gives you a dimples smile, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lush lips for a gentle kiss. tamarae giggles by your side as you watch the man through your lashes, humming in content. it was always nice to see a man bend his will for you. “you may address me, as princess YN of the Phantis Empire,” you say, equally as smoothly whilst you tilt your head to the side. namjoon straightens his posture, bowing in respect. “i do hope you enjoy your stay here, tonight.” 

with your final word, you turn your gaze to the crowd and watch as they twirl about in tune with the orchestra but smile when you catch the eye of your beloved advisor. you had not danced at a ball like this, since you were a child and back then, hoseok had always been your partner but he wasn’t here now, he was fighting a war that wasn’t his. your sister delivers a sharp elbow to your side, causing you to grunt as you ready to scold her into next year. “ahem,” she whispers, jabbing your side again and nodding her head in gesture to namjoon. “he’s still here.” 

“i’m aware,” 

“that means he requires your attention.” 

“attention that i do not have for a man, tamarae.”

“YN, he’s right there!” 

“and he can hear you...” namjoon interjects with a small chuckle, poking his tongue into his cheek while his lips form an amused smirk. he taps his ear while a light flush rises beneath the skin of your cheeks, much to the prince’s delight. 

you duck your head, imagining that the prince before you gets off at the thought of making you blush. “is there anything i can help you with, prince namjoon?” 

he nods once, pink locks falling into his eyes as his dimples smile appears once more. “a dance, with you? my queen?” 

blinking, your lips part in shock. the only person to ever acknowledge you as the soon to be queen was jungkook, and that was often a joke between the two of you. but for a split second, it seemed— that namjoon’s dark, stormy eyes saw past the extravagance and diamonds— and saw you. the queen you were meant to be. 

“she would love to,” you sister answers for you, pushing at your shoulder to force you to stand. you rise to your feet,  unsteady on them and almost toppling forward. namjoon quickly catches you by the arm, offering you an earth shattering smile with dazzling eyes as he chooses that moment to lead you onto the ballroom floor. following namjoon, you turn around and give your younger sister a faux frown, sticking your tongue out at her. the maids around you gasp at your behaviour, while tamarae giggles and mocks your face.

upon reaching the dance floor, namjoon skilfully pulls you into his arms, pressing his chest to yours to guide your steps into the waltz. “you’re light on your feet, are you sure you’re not a dancer?” he chuckles quietly into your ear, making goosebumps arise across the planes of your skin. 

you turn with him, taking the lead from his grasp and smile cheekily. “i’m trained to fight, being light on my feet is part of the battle.” but your grin quickly falls upon seeing jungkook turn away with disappointment, what was going on with him? 

“ah, i see.” the prince falls silent at your words, offering you a quiet noise of agreement as the pace of the music rises and you start to speed up your dance. 

namjoon is a handsome man, his terracotta lips seem warm and inviting, his eyes although dark make you want to lose yourself in him. the prince is tall, at least a head or so taller than you and his arms that hold you are firm and large. namjoon is attractive but...

but he is not taehyung. 

the pink haired prince dips you, face hovering over yours as he takes a moment to tuck a fallen hair behind your ear. your cheeks heat up at his proximity but you swallow down your nerves and stutter out. “n-namjoon...i,” 

“you’re beautiful, my queen,” he says simply, running a thumb over your bottom lips before he pulls you back into his chest. “what i wouldn’t give to have you ruling by my side.”

“e-excuse me?”

“you’d make an excellent wife, YN.” 

gobsmacked, you try to rip yourself away from namjoon but his grip on your waist is too tight and suddenly he no longer looks charming and gentle, a sinister stare taking over his features. “let me go, namjoon. by order of the princess i demand that you let me go!” you scoff at him through gritted teeth still struggling in his grip. “if you believe that flattery will get you my hand in marriage then you are severely mistaken, my prince. i am a queen born to rule without a man, and i shall do so, just fine.” 

namjoon tilts his head in a sympathetic fashion, pressing you closer to him. “oh but princess, we are already on the path to being wed,” he hums, his lips ghosting over yours as you squirm away from his touch. “by order of your father, i am set to marry you three weeks from now, since you failed to bring the head of the dragon prince.” 

“no that’s not, it can’t be...he wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do that,” you mumble, feeling panic rise in your chest and lodge itself in your throat. your perfect world suddenly shatters, your view for the future torn to shreds. your father had sold your soul away to namjoon, who you now saw as a man who yearned for power. “he can’t.”  

“then your father is not the man you believed him to be.” namjoon concludes. “now put on a pretty face and smile for our loyal subjects, my queen.”

you gasp with tears beginning to flood your field of view, your eyes searching in the crowd for someone, anyone to tell you it’s not true. who’s face falls at your wounded expression, he knows, you think. jungkook knew and he didn’t think to tell you. your heart shatters into a million pieces and all you can think is out out out. you need to get out. 

but for now you turn to namjoon and give him a dazzling smile through your tears, as jungkook watches you with a guilty gaze.

running.

they say that running is able to clear your mind. but instead all of your thoughts and fears ran wildly beside you as you bolted through the forest. you could feel them, all of your worst nightmares crawling up your spine and scratching at your skin as you tumbled through the forest. 

by the time you reach the clearing, you’re clawing at your throat and desperately gasping for air through your choked sobs. you can’t marry namjoon, you won’t marry namjoon. your body trembles with the sobs that wrack your tiny frame, the dress that you wear is suddenly too tight and all you can do is wail for an escape. 

“YN! you have returned, i have to admit i missed you dearly-“ taehyung starts to ramble, just having come from a flight amongst the canopies. the dragon cuts himself off when he notices you collapsing onto your knees and tearing at the dress. “princess YN? YN, are you alright?” he drops to his knees beside you, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. the prince hates the way your chest is heaving, how a wild panic has spread through your darling eyes. “breathe for me princess, it’s alright, i’ve got you.” 

your eyes stay with his as taehyung coaches you through, his ice like irises calming you down as they watch you with concern. the dragon prince brushes a hand through your hair to soothe you as you hiccup and sniff, attempting to ease your panic. “off, i want it off, all of it...” you grumble moving to tear at your gown. taehyung follows your movements, using a  shifted dragon claw to shred off the remains of your skirt and help you out of the tight fitting corset until all that remains is your sheer and tule petticoat. 

“better?” your companion asks, pulling you into his silk shirt. taehyung is warm, much morse so compared to the cool evening, you remember him explaining that dragons have a heart of coal. meaning that the blood that flows through them is heated and molten. 

you nod shakily and move to hold his hand as a wave of comfort washes over you. “much, thank you taehyung.” 

“are you going to tell me what happened?” the prince presses gently, not wanting you to hold it in. if there was anything taehyung had learned about you in the last few weeks, is that you never had an outlet. you were closed off from the world, locked away and never let anyone see the vulnerable sides of you and yet...you somehow found it in you to trust him. 

nodding slowly, you turn and bury your face into his firm chest, fisting at the silk of his new azure blouse. “my father...” you sigh, letting your breath even out as you stumble to find the words. “he betrayed my trust...he turned the court against me and made them promise me to another man...” you feel taehyung’s breath hitch as his chest moves. quickly, you move to look up at taehyung and all you can think to do is kiss him but you can’t, not when you’re now promised to another. “i don’t love him, i could never be in love with someone so horrible.”

the now raven haired, dragon prince says nothing, instead choosing to squeeze you closer into his broad frame. he doesn’t look at you, mind racing a million miles an hour. you were to be married. and it wouldn’t be to him. so it is with a waking start that taehyung realises he is deeply, sorely in love with you. his chest rumbled at the thought of another man’s hands on you, kissing you and touching you, touching what was his. without meaning to, you place your hands on taehyung’s chest and grab at his attention. his usual ocean eyes flash with yellow and his primal senses are suddenly full of you. all he can see is your face under the light of the moon and stars, all he can feel is your touch on him and all he can smell is the sweet scent of lilies, of you. 

“tae...taehyung?” you whisper, sniffling as you lean up and tilt his head to look at you. “i will be alright, i refuse to let this stop me from seeing you.” 

he ignores your words, pulling you to stand with him. “lets go for a fly.” the prince says with bright eyes, staring at you.

“a fly? taehyung have you lost your mind-?” 

“it’ll be fun, i promise you. it’ll clear your head.” 

you slowly tear yourself from taehyung’s grip, holding your hand to your chest with a nervousness swirling in your stomach. flying. taehyung had told you that he was able to fully transform into a dragon, with all the same abilities as well. he called it shifting, and that meant he was able to breathe fire, roar like a mighty beast and fly. “i’m scared...” you admit, sheepishly. “what if...what if i fall?” 

“do you trust me?” taehyung asks sternly, stepping towards you and holding his hand out for you to take. 

“i...what?” 

“i said, do you trust me?” 

you hesitate before closing your eyes tightly and nodding, taking taehyung’s hand. “i trust you.” 

your eyes remain screwed shut as the crunch of bones fills the unoccupied silence of the woods. you flinch at the sound and the slip of taehyung’s hand from yours, whilst his heaves and groans become growls and roars. away from the warmth of taehyung’s body, you realise how cold the forest is in just your petticoat but you’re shivers are quickly ceased when a puff of hot hair surrounds you and a large head nudges your body. opening your eyes slowly, you gasp at the large beast before you, the taehyung that you know has been replaced with an oblivion black dragon, hints of silver and blue illuminating his scales under the shimmering night sky. the dragon presses it’s head to your hand, making you reach out hesitantly as you stare deep into its amber irises. 

‘do you trust me?’ 

you remember taehyung’s words as the majestic beast bows to you, you chuckle and watch as the dragon moves back, stretching out to spread its wings. you imagine that the wings themselves must be as wide as the west wing of your castle back home. when the dragon returns to his original position, you’re met with a puff of warm air, strong enough to blow locks of your hair away from your face. “impatient creature, aren’t you?” you giggle to yourself and clamber up onto taehyung’s head, making him shake it in response. 

with a deep breath, you hold on tightly to the spines feathering taehyung’s neck and close your eyes once more, listening to the sounds of his wings flap as he lifts you both off of the ground. the next time you open your eyes, you’re up in the air, soaring above the clouds. the pair of you are so high that the colour of the sky fades from a soft pink to the deep blue below, the beginnings of the sun shining in the distance. 

then taehyung makes a nose dive. 

the air rushes through your hair as you squeal, heading face first for the land beneath you. taehyung spirals his body as you throw your hands into the air, squealing loudly with happiness, you can feel every fear and doubt that clogged your mind and body rush away with the wind in your face. the dragon prince evens out his body, spreading his wings as you drift across the night sky, watching the world go by with you above it. you lean forward and rest the palms of your hands on taehyung’s, stroking it lightly as you fly past the stars.

when the clearing reappears in your field of view, taehyung tilts his body and begins the descent through the clouds. he flies low, letting you reach your hand out to touch the glistening water below. “w-woah, tae...taehyung!” you cry in amusement, feeling him shift beneath you, his bones realign as he grows tired and reverts back to his human form. his wings somehow manage to remain as the prince’s familiar face returns and he beams up at you. his wings encircle you as you make a crash landing into the clearing. the pair of you roll and tumble out onto the illuminated grass below you, taehyung’s wings protecting you and softening your fall. you manage to uncurl in his grip, landing beneath him as his palms flatten out by your head to stop himself from crushing you. 

“hi...” you pant, looking up at the dragon prince with glittering eyes. your hand reaches up to touch at taehyung’s soft face, his eyes still golden glowing irises and his curled hair now a faded black. he’s beautiful, he always has been but in this moment, you feel like you have finally see him. you can finally see that you love him.

taehyung looks down at you through hooded eyes, moving to run a thumb over your pinkish bottom lip, his breath uneven from the flight. “hello, my queen.” he says simply, face nearing yours. you feel your lashes against your cheeks as your eyes flutter shut, taehyung nosing your cheeks until his soft lips reach your own. hands in your hair, the prince tilts his head and kisses you. his lips mould perfectly against yours and you can feel your heartbeat wildly in your chest as your arms wrap around his neck and fingers curl in his wavy locks. taehyung kisses you like you’re his, and only his and all you want is to feel is him.

taehyung’s hands use a tentative touch as they slide down to your sides, slipping under your petticoat to smooth over your bare skin. you gasp as his lips venture out into the junction at your neck, curling your fingers in his hair as his hands push further and further up your clothes. he roams your skin like foreign terrain— fingers dipping at peaks and the curve of your body.  “taehyung...” you whimper breathlessly, pushing your head back into the lush grass below. 

the dragon freezes at the sound passing from your lips, moving to pull away. “are you hurt? did i hurt you?” taehyung asks worriedly, honey  eyes boring into your soul. you sit up, confused as you shake your head no, wondering if your eagerness to kiss him has driven him away. “i’ve never...i haven’t done this before...” the ravenette adds, gesturing between you both. never done...what? 

oh...

“been with a women before?” you ask gently, sitting up and leaning your chin on taehyung’s shoulder. you tilt your gaze towards him, smiling softly and move to cup his cheek. “i have never...been with a man either...you would be my first.” you whisper shyly, you had little time for courting as a princess, your royal duties taking up much of your time. but here you were, curled up with taehyung on possibly the most beautiful place on earth, feeling more ready than you had ever been.

“let me have you, if you will?” the prince asks lowly, warm breath fanning over your lips.

“you have me, all of me...” 

that was all it took for taehyung to crash his lips against yours once more, this time his tongue tracing over the seam of your own as he pleads for entrance to your mouth. you happily oblige, welcoming his warm tongue with your own in a battle for dominance, dancing together while his large hands pulled at your under clothes. you arched your back, letting him tug the tule garment off of you and spreading your thighs as he nudged them apart. 

“you’re so beautiful,” taehyung murmurs, pulling back from the kiss to admire you. his amber irises darkened to a dark gold as he drunk in your naked body, leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. “i want to mark you...” he added, biting down on your supple flesh and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. “fuck you, breed you. would you like that princess?” he growls. 

you arch your back as his hands come to cup your breast, squeezing them between slender fingers whilst he works a trail of purples down to your chest. “god, please...taehyung!” 

chuckling deeply, using his  dragon abilities, the prince blows a gust of hot air over your left nipple once his mouth reaches its destination. his snake like tongue pokes out to lick a stripe over the perky bud before he takes your breast into his mouth harshly, biting down and letting his primal instincts take over. even if he was a virgin, being a dragon, taehyung was genetically programmed to please during breeding seasons. he knew what he was doing, especially when you moaned aloud. 

a hand slips down your sides and into your panties, circling over your clit to spread your wetness as it glistened under the moonlight. “you’re soaking, my princess,” taehyung hums, still squeezing your breast as he sucked your nectar off of his fingers. “may i taste you?” 

“yes, please...” you gasp.

taehyung raises an unimpressed brow, pinching your nipple causing you to whine. “please what?”

eyes rolling, you moan out the only title you can think of, hoping it will urge the dragon on. “please...my king.”  

the prince with obsidian hair curses under his breath, making quick work of tearing off your panties and shuffling onto his belly on the grass so that he nears your entrance. taehyung spreads your lower lips widely, chuckling at the juices that flow from your flower. “so pretty, petal.” he says, watching you writhe under the night air before locking eyes with you through his curled locks. the air that hits your pulsing heat, is cool but taehyung’s breath is hothothot. his lush lips suckle on your clit before his burning tongue swipes over the length of your pussy, heated from his dragon’s core. taehyung sweeps at any of your sweet nectar that gushes from your hole, humming in content before pushing his tongue past your entrance making you cry from pleasure and curl your fingers in his hair. 

“look at you, absolutely dripping just for your king,” taehyung growls against your burning cunt, the vibrations sending your eyes rolling back in your head. desire burns brightly in the pits of your stomach, as you start to rut your hips into his face, the prince having neglected your wetness in favour of whispering foul words into your thighs. taehyung flicks at your swollen clit, making your legs wobble and threaten to close around his head. not that you would mind the view. “such beautiful sight, baby.” 

he dove his tongue into your tight hole, as arousal fogged your senses and his instincts to your body heightened. the world between your sweet thighs was slick, tasting of the most luxurious of treats to taehyung and he could tell he was becoming addicted to you. a finger slipped past your entrance, along with his tongue, thrusting inside of you and catching on the walls of your pussy. you wriggled against the grass, spread out in the open nature whilst taehyung claimed you with his tongue. “m close, m close!” you squealed when taehyung added another finger, fearing that your high was coming to soon. the prince was giving you pleasure that you had never felt before, that couldn’t be achieved with your own hand or imagination. you weren’t sure that you wanted it to end.

nimble fingers gripped at taehyung’s mop of sooty hair as he lapped faster and faster at your sensitive bud, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter until suddenly...it snapped. “cum for me, princess, reward your king.” 

white flashes behind your eyes as your release crashes over you, signs of your arousal painting taehyung’s chin and face. he licks over his bottom lip, chest rumbling at the taste of you before he moves between your thighs to and up to your face. he kisses you sweetly, once...twice... allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before deepening the kiss. the pair of you become a pile of limbs, entangled in the grass as teeth and tongue clash together. your hands wind down the path way of the prince’s body, stopping above his belt loop hesitantly. 

taehyung forces himself to pull away from your onslaught of kisses, pressing his forehead to yours— eyes closing with a pant falling from his lips. “you don’t have to...” he mumbles, lips ghosting over yours while he noses your cheek.

 taehyung’s hair brushes softly over your forehand, his eyes tightly shut away from the world as if, when he sees you again, he won’t be able to control himself. you stare up at him, taking in his every mole and freckle that dots his face. you trust him. “i want to, please— let me, my liege.” you insisted, a neediness sparking in your eyes.

“fuck...the things you do to me, princess,” hisses hotly, his cock twitching in his briefs as you rolled him over. the dragon prince quickly stood, helping position you comfortably on your knees before letting his hands fly to the buckle of his breeches. watching him closely, you felt your mouth water in anticipation— you’d never in your life seen a man in full glory before, let alone a mythical creature such as taehyung. you suspected him to be girthy, but your expectations were exceed as he proceeded to roll down his breeches and undergarments in one. 

taehyung’s cock was not only thick and girthy, but lengthy as well, so big that for a brief second, you were unsure that your own two hands would fit around it, let alone your mouth. your jaw dropped in awe as your eyes observe him. “well...uh, there’s something about us dragon’s that.... that perhaps i failed to mention-“ taehyung but his lip with nervousness, his confident and dominant aura suddenly wavering. 

“you have two heads-“ you blurt out, gaze trained on the second head of his forked member. “there’s two!” 

the prince blushes, running a hand through his curled hair and swallowing thickly. “for mating purposes, it increases the success of a female carrying...” taehyung pauses is breathe explanation, frowning deeply as you touch curiously at his cock. “—carrying offspring, princess.” 

the pet name comes out as some what of a warning, making you smile sheepishly at the man above you. “it’s got spines, taehyung...you cant expect me not to touch you!” you defend yourself,  watching him closely. “it’s hot too.” 

“for pleasure purposes, dragons are also naturally hot.” 

“do you think it will fit? i’ve not been with a man before i-“

seemingly sensing the nerves that stir in your stomach, taehyung leans down to grip your chin and tilts your head upwards to catch your eye. “i’ve got you, petal,” he whispers and presses a light chaste kiss to your lips. “do you trust me?” 

“yes, more than anything.” you breathe, settling back onto your knees as taehyung guides your mouth towards his pulsing cock. your eyes trail up his body as he tugs off his shirt from above you, his skin is glazed with a layer of sweat and desire pours through your system like the molten lava that intertwines with his dragon blood. you imagine that he tastes sweet, like the finest wines of the Ubeozia dynasties. 

leaning forward you shakily take taehyung’s tips past your lips, sucking on it hesitantly while he starts to groan. the dragon sucks in a breath from the night air as you take him further into your mouth, looking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “you’re doing so well, my darling  princess, so good for me.” he sighs.

his cock his hot against your tongue, forming tingling sensation at your lips while you work on bobbing your head. curses fall out from underneath taehyung’s breathy moans whilst his eyes flash golden like Apollo’s sun. his large hands thread between your loosened locks as they tickle at your exposed shoulders, encouraging you to give him more. 

your hands sit small on the base of his girth, fisting at what you cannot fit making a wetness pool between the apex of your thighs as you think about being stuffed full of him. taehyung lets out a small moan, closing his eyes and throwing his head back to face the stars as he shallowly thrusts his length into your welcoming mouth. your tongue works circles around his cock making taehyung’s fingers curl in your hair, massaging your scalp as he gently pushes your hot mouth further down on his pulsing, red hot cock. 

he hisses and grunts when you’re tongue glides over his slit, abdomen clenching as he feels himself fall into his high. you gasp as the dragon paints your tongue with a smokey release, his cum is a foreign feel against your tongue but brings you satisfaction as he quivers through the after shocks of his orgasm. softly, you let go of his member, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip to capture the rest of his cum— keeping your eyes trained on him. 

“how does it taste?” taehyung asks darkly, sinking into his knees to cup your face.

you hum for a moment, parting your lips gently as his thumb brushes over them. “salty, no...ashy.” you conclude, breathing lightly. taehyung quirks a brow, leaning forward to press a searing kiss to your lips, his tongue swipes over your bottom one as he gradually pushes you back into the lush grass, positioning himself between your legs.

“that’s because our release is fuelled by the fires that burn in our hearts,” the prince explains, pulling away from your lips to whisper in your ear. now that you’ve tasted me, it’s time i mark your beautiful little cunt.” 

you gasp as the tips of his thick cock brush as your entrance, instinctively locking your thighs around his hips. your chest rises and falls with the anticipation of having taehyung, the man you love, claim you. you’re in love, you love taehyung with all your heart and now he was to make you his. sighs of adoration fill the air between you as taehyung slowly pushes into your virgin hole, of course, having more than one tip would make it hurt, but only just— making your nails dig into the skin at taehyung’s shoulder. 

he stops is movements, the prince knows that it will be difficult for your tiny human body to handle his stamina and size, after all, you had already cum once and were nearing exhaustion. “i’m sorry, my petal...my queen, i know it hurts,” he cooes, nosing at your neck to ease the pain. one hand curls in taehyung’s thick locks as he fully enters you with one tip of his cock, the second slowly slipping past the lips of your cunt. the dragon prince drops a hand to your clit, slowly rubbing in circles until the pleasure overrides the sting where you bleed. “you’re doing so well for me, taking all of my cock like the good queen you are.” 

taehyung waits for you to adjust as he continues to lazily flick at your bud, while you slowly start to open up for him like the roses at his mother’s place. “please...move taehyungie...move!” you mewl, throwing your head back into the soft grass as pleasure begins to overwhelm your senses.

the prince smiles down at you, taking in the the twisted look of delight against your delicate features and the curve of your breast as you arch your back. taehyung bottoms out inside of you, gently thrusting his length within your tight, dripping walls and closes his eyes at the sound of your sweet moans. you feel like you were made just for him, for him only and when he opens his eyes, he can’t help but lean down and claim your mouth, slipping his tongue past the barriers of your lips when you part them. 

“look at you, princess, so tight for me— your king,” he praises tenderly against your hips, dropping his face to your neck as you tighten around him involuntarily. “you’re mine, made for me and my cock. you got that princess?” 

“yours, yours my king.” you pant, fingertips dancing across the expanse of your lover’s freckled back.

taehyung deepens his thrusts, the spines on his cock catching against your slick walls as he reaches deeper inside of you. he sucks a little of bruises into your neck, purples, pinks and burgundies painting a picture of his love for you while he works their. your hips lift to match his thrusts, sucking him in as you both move together under the moonlight. the sounds of love filled moans and groans fills the cool air of the forest, long forgotten as taehyung pounds into you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. his grunts send shivers down your spine, making you arch your back into him. taehyung pushes your hips down, pushing his member into your sweet spot causing more of your juicies to gush down your wobbling thighs. 

you bite your lip in an attempt to silence your cries, an unexplainable wave of pleasure coursing through your veins as taehyung yanks your hips down to his. “s’good…please don’ stop,” you slur pathetically into the night, a sheen of sweat dousing your skin, the sound of your desperation making the head’s taehyung’s length twitch inside of you. he wasn’t sure how long he would last, with the way your virgin cunt clamped down on him like a vice. the tightness was almost unbearable, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “need you, need you m-my king!” 

taehyung’s mop of hair drops to your collar bones as he bites on them to silence his growls of possession. “fuck me, princess, fuck,” he slurs, his cock swelling as if he’s about to burst. the first head of his member stimulating that special spot, while the other fills your needy hole. “wonder what your courts would say if they saw you like this, princess,” taehyung pants into your neck, one hand sliding between your bodies to stimulate your clit while the other grips your breast, as he leans against you, pressing his hips into yours. “saw their queen spread out for the dragon king so desperate and needy for his dragon cock...fuck baby, what would they say?” 

“t-they’d be ... ashamed!” you squeal, arching your back and lifting your hips to meet taehyung’s thrusts. 

he smirks, fucking into you harder, until you’re full to the brim and you can feel him deep in your womb. “but i wouldn’t be, m’ so proud of my princess for taking me like this...” taehyung pants, looking deep into your eyes, sweaty hair falling over his own amber irises. “cum with me, my love.” 

you grab and pull at taehyung, touching at skin hair and lips as your release starts to creep up on you. the pace of taehyung’s hips never slow but start to become sloppy as your senses become overwhelmed with him. the tips of his cock brush at your spot once more, making you scream with pleasure as the damn finally bursts and you cream on his member, painting him with your release as the first spirts of his cum fill your hole. “taehyung, tae..please,” you cry, soft tears springing in your eyes as he locks his gaze on yours, hips slowing to a grind as he pumps his thick, hot seed inside of you. there’s so much, never ending as his release gathers within your cunt, searingly hot as lewd sounds of your wetness’ mixing fills the air. “i love you...”

your words are barely above a whisper, tears of warmth and happiness spilling from your eyes as taehyung cups your cheeks and swoops down to kiss you lovingly. “i love you so much, more than anything.” he responds, never ending his onslaught of kisses. 

taehyung doesn’t soften inside you, making another wave of neediness wash over your body. he loved you, he loved you just as you did with him. the kisses become sweeter and sweeter, like the finest honey against your tongue and you smile against taehyung’s lips as he lifts you into his arms. “you love me.” it’s more of a statement than a question, but taehyung answers regardless, brushing strands of hair away from your face.

“i will always love you, beyond my dying breath.” 

the dragon scoops you up, carrying you to a nearby tree and leaning back against it, refusing to put you down despite your giggles and protests. you notice, from over his shoulder that moon lillies grow in place of the spot you made love in. “what’s that?” you ask quietly, as taehyung sits, turning you around gently in his lap and barely lifting you from his cock. 

he watches darkly as only small traces of his charcoal black cum seep from your cunt before he follows your gaze to the flowers. “those, moon lillies appear when a dragon has found his or her mate, in place of where they have mates for the first time.” he mumbles shyly, hiding his face in your neck and kissing the back of your shoulder. 

“let’s... let’s make more,” you whisper and admire the flowers that act as a symbol of your love. although your thighs still shake from your last two releases, you pull your hips forward and drag them back against taehyung’s lap, twitching around his length from the overstimulation. your turn your head to face the dragon prince from over your shoulder, watching as his chest heaves with pleasure. “make love to me, dragon king. make love to your queen.” 

taehyung’s hips twitch at your words, the ghost of his fingertips settling on your hips  before gripping them harshly, helping to move you back and forth against his cock. “as you wish my queen,” he mumbles, starting to move his own hips in time with yours. “you’re going to be the death of me, love.” 

taehyung bites down harshly on your shoulder as you begin to mewl, lifting yourself off of your cock and slamming your hips back down. the spines on taehyung’s cock stimulate your spasming, cum soaked walls, catching on each ridge and causing you to shiver. the forest is once more filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, and a mixture of lost words and moans and ‘i love you’s. you are lost with taehyung, in a world of your own as he claims your cunt over and over again with each thrust. 

you circle your hips, clenching around the thick cock that stretches you open and gasp when one of taehyung’s heads slip out from your tight core. biting your lip, you take a finger and coat it in the remainder of your last orgasms and smear it against taehyung’s tip, thumbing it hardly. the prince groans, hips stuttering as he lets out a loud moan, thrusting into you at a faster pace and circling himself inside of you. “princess, please...fuck me.” 

“forever, my sweet.” you whisper, slapping the head against your cock before pushing it back into your entrance. you rock yourself back and forth, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as your sensitive pussy pulses with want. you know, you will not last as long as the previous rounds, indicated by your throbbing clit and collapse forward against taehyung’s legs. the dragon takes this as an opportunity to slap his palm against your bare ass, watching the flesh jiggle at the contact. 

you squeal at the spank, sinking your fingers into the grass as taehyung repeats his ministrations on each of your cheeks. his cock swells with every desperate moan that passes from your lips, stretching your tight cunt open to accommodate for his cum. he wants to breed you, fuck you full of all of his dragon seed and watch your stomach swell at the heavy load. he wants you to have his children. with new found motivation and his orgasm closing in on him, taehyung grabs your hips and forces them down against his cock, slamming into you every time you come down against him. your abused hole drips with newfound wetness and remainders of taehyung’s hot seed as he pushes it further inside of you. 

the pace is wild, and heat flares up between you both as your bodies move together completely uncontrolled. “m gonna cum again...” you gasp as you feel taehyung pound repeatedly into your g-spot. “please, please fill me up.” 

“gonna cum with you princess, gonna breed you with my dragon pups,” taehyung practically whimpers, mumbling an i love you into the air. “gonna fill you up and fuck my cum deep inside you.” he rambles now as his thrusts become erratic. having his length nuzzled inside of you is what pushes taehyung over the edge, beating the feeling of endless hours of pleasuring himself during breeding seasons. he had never held or touched a woman in the way that he did with you. you were his first, and that was what made his heads fill you once more with a heavy load of his seed, shooting further into your cunt as you cream against him once more, pushing your hips down while his cum smears against your clit. “

“taehyungie!” 

you collapse against the grass, panting shakily as taehyung pulls you into his arms again, turning to lay on his side as he pulls you into his chest. he doesn’t remove himself from your body, keeping himself inside you as more of the glowing blue flowers begin to bloom around you. taehyung’s hand settles on your belly as his arms wrap around your waist, rubbing it in circles while he kisses your hair. everything is perfect, just as it is meant to be. you’re in love with the man you had dared yourself to kill, but could now only find it in you to lay with him under the stars. 

“i love you taehyung,” you say for the millionth time that night, drawing patterns into the hand that rests on your stomach. “i won’t ever love anyone else. i am yours and you are mine.” 

“we are one, YN.” taehyung adds, sweetly, holding you closer as you feel yourself start to drift into a sweet slumber. “and i will love you forever.” 

forever. 

you smile at the word, placing his hand over his as you finally fall into sleep. you stay with taehyung, in forest for a night or two, loving each other under the moon.

“and you will see to it that the dragon is captured and killed, immediately?” 

jungkook hesitates, a pause in the air at the prince’s request. when namjoon and the king had asked the young advisor to follow his queen out into the woods, he had never expected to see what he did. the nights where you would disappear for hours on end, coming home with scorch marks and ruffled hair all seemed to make sense now. you were with the dragon prince, the one who’s heart you had promised to capture. except, only you could not do it, you had been soft in the heart. a trait that lay with your deceased mother. 

jungkook had seen you take round after round of the dragon’s cock, wishing that he could be in place of the beastly creature. he hated how that thing claimed you like he had been trying to for years, he despised how he fisted himself to orgasm behind the trees as he watched you cum for the dragon, moan for the dragon, love for the dragon. jungkook hated himself for betraying you due to his own jealousy, he wanted to see the dragon pay for what it had done to his queen, his love. and although, the advisor was unsure of what namjoon planned to do with the information, jungkook knew the least he could do was set you back on the right path. 

he had already owed you this debt, in where he failed to warn you about namjoon. perhaps, he would make it up to you by freeing you from the dragon’s grip. 

“jungkook...”

“yes my liege, we will send our best troops to their location and have him captured within the next week or so...” the boy explains, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles nervously. why does guilt rein free in his mind? he was doing what was best for you. 

prince namjoon nods proudly, nodding his head and standing from his seat to leave the dining room. the prince had moved into the palace due to your absence over the last three days, presumably to take over rule as your father was too sick to do so. namjoon was brought in to have you wed before your father’s passing but the courts knew you were more than capable of doing so on your own. 

they just hated to see a women in power.

“you are dismissed, jungkook.” 

the young advisor nods his head gratefully, running a hand through his wavy locks and massaging his scalp to calm his guilt ridden mind. “what the fuck, jeon?” he mumbles to himself, starting walk back his quarters. he needed to be a lone, he needed time to convince himself that what he had done was right. jungkook could pretend that everything would be fine and maybe it would be. 

he paces down the twisting and winding halls of the castle, chest squeezing as he begins to feel trapped within the walls and lies. jungkook doesn’t even hear the call of his name. 

“jeongguk!” tamarae gasps, catching up to the young advisor. the boy freezes, the princess much resembled the queen before YN, her features her sloping and graceful and you could see shift in her eye colour of the light hit them just right. everyone had been in awe of tamarae since she was born, but she was no YN. he looks down at the girl, just a year younger than jungkook himself, and parts his lips to speak. they were aquatinted well, but never spoke more than a passing hello when YN was around. 

but he never gets a chance to speak. 

the princess’ hand falls sharply against his cheek, the connection is enough to send his head to the side. it is now, for the first time, that jungkook really looks at the young princess. her snow white hair is dishevelled and slightly out of place, dark eye bags beneath her usually glowing eyes and her skin has paled significantly. “how dare you?” tamarae seethes, stepping closer to jungkook and pointing a finger in his face. he flops guiltily, his actions coming to haunt him. “how dare you, give my sister’s location to that treacherous prince?”

“i’m doing what is in the best interest of our queen.” 

tamarae opens her mouth in shock, casting a glance up and down jungkook’s frame before taking a breath to calm herself. “what would you know about her best interests?” she begins, now poking a thumb into the firm of the advisor’s chest. “she is happy there, out in the woods in her clearing. he makes her happy.” a breath, “— but you’re so foolishly and selfishly in love with her, you would do anything to make her love you back. well, jeon jungkook...now she will never.” 

“tamarae, i—“

“and you slept with me, i let you wrestle me to bed in your quarters and make a woman of me,”  the princess starts to feel tears form in her eyes, breath becoming shaky and anger rising within her chest. “just so...so you could find where she is. i didn’t tell you, for you to hurt her. i told you because you’re her best friend...” 

jungkook is left, trembling with guilt as the princess turns away and heads back in the direction she came. 

he was desperately in love with you, but was too blind to see the love he was given too.

the feeling beneath taehyung’s skin is nothing like he has ever felt before. it’s a bristling pain that jabs at his flesh, pinches at his every fibre and burning away at his heart. 

it hurts, it pains him and he doesn’t know why. 

the servants strip him of his shirt, sweat licking his honey dipped abs as they douse him with cold spurts of water but nothing helps and the pain doesn’t cease. one places a stick between his teeth for him to clamp down on as they rub at his skin, trying to massage the pain away. instead the supposed, soothing feeling is replaced by a thousand small stabs to his flesh, almost to the point where tears pool in his ocean eyes. 

the double doors to his bedroom open suddenly, Queen elantris making an entrance as maids and servants alike withdraw from the heaving prince. his stares over at his mother as she dismisses all other personnel in the room, dropping his head back into his tangled sheets while he pants, eyes falling shut. 

“mother...”

“shh, my boy, you are in a lot of pain,” elantris hums quietly, brushing her son’s curled charcoal locks from his paling face.  the prince whines like a young dragon pup, the hurt becoming too much to bare. elantris looks down at her child, seizing the moment to rub a cooling herb mix against his chest, despite the growls and roars that emit from taehyung’s lips. she coos at him gently, once she’s done, whispering sweet words into his hair as he shivers in a cold sweat. the dragon queen had seen this once before, never as severe. her child was sick with a deep poison, known as love. 

“what’s happening to me?”

the tone of fear rings in taehyung’s voice as he roars, scales reappearing across his skin and eyes darkening into their golden state. his mother leans down and noses taehyung’s cheek, trying to ease him through the pain and coaches him through it despite the groans he lets out.

“you’ve imprinted, my love,” elantris whispers, linking their hands. “you’re in love, taehyung, with that human girl.” 

the boy gasps through his pain, feeling like a pup being caught stealing from the kitchen like when he was young. taehyung had known that he had always felt strongly towards you, felt strongly for the way your eyes sparkled under the moon and the way your smile shone brightly whenever the dragon had a new trick to show you. taehyung had known, all along, that he was in love with you. “how, how did you know?”

“i could smell her on you, taehyung,” elantris chuckles and releases her child’s hand, helping him to sit. “i may be old but i am not a fool. you have learned to forgive, unlike those of our ancestors. you must go to her, the girl and the closer you are to her, the less pain you will be in.” she hums. “you just go to her.” 

the prince stretches his limbs, a cool slick sliding over his skin. “i will, i love her.” 

the clearing.

when you thought of the clearing, you thought of happiness and love. your love, with taehyung that bloomed solely under the night of the stars but another that grew strongly inside of you. the news you had for taehyung sent a series of fire works bursting in your chest, coursing through your veins— this could be it, could be what could end all the suffering and consequences, letting yourself and your prince be together. 

the familiar sent of sweet moon lily fills your nostrils, easing your nerves as you approach the clearing, your love. the sky is clear above your head, milky pink like the roses your mother used to weave into your hair. you like to believe, that she would be excited for you, looking down at you from the constellations above with joy.  this was not always your plan, but you would not let this get in your way of becoming queen. 

you take care with your steps, unlike times before this, wearing your traditional warrior fit makes the journey easier.  you want to be careful and prevent any harm to what is to come — but suddenly, the air around you feels different, thick with smoke and heavy with  an eerie vibe. something is off, something is wrong. 

peeking through the leaves you spot several men, heavily armed with swords and arrows, in a uniform you do not recognise. upon closer inspection— you notice the emblem on the crest of a soldier from your kingdom . these are your people, men from your army. 

in your clearing. 

rushing forward, you burst from the trees and slap a hand over your mouth at the site. the dragon prince, fully shifted into his beautiful dragon transformation is hooked to the ground with thick metal chains that rub at his skin. taehyung roars, in pain, in fear, you cannot tell and panic begins to rise in your chest, clawing at your throat and tearing at your insides. 

they had found him.

the beast sniffs the air once, twice, the bones in his back cracking as he fights to stand—pulling the men that held him back, off of the ground. yellowed eyes tilt towards you, barely hidden in your precious spot as the prince tries to rip free and expose you. he could sense your presence, your emotions and desperately needed to be with you, he needed you to know about the imprint. 

but before taehyung can reach you, a guard calls and has you on your knees in a second, many others spearing your lover to get him under control. tears sting in your eyes as the first drops of his blood hit the pure grass beneath your knees, where you had made love for the first time, where you were supposed to be safe. 

“taehyung!” you scream, attempting to rip yourself away from the men, your men... that hold you down. it’s almost as if you can feel every pierce of taehyung’s flesh as he roars out for you. yanking your arm free, you attempt to stand, but your pathway is blocked by a pair of black boots and a talk slender figure.  your wobbling lip turns to a sneer, gaze darkening as you look to him. “you...”

namjoon smirks, kneeling down to your height as your own men hold you down. “hello, my queen,” he hums, eyeing your sweat streaked face and angry expression. the man lifts your chin with his forefinger, tilting your head to look up at you. taehyung’s chest rumbles possessively as the latter male’s hands slip to clip your jaw tightly. “you seem to be right on time, love. you’re about to witness the true harvesting of a dragon heart.” 

a flare of outrage ignites in your chest as you lunge forward, biting at namjoon’s finger so hard that you draw blood, while vexed tears cloud your vision. the pink haired prince pulls back, holding his hand tightly in pain. “unhand me.” you breathe heavily, staring up at the men beside you, holding you down and betraying you. “unhand me by order of your princess.” you muster up a stern expression, although your lip wobbles and your eyes water as the pain of your lover courses through your veins. you had not known it was possible to feel so connected, so in tune with someone before. but you understood now, that this was love. love was not your mother and father arguing during nights, where hoseok would cover yourself and your sister’s ears, love was not tolerating and suppressing your bitter hatred for your father. love was not war. love was taehyung. 

the men look to namjoon for guidance as you thrash within their grip, he simply shakes out his wounded hand and stalking towards you, before landing a harsh slap across your face. your head whips to the side, your chest heaving in shock while your lover growls in the distance.  

“i’m afraid they cannot do that your highness,” namjoon spits, pushing you down into the soil. you clutch at your stomach protectively, glowering at the prince. “you father has handed all authority over to me, after your absence for the last two nights. the court has ruled you, unfit to rule until we marry.” 

the prince then turns to the dragon, signalling for his minions to tighten the chains around taehyung. “and he shall be executed in consequence of your action. for imprinting on our queen, like the filthy creature he is.” 

it feels like your world is collapsing, and you are falling underneath the surface. but you cannot give in, you cannot give namjoon the satisfaction of your favour without a fight. you cannot lose taehyung. you close your eyes and swallow thickly, remembering what your mother had instilled in you. every battle has a way to be won. 

“unhand me,” you repeat, steadying your breath. “and i will go with you willingly.” namjoon only chuckles deeply, shaking his head so you take action. ripping yourself from the men behind you, you kick your leg out and take the men down by swipe their feet out from underneath them. elbowing a soldier in the nose and snatching your sword from its sheath, burying it in the chests of two traitors. rolling your shoulders back, you kick down two more men and stay light on your toes. 

you aim for the prince next. 

taking a running sprint, you thrust your sword towards him, barely slicing his cheek as you pant heavily. “release the dragon, and i will spare you,” you seethe through gritted teeth, watching your wounded lover from over namjoon’s shoulder. “don’t be a foolish man, my prince.” you mock, venomously.

“i see that carrying a child has softened your mindset, princess YN,” namjoon comments softly, pushing the blade away from his throat. how could he know? who could have told him? your confident demeanour falters slightly, but you do not allow yourself to slip, holding up your blade again. “the castle maids talk, you show early signs. disgraceful, how you are willing to bare the child of the beast that killed your mother—“ the prince remains cool and collected whilst your resolve starts to crumble, he wins. taehyung wails for you in the background, weakening as you begin to shake. “you will marry me, tomorrow at sunset if you wish for child to be speared. i feel no remorse for ending two lives tonight.” 

the world around you begins to spin lightly, taehyung calling for you to stay strong. namjoon had won, he had you exactly where he wanted you, and there was nothing more you could do. “very well,” you whisper, dropping your gaze along with your mothers sword. “we shall be wed.”

you had never been to a wedding, if you had, you may have been too young to remember. sometimes, if you were lucky enough to hear, your mother would tell you of her own, her white dress and wolf furs, her pearl crown imported from across the sea. when she explained to you, brushing your hair and tying it neatly before bed, she had never smiled, never grinned at the thought of a royal feast. her face had always been void. 

you now, realise why. 

today you would marry, to a man you bared no feelings for. today you would marry out of duty and out of the love you had for someone else. you realise, being older and less naive, that your mother, the queen— married your father as a debt to her kingdom. 

“you look beautiful, YN...” your sister offered, taking over for the maid in weaving flowers into your hair. orchids. the national flower of namjoon’s kingdom. the smell was too sweet, sickly to the point where you felt you would heave. they were everywhere, in your hair and your bouquet, in gifts given by royals from other kingdoms— you hated it. a constant reminder of what you had to lose. tamarae notes your silence, stopping her hands that move to fix hair that has already been tucked into place. “please, say something...”

you blink twice in response, parting your lips as if the words will come on their own — but you’re hollow inside, a ghost of who you once were. there were no more tears to cry, or screams to let out. all of those had passed in the cold night, when your sister held you as you cried because your child would grow without the father they needed. because you were going to lose your love. tamarae sinks to her knees before you, creasing the sweet powder blue dress that she wore. her hand take yours, squeezing it gently as if to remind you that you’re still a person, you still feel. 

“you don’t have to do this,” she whispers hoarsely, white hair falling over her face to shield her from the world. her bottom lip trembles as tears slip down her cheeks— she had lost her mother, her brother and now her sister. what more could she lose? “you don’t have to...”

for the first time in hours, you make a movement...your face twitches into a sad smile as you cup your sister’s cheeks and hold her close. tamarae’s face finds the tule of your wedding dress, trying her best not to stain the expensive fabric imported from namjoon’s kingdom, not that you cared much for it. “i have to, for you and for the people. our people. they have lost faith in me, and they need me—“ you swallow sharply, no more tears. “they need me to show them i care for our people, i care for this war...”

“i don’t want to lose you...”

“you won’t.”

the door bursts open, yourself and your sister jumping apart at the sudden entrance. jungkook inhales deeply, eyes flickering between the two princesses before tamarae scoffs and parts ways with you but not before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

she shoves past the boy, maids flurrying after her, leaving yourself and the advisor alone. he is the first to speak. “YN, my queen, you’re stunning-“ 

“no,” you interject, looking up at your old friend, coldly. “don’t speak. you don’t get to speak today or i’ll have you executed for treason.” you punctuate your every word, begging yourself to keep it together because if you cry now, jungkook will be the only one to comfort you. your best friend, the man who betrayed you, silences himself, before it’s too late. “you don’t get to say a word, not after what you did to me. not after betraying my trust.” 

“YN, i-“ 

“please,” you hiccup this time, the air in your lungs being sucked away from you with every passing second. jungkook is here to walk you down the isle, towards the man that will only abuse his power of you and your people. jungkook is the reason you are walking this path. “please don’t say anymore. have you not said enough? given away my secrets, out of love you say?” jungkook falters, every fibre in his being screaming out at him to comfort you, but his love for you did this, he destroyed the strong girl he once knew. “then your love is truly misplaced- i have loved you, jeongguk...but only ever as a friend. you used that against my sister, which i truly cannot forgive. so please do not say anymore than you must, for your words only ever hurt us.” 

jungkook bites his lip and nods, offering his arm to you to lead you down to the ceremony. he watches you with sad eyes, but a kind smile, sighing heavily when you return his with a watery one. 

if he had not loved you, this would not have happened. if he had not loved you, he would still have his friend.

the sun is coloured a shade of honey, ribbons of its light casting a warm hue against your skin. sunsets like this are rare, beautiful and not to be taken for granted— they remind you of sweet days with taehyung, his curled hair buried in your neck and his soft giggle filling the air. sunsets reminded you of your love for taehyung.

you watch the sun dip it’s toes into the navy blue of the water, just behind the prince’s head at the end of the isle. namjoon had wanted a wedding by the sea, with enough room for all of your people along with visitors from kingdoms far away. he wanted sea air and a fresh breeze, he wanted open waters, clear enough to see the dye of taehyung’s blood when he executed the dragon prince after the ceremony. he wanted it all, and you wanted to escape. your stomach twists and turns, as the orchestra begin to strum a wedding tune. this isle was not a path to happiness, but one to your death. 

to the people of your kingdom, saw you as a beautiful bride but you saw yourself as a ghost of a human being. jungkook holds you by the arm, steadying your steps as he walks you towards your doom, your own funeral. your own father couldn’t even give you away, too drunk to even stand. you scowl at him as you pass his pew, accompanied by your sweet sister. 

if you had it your way, it would be taehyung at the end of the isle, dressed in his kingdom’s traditional fits as he gave you that toothy grin. his eyes would light up as your brother gave you away, and your mother’s light shined on you from above. taehyung would take your hand firmly in his, slip on the ring and tell you how much he loved you. the dress that you wore would be off at the end of the night, as you made love to one another. but now, here you were, reaching the dreaded prince namjoon, as he smirked at you greasily. 

jungkook gave you a tight, apologetic squeeze before handing you over to namjoon, shielding his face once he joined the rest of the crowd. your gaze slowly shifts to namjoon, hating the way he looked at you, when the ground beneath your feet starts to shake and you hear the pained cry of your love. “taehyung...” you whisper, standing on your tip toes to find him. over the shoulder of the prince, you spot the dragon shivering from pain behind the alter. 

he spasms in his chains, wrists red and sore whilst purple bruises litter his tanned honey skin. he whimpers our for you, causing tears to well in your eyes. all you can do is watch helplessly as the dragon steadies his laboured breathing. small tears slip down your cheeks, streaming through the layers of make up that you wore— the pink haired prince lowers his lips to your ear level. “take a good look, my princess, for this will be the last chance you will ever get.” the prince chuckles, pouting at you mockingly. 

with watery eyes, you glance back at the dragon prince, watching as he falls weak at namjoon’s proximity to his imprint. the injuries taehyung sustained over the time had weakened his dragon transformation, the scales that patched his skin were becoming dull as he bled from wounds here and there. the only way for him to heal would be to be near you again. 

sucking in a deep breath, you blink away the oncoming tears and replace them with a bright smile. smile for the people, smile for your family. “of course, my king,” you say with wobbling words. be strong, you chant. 

the ceremony begins with namjoon’s consent, rushing by with your mind focused on your lover. he’s hurting, in pain and all you want to do his hold him, ease him through it all. you cannot focus, sick to the stomach of what is to come, will you live out the same fate as your mother?  bare beautiful children from the seed of a hateful man. will he ruin your kingdom? what your mother had worked hard to build? this couldn’t be your legacy. 

“and do you, princess YN LN of the  Phantis empire, take prince namjoon of the Kevimore kingdom— to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health...as long as you both shall live?” the minister’s words fly over your head, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and the air in your lungs no longer present. 

namjoon leans down to whisper into your ear, warningly. “YN...” 

“i-“ you hesitate, saying yes would mean taehyung would be executed sooner and you couldn’t bare to lose the only love you’ve ever had. namjoon’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you into him, causing taehyung to fall to his knees behind your shoulder, ocean eyes full of tears. he can’t lose his soulmate, not now, not ever. “i’m...”

the words formulate on your lips, the pressure weighing down on your shoulders. 

“stop the wedding!” 

you clutch at your chest, relief flooding through you as the crowd turns their attention to the oncoming voice. an armoured soldier and his men, enter the ceremony eliciting gasps and stares of the congregation, you take the opportunity to slip from namjoon’s slimy grip, while they create a distraction. 

“who do you think you are?” namjoon scowls, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at the intruder. “interrupting an officiated ceremony, what authority do you have over a drunken king and his weak daughter?” 

the soldier dismounts from his horse, stepping forward to the middle of the isle and removes his helmet— revealing the similar sloped and heart shaped features of your elder brother. “hoseok,” tamarae calls, stealing the words from your very lips. you watch as your younger sister rushes into his arms, the reunion warming your numbed heart. 

the red heard clutches your sibling close, pressing a kiss to her hair in a protective fashion before glaring daggers into namjoon. if looks could kill the prince would be five miles under. the soldier’s namjoon has under his rein, bend the knee to their rightful prince, giving you time to make a dash for taehyung before he collapses to his side. 

“prince hoseok... what—what are you doing here?”

the man in question raises a brow, ordering his men to take namjoon into custody. “the war is over, with word of my sister’s union with dragon prince-“ hoseok nods his head over to you, smirking as the latter male is brought to his knees in front of the entire court. “— spread across the battle field, man and mythical creature alike have found a way to bring peace,” the eldest sibling makes his way toward the pink haired prince and drawing his sword up to the other’s chin. “and next time...you will think twice before treating my sister, thinking you have power over us all. she is stronger and a much better leader than you will ever be. so stand, take your men and leave before i have your head.” 

namjoon nods vigorously, clearing himself and the ceremony up as you sniff thankfully, turning your attention to the dragon prince. as soon as you hold him in your arms, taehyung collapses, barely breathing as you come into his field of view. his perfect lips are dry and slightly cut, a gash along his brow that will surely scar and purple, burgundy bruises just under his ribs where his wings would be. he looks bad, but your dragon has never looked better. “t-tae...my love, it’s okay..hold on for me, please?” you whisper, brushing his hair back as his eyes flutter open and closed. “please don’t go, don’t leave me now...”

the dragon prince open and closes his mouth, head rolling as you move it into your lap. biting back tears, you brush your curls through his now silver locks, faded from the pain most likely. “don’t leave us, taehyung. don’t you dare.” you add, hoseok ordering servants and men to help give you the medical help that you. you can’t bare to part from your love now, chest heaving with your cries as the dragon slips in and out of consciousness. 

“you’re with a child...” he manages to mumble, gripping your hand tightly as his lips form a slight smile. “i could never leave my soulmate, my imprint behind.” 

your heart lifts, taehyung had told you tales of imprints only once— when his mother and father met, they couldn’t stand to be away from one another... in far too much pain. the story helped you believe in love. an imprint is when a dragon finds their mate, their one true love...and taehyung had found that in you. 

“i love you, taehyung.” 

“and i, love you.” 

you let go of his hand, allowing hoseok’s men to whisk your dragon prince away before going to reunite with your siblings. pulling off your veil, you open your arms to join hoseok and tamarae’s hug, nuzzling into them. “we’ll be okay, right?” your little sister asks, nearing tears.  this would be the first time, the three of you have held each other since hoseok left for war.

“we will be,” your brother promises, kissing your hair sweetly. “we always will be.” 

a year later, you find yourself dressed in another gown. the same fabric as your mother’s from her own coronation, emerald green silk made by those in the village embroiled with crystals from the caves of taehyung’s very own kingdom. your smile shines brightly as your younger sister fixes your hair around the crown you wear, diamond encrusted, silver plated, like the one your mother was. “sister, if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to miss your presentation to the public,” tamarae scolds you, stepping back when she’s finished with her work. “as queen.” 

“queen— that does sound delightful, don’t you think?” you tease, touching at your makeup gently before snaking your lips. tamarae rolls her eyes and pushes your shoulder gently, mumbling something about seeing you out there. over the course of the year, your father had stepped down from his position in the court allowing you to take the lead on your path to queen while you and taehyung reunified the human and magic worlds. after he recovered, you married taehyung in the dead of the night, under the stars in his kingdom, with blessing from his mother and today, you had finally been coronated as queen. 

“incoming!” a voice called, bringing a babbling baby into the room. your smile widened as jimin, the Phoenix and taehyung’s most trusted advisor stepped in, bringing over your daughter of three months. “taehyung is being dressed at the moment, hoseok is doing a cover of the grounds and jungkook,” jimin lists— adjusting cahira, your baby, in your arms. her name meaning, warrior. “he’s setting up things out front on the balcony.” 

“thank you, jimin,” you nod, bouncing your sweet girl before dismissing your husband’s advisor. 

after namjoon was punished for an attempt at overthrow, you managed to salvage your friendship with jungkook, only to the distain of your husband (it took several growling matches and attempts to calm him down before he let your advisor anywhere near you). but nonetheless, you couldn’t help but turn to mush as you watched over your baby, cahira’s eyes were large and bright like yours, taking on the blue colour of taehyung’s. her black hair was curled, with a patch of white from your mother’s side. her nose was most definitely yours, however. taehyung said that from her early months, it was impossible to tell whether she would show traits of a dragon or not, you would have to wait until her first tooth to see. 

but you knew, just by looking at your young princess— she was made to be a queen, just like you and her grandmother before you. 

“i love the way you look at her, like she is all that there is to the world,” your king grins from the doorway, moving over and bending down slightly to play with his daughter’s tiny hands. it truly is a sight to see, a large and mighty beast, cooing at his tiny baby girl. “hi there, cahira...it’s your daddy!” you sweep over your husband, taking in his floppy hair and his tight fitting black blazer that’s spiralled with silver patterns to match your dress. the ash haired dragon preens happily, primal instincts kicking in while he occupies himself with his daughter on your hip, before looking up at you through the curtain of his hair.  “and i must say, i do enjoy the way you look at me as well.” 

shaking your head, you lean down to meet taehyung’s sweet lips, wiping the small smirk off of his face,” a look of adoration, for the people i love most in this world.” you say, standing straight as your lover takes you into his arms, mindful of the giggling baby between you. “i am happy like this, with you.” 

“i am happy with you, completely and utterly in love with you, and my daughter,” taehyung whispers into your hair, kissing it. “we ended the war, and finally received the happy ending that we deserved.”  you stand in the middle of the throne room, just off of the balcony, listening to the chants and calls of your people— both yours and taehyung’s, in the distance. the war had been ended, your love had united the people and your people finally brought together. 

your maids enter the room, opening the doors to the balcony as jungkook comes through to salute you. taehyung separates from you, lacing your fingers together— allowing you to catch glimpse of the wedding rings you both wore. together, for an eternity. 

“ready to face the world, my love?” taehyung asks, taking cahira from your arms and settling her on his hip. “my queen?” 

you stand on your tiptoes, adjusting the matching crown on his head. you thought that you would never rule with a man by your side, and you didn’t need one. but taehyung would never take away from you as a woman, you were his queen and you always would be. you smile brightly, squeezing his palm and nod. “with you, i always will be.” you answer, taking his hand and stepping out towards your future. 

you had once wanted to hold a dragon’s heart, little did you know, he would be holding yours instead. 

⇢ author’s note(s): hi everyone! thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this fic, i think im most proud of this project and so, in the future im thinking of doing some kind of spin off seires/drabble collection, let me know what you guys think? feedback is always appreciated :D

[metanoiamorii]

❛Maybe we are not meant to be, not yet. Maybe we’re stars, waiting to collide in another life.❜

♧ Title: Be Still My Foolish Heart [BSMFH]

♧ Status: Brainstorming & Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third

♧ Genre: Fantasy, Action, Drama, Romance

♧ Warnings: Violence, War, Death of major and minor characters, nudity, past abuse, generational trauma, generational healing, racism, transphobia, homophobia, character corruption arcs, ethics vs morals, star crossed lovers, tragic endings, codependent and complicated relationships.

♧ Featuring: Diverse LGBTQ+ characters, enemies to friends to allies to lovers slowburn, complex and complicated characters, fantasy religions, plenty of symbolism, complex world building, ethics vs morals, a whole lot of moral grey can be fit into this bad boy, character redemption and corruption arcs, some found family, learning to separate one from their family's trouble and taking control of their life, soulmate trope, setting the groundwork for future generations.

♧ Setting: An Ancient Chinese inspired, fantasy setting

♧ Synopsis:

In Oidien there has always been a defined split against the Heavens and Ghost City. No one can remember what sparked the feud between them, it's possible after all these years of the fighting and endless war... they don't even remember themselves. They know it's tradition to keep fighting, to ensure the cycle of violence continues. So that is what they do; they keep fighting.

In recent years, the King of Ghost City has drawn back from the fields off battles and distants himself from politics. He leaves the affairs in his eldest children: Lianhauzi holds the crown, Lutaizi knows his way around the court, Suming’qiu is gifted with the army, and Taixuan is there to ensure everyone takes a break, to take care of her family.

A fight against children is how the Heavens view it... To their surprise, these children are more than gifted than their father. This isn't a game to them, it's a livelihood. They know how to secure a victory within minimum casualties, and they know how to balance one another's weakness.

The Heavens cannot take another loss. No matter how many battles they have lost, they have always managed to win this war. Each time. But on this account? They're afraid to admit they've been beat. So they come to a resolution: they have to take out one of the links. Take out one and the rest should crumble.

It's...

Not as easy as one would imagine. Or so their spies in court relay. The four know to keep their distance in public, and if they meet in private no one knows. They handpick their servants carefully, and they ensure each servant knows their tasks and do not overstep. They've taken every precaution necessary.

Even when it works, when one of their spies is welcomed inside that well guarded, hidden court... no one expects the game of cat and mouse to transpire. Their spy is humored until she's willing to change her allegiance and eventually is brought into the family by marriage... In the very least, she offers the weakest link to exploit to destroy the family.

♧ Tease

Of all I have done,

Forgettable they to none;

Has it now begun?

No, not forgiveness.

That I would never ask for, love.

I wish, regret comes.

You know as I do,

Games I once played, have turned you,

A pretty face blue.

I made no mistake,

You know as I do, the stakes

Required; played.

Once, for you, my rule

To survive, I broke, for you;

That forsaken dual.

My conscious it haunts;

My sleep, in dreams it will taunts

And it brings your scorn.

Pour me a wine glass,

For my sanity to last

And my wrath? To trap.

For me, preform; dance

Distract me with your nice laugh

Until I collapse.

And leave, in silence,

See to it, quiet your lips

Of the truth won't slip.

Allow me my sleep,

Don't be cruel, do not slight, cheat

You ugly she-beast.

A single night, peace,

That is all I ask for, please...

Better, just leave.

I have discovered,

Regret? No, I now confessed

Not for you, coward.

♧ Excerpt:

Her booted feet pattered against the puddles of rain droplets as she hugged the umbrella close to her shoulder, protecting herself from the storm. In a hurry she rounded the corner, following after the image of a soaked cat that had caught her attention and ran before she could approach it properly. It had been the first time in awhile since she had taken to sprinting, to follow the cat. Around the corner Xihuli came, brought to an abrupt halt when she turned into another person, as insane as she was to be out in the midst of a storm.

Her umbrella clattered to the floor, dropped as she staggered back a pace. The bright red silk was out of place, spinning upon the rain soaked ground. She gained her footing, no longer staggering to place distance between them. Her head threw back, an angry look quick to find purchase upon her features. Having yet to reach for her umbrella, the rain begun to soak the bright red and white silks she wore, drenched and sticking to her figure. "Watch—"

Her protests are so abruptly cut off. She watches the man tilt back his own umbrella, dark as the stormy sky with red spider lilies imprinted upon the fabric; the hanging tassels brush against his form, parting to expose his face. A youthful face that should have been smiling, with those eyes— so red to match the spider lilies upon his umbrella— staring at her as if she were a lesser being. The umbrella sits back upon his shoulder, head tilted forward with his chin forward, a sign he was in fact superior to her.

"Don't you know better, Zhuque?" The tone he speaks in, it's unlike that rambunctious voice he's known for, full of laughter that becomes too obnoxious for the ears. How serious it is, no jest spoken, no room for his games. He stares her down, staring through the dangling tassels of his umbrella. And how unkind that look is, a look that's no better than a wolf staring at a lamb. "You should never be out so late."

The two men, another prince and his own dog. Wine and lilac gives him away, wearing the golden lotus crown in his hair. Face unfriendly, a natural scowl he had been born with. He stands beneath the umbrella held above his head, keeping him dry from the rain. Held by that fucking bastard, smug and vain, with the bones acting as hair pins. He's uncaring if he gets wet, of course he is. When he controls the ocean why would he care about a little storm?

Lianhauzi pulls back his hood as he now stands blocking the last exit, Lutaizi and An Huli keeping the woman pinned in. He takes a step forward, Xieyuan moves with him, holding the umbrella in place. When he steps forward they all watch Xihuli push herself back, struggling to press her back into the wall, able to stare in each direction where one was coming from. "The fear in your eyes betray you... You know why we are here."

♧ Characters:

Love Interests

Shenguai Suming’qiu; Heizhao-jun

Amab • Agender • He/Him • Asexual • Reciproromantic

The Fourth Master of the Phantom Palace; that has earned the name of Black Sinister Claws. Said to be cursed from birth, as he has come to age and stepped into the politics and warfare, he has come to be their lucky charm. A conniving young man with a sharp intellect, and a shaper wit. For his family, he has taken up the role as master of intelligence and handles all correspondence, planning, and diplomacy. As a front, he appears an apathetic man, detached and void of all emotions, only hellbent on his work; only his siblings and a selected handful are able to see another side of him.

Yi Xianzi; Courtesy Name Ke’ai

Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

The Young Mistress of the Yi Manor is a woman with high and strong morals, and lives to maintain peace for the Heavens, and secure a future for the younger generations. She bears conflicted emotions of supporting her mistress’ less than moral ambition, but often does not speak of them and turns a blind eye instead; she tries to justify these actions for the greater good, despite knowing better. Often at times, she is torn between her loyalty to her household, and her own sense of justice and morality.

━━━━━━━━━━

Phantom Paradise

Shenguai Bixie’e; Guiwang

Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Apothiromantic

The King of Ghost City. Despite years and generations of war with the Heavens, he remains undefeated and stays alive. Defying the odds, many believe he is unkillable, and quite well, untouchable. He has retired, for the most part, from the battlefield, and remains within the Phantom Palace, allowing his children to helm the war. He spends his time with his concubines, or with his council. Few see his face, fewer are able to gain an audience with him.

Shenguai Lutaizi; Heige-jun

Transmasc • Genderfluid • He/They • Omnisexual • Demi-Homoromantic

The unorthodox First Master of the Phantom Palace; that has earned the name of the Lord of the Black Song. First in line to the throne, he has conceded his right to it, and would concede his own royalty if not for his siblings. Despite being a Prince of Ghost City, he is nothing like his father. Carefree and reckless, he would prefer to spend his days drinking, goofing off, and living life to the fullest, uncaring of a familia grudge that makes little sense to him.

Shenguai Taixuan; Duandaojian-jun

Transfem • Nonbinary • She/They • Demisexual • Panromantic

The Second Master of the Phantom Palace; that has earned the name of the Princess With A Broken Blade. She takes greatly after her elder brother, and refuses to partake in a war that has not personally done her wrong. Despite her heritage, she is a woman with a strong sense of justice, morals, and honour. She protects her family from harm, and she will not turn away someone in need, no matter their origins. Opposed to being a sister and a daughter in her family, she fills the role of mother and acts as the woman of the household.

Shenguai Lianhauzi; Baoli’jífeng-jun

Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Akioromantic

The Third Master of the Phantom Palace; that has earned the name of the Violent Tempest. Pressed by his elder siblings, he has taken up as their father’s heir to the throne; the Crowned Prince. He is known for his bad temper and strict nature. At heart, he has good intentions, he lacks the best judgement to execute his intentions.

Shenguai Kuangre Ai Du De; Dubo'mogui-jun

Amab • Genderfluid • They/He/She • Pansexual • Cupioromantic

The Sixth Master of the Phantom Palace; that has earned the title of the Gambling Demon. He is a man unaffected by grudges, politics, responsibilities. He prefers to take a page from his brother, Lutaizi’s, book and spend his time enjoying life to its fullest. He is very much a hedonist, and a compulsive gambler. Everyone he meets, he is obligated to gamble with them, at least once. The catch? He’s capricious, he’s erratic, and he will always change the game and stakes with every person.

Shenguai Jiaxiu; Mei-jun

Amab • Genderfluid • He/She/They • Pansexual • Frayromantic

The Seventh Master of the Phantom Palace; that has earned the name of the Beauty Lord. Arrogant and narcissistic, he is a very conceited man. He enjoys simple flattery and having others fawn over him, being the center of attention. Out of admiration he has taken after his brother, Suming’qiu’s, footsteps and assists him with his tasks. Himself, he carries out the more… darker duties called for, and gathering information; assassinations and spying tends to be his expertise.

━━━━━━━━━━

The Four Calamities

An Huli; Chui Feihong

Transfem • Agender • She/They • Homosexual • Homoromantic

Little Fox, as she’s called, is the favored of Prince Lutaizi, and the oldest of the Great Calamities. She is a woman who knows what she desires, what she is determined to do, and she refuses to allow anything or anyone to stand in her way. She comes off to be blunt, spiteful, angry; a she-devil, some claim in kinder terms than a bitch. Ahead of her time, she refuses to hide herself behind a mask, to be perceived as a gentle woman when, in truth, she is a walking storm, and for that, many frown upon her.

He Ruxie; Hei Xieyuan

Amab • Agender • He/They • Demisexual • Gyneromantic

Lord Black Water, as he is called, is the favored of Prince Lianhauzi, and the second of the Great Calamities. Formally a scholar in his past life, he experienced a string of bad luck, costing him his family, his wife, his daughter, his livelihood, his freedom, and soon his sanity. When he perished in his mortal life, he returned as a malicious spirit, and soon came into the service of the Shenguai family and serves loyally and viciously

Da Chen; Nitu Guiguai

Transfem • Nonbinary • They/She • Asexual • Demiromantic

The Enlighted One, as they are called, are the favored of Princess Taixuan, and is the third of the Great Calamities. In their previous life, they lived the life of an honest priest, surrounded by corruption and sin. When they met their end, their resentment for their peers remained and thus they rose to power to root out the corruption and seek retribution. Of the four, they are the amicable. They often forgo emotions and act only in rationality. Their mind is never clouded, and each act they make are in good conscious. Good will is shown to those that live an honest life, no matter their origins; ruin is shown to those are decide to live a dishonest life.

Wusi Linghun; Bai Wulian

Closeted Transmasc • Agender • He/They • Akiosexual • Demi-Akioromantic

The White Devil, as he is called, is the favored of Prince Suming’qiu, and the youngest of the Great Calamities. Formally a young lord in the Heavens, he turned his back on a betrothed he held no affection for. Openly, he cast aside his previous life, to serve the Shenguai family, and became a quick aid to the Fourth Prince. He is said to be two-faced, in some encounters being ruthless and apathetic, and other times he is genuine and compassionate; a toss up upon which side someone will see when their paths cross with him.

━━━━━━━━━━

The Heavenly Host

Meng Zhang; Courtesy Name Amnizha

Transfem • She/Her • Demisexual • Demiromantic

The First Master of Dongbu, and the acting Qinglong. Kindness is the one rule she lives by: kindness to her family, kindness to her allies, kindness to a stranger, kindness to her foes. She sees no reason to rule with fear and hatred, and actively will not promote negative emotions. She is a stern and serious woman, she takes pride in her knowledge, her power, and securing the truth. Behind closed doors, she opposes Xihuli and the Emperor, knowing both have secrets they would prefer to keep buried, in public she maintains an appearance of being a close ally.

Ling Guang; Courtesy Name Xihuli

Cis-female • She/Her • Demisexual • Apothiromantic

The First Master of Nanfang, and the acting Zhuque. Openly, she is perceived as a compassionate woman, who puts the needs of her people before herself, and acts selfless; in truth, she is surprisingly violent and vulgar. She continues to fuel the war, slandering and starting rumors of false deeds to rile the public, and gain the support of her supposed allies. There is nothing she is not willing to do to gain fame, support, and what she desires.

Jian Bing; Courtesy Name Cixia

Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Demiromantic

The First Master of Xibian, and the acting Baihu. She is known for being a compassionate woman, she wears her heart upon her sleeves, and acts out of the goodness of her heart. She openly encourages peace, to cease endless war and bloodshed; to make amends. For which, she is seen as an enemy to Xihuli, but is a close friend to Amnizha. Her only downfall are her chronic illnesses that have left her sickly since birth.

Zhi Ming; Courtesy Name Lu'yongshi

Amab • Agender • He/They • Closeted Homosexual • Homoromantic

The First Master of Beifang, and the acting Xuanxu. He has a reputation that precedes him as an honorable gentleman. He is a man of his word, he acts in accordance to justice and honor, and rarely strays from it. At heart, he is a warrior, and lacks the delicacies for social greetings; he comes off as blunt, uninterested, distant, and often lacking a heart to care.

Zhi Shi; Courtesy Name Yansbi

Cis-female • She/Her • Asexual • Aromantic

The younger sister of Lu'yongshi, the Second Master of Beifang, and acting Xuanshe. She happens to be her brother’s polar opposite. She is less than honest, she lacks honour, she craves power, she will use blackmail to get what she desires. As, she is not above blackmailing and guilting her own brother to act in accordance to her own agenda. She is also a close associate to Xihuli.

Long Jianhong; Courtesy Name Canren

Cis-male • He/Him • Bisexual • Apothiromantic

The current Emperor of Zhongxin, and the acting Honglong. A prideful man that cares more of his own person than his own people. Often, he turns a blind eye to all suffering, and allows Xihuli to do as she pleases. He is a womanizer, with various concubines’ , and elicit affairs with others. He was loveless to his wife, as there are rumors he was behind her untimely death. Whether these rumors are true or not are unproven, and few challenge them out of fear.

Long Shisan; Courtesy Name Li Busengren

Amab • Genderfluid • He/She • Quoisexual • Quioromantic

The Fourteenth Prince of Zhongxin. With twelve siblings in line of succession to the throne, Li Busengren acknowledges the chances for him to be the heir are little to none; this is added by the factor of being, from birth, his father’s least favorite child. With a will to prove his father wrong, and desperate for his father’s approval, he’s ready to do anything for an ounce of recognition.

Taglist

BSMFH: @writings-of-a-narwhal, @kittensartswriting, @inkflight, @qelizhus,

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-writes, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 12 | The Law of Surprise

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 4600

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡  Oh boy did this one take a reallllllyyyy long time for me to write. I hope it’s worth it!  🤍

“Stop,” the Queen yells, but the room doesn’t pay her any mind, only Geralt stays his blade. 

“Stop!” she yells, louder than before. This time, all sound and movement in the room seize. Weapons clang against the floor, screams of rage and pain silence, no one in the room daring to move. Visenya lies on the ground, breathing so loudly she fears the entirety of the room can hear each shallow breath, yet her heart pounds too heavily for her to care. Shaky and pale hands touch the cold marble floor, using her remaining strength to pull her body into a sitting position. Jaskier places his hands - that are nearly as shaky as Visenya’s - on her back helping her slowly stand as she leans the majority of her weight against him. 

Everyone stares at Geralt and Queen Calanthe, with bated breath and wide eyes, waiting for either of them to make a move. Instead, it’s Princess Pavetta who makes the first move. She pushes her chair back, dashing down the steps, and towards the knight, the chaos is centered around.

“Duny!” her sugar-sweet voice calls out, distress evident with every crack in her words. She closes the distance between them, throwing her arms around his body. He returns her embrace, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around before gently setting her shaking form down. “I told you to stay away,” she says, glistening tears falling onto cheeks that are flushed red, as she cradles his face with her hands. 

Queen Calanthe’s eyes are glued on the two of them, watching as her daughter searches for any injuries on Duny. Calanthe’s eyes are wide and mouth agape, as her sword slowly lowers, but still rests firmly in her grasp. She moves around the two of them, heels echoing around the Main Hall. Pavetta and Duny look away from each other, Duny stepping away from Pavetta, kneeling before Queen Calanthe as he slowly sets down his makeshift weapon, only to stand moments later. 

“Your Majesty… the Witcher speaks the truth. I was cursed as a young boy. My whole life was spent living in misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from certain death. By tradition, I chose the Law of Surprise as payment. Whatever windfall he came home to find… would be mine,” he says, looking down towards the ground at the end of his statement. 

Visenya watches with sharp eyes, no longer feeling delirious from blood loss, her strength slowly returning. The Queen’s face contorts into disgust, eyes giving away all thoughts and opinions she holds for her late husband. 

“Oh, the stupid bastard. Better you had let him die!” she spits out, each word as venomous as a Dornish viper. 

‘You knew he’d come, and you pushed me to kill him,” Geralt says, inserting himself into the conversation. His face is set in a grim scowl, clearly unhappy with the Queen trying to use him as a pawn. However, she ignores him, gaze solely focusing on her daughter now. Visenya pushes away from Jaskier, slowly stepping towards Geralt. Jaskier reaches his hand out, trying to catch her before she can get too far away, but she slips from his grasp like water.

“And you… carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father!” Queen Calanthe exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Pavetta, who shies away from her mother’s anger. Visenya feels her temper flare-up, the bitter words too similar to all the times Catelyn would berate and scold her when she stood too close to Jon. But she inhales deeply, forcing the fire out of her veins. 

‘There’s already enough blood on my hands.’ 

“Tis no swindle. Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself,” Lord Eist speaks up, moving closer towards the small cluster of people. 

Pavetta moves towards Duny, grabbing his hand in her own, standing side by side with him. Her head is held high, with a challenging glint in her eyes. And for the first time that night, she finally looks like a proud lioness, instead of the scared pup she played all night long. Despite knowing nothing about the woman, Visenya feels pride burning in her as she watches the small act of defiance. 

“Don’t lecture me, Eist,” Calanthe says, pinning a harsh glare towards him. 

“It’s an honest gamble. As likely to be rewarded with a bumper crop as a newborn pup. Or… a child of surprise. He could not know. Destiny has determined the surprise be Pavetta,” Eist continues, unbothered by Calanthe’s angry demeanor. 

“When I heard that King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way… I abandoned all thought of claiming the Law of Surprise. I knew…. I knew no woman would ever accept me like this,” Duny says, he then turns his head facing Pavetta. “And so I waited. I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse broke. I never intended to meet her. Just to watch from afar,”

“Until destiny intervened...and our hearts collided,” Pavetta interrupts, a small smile on her lips as she holds his face in her hands once again, staring into his eyes. A small smile tugs on the corner of her lips as she watches him with wide glistening eyes. 

 “And at dawn, I awoke with her in my arms and me… like this,” Duny says.

“Who are we to challenge destiny? A life was saved, a debt must be paid or the whole order of the world falls apart.” Eist pleads, stepping closer to Calanthe.

“Honor destiny’s wish, or unleash its wrath upon us,” Mousesack says.

“There is no us,” Calanthe spits. “I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child. Is there not a man before you who does not cower before destiny?” Queen Calanthe shouts, eyes passing over every person in the room, a challenge burning in her eyes. Her eyes land on Visenya, focusing on her for a moment. Visenya doesn’t waver, simply raising a single brow and raising her chin, a silent show of defiance. Only a lion could believe themselves above fate and the Gods. At least Westeros and this world have that in common. The queen scowls, but then her eyes rest on Geralt. 

“You Witcher, who has known monsters of every fang and claw, are you afraid too?” she asks. Her tone is mocking, the scowl on Visenya’s face deepening. 

“No,” Geralt says, his gruff voice a stark contrast to Calanthe’s smooth one. Visenya turns to look at Geralt, unsurprised by his lack of faith. “I’ve seen mother’s lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed destiny, ignoring the stench of the fifty other children in plague carts outside. Destiny helps people believe there’s an order to this horse shit: there isn’t. But a promise made must be honored. That’s true for a commoner as it is a queen.” Geralt says. 

Pavetta touches Duny’s face, causing him to turn and face her. “I love Duny mother, I will marry him. I will finally be free,” she exclaims, unbridled happiness overflowing in each word she speaks as her eyes stay locked on Duny.

The words sting Visenya, another parallel of what Visenya could’ve had if she’d only been brave enough to chase it; brave enough to demand Jon be with her and demand Lord Stark to allow it. But the feeling fades as quickly as it came. 

‘There’s no sense in regretting what can’t be changed.’ Visenya berates herself. 

Calanthe watches the two of them, her stone façade beginning to crack and crumble away. Her harsh and austere eyes grow glossy with tears. Her sword arm grows limp, Eist slowly pulling the blade out of her hand, and she allows him to render her unarmed. Slowly she holds a hand out and Duny grabs it. She leans forward to whisper something into his ears. She pulls back, a small smile on her face.

But Visenya isn’t convinced by the serene façade. Only moments ago, Calanthe was willing to tear apart the world if it kept Pavetta from Duny. A pep talk from Geralt about honor can’t change that type of stubbornness. 

 But then she reaches into her side, pulling a dagger from its sheath, blade pointing towards Duny’s neck. Horror paints itself onto Pavetta’s face as Calanthe pulls her dagger farther back and then forward, moments away from stabbing - and killing - Duny.

“No!” Pavetta screams as if she holds the power of ten banshees. It’s sharp, cutting through the room, leaving a painful ringing in the ears of everyone in the room. Glass begins to crack, spider webs forming in the tall windows in the Main Hall. Time moves in slow motion, almost stopping entirely, all the focus on Pavetta. A strong gust of wind explodes from Pavetta, pushing everyone within its grasp as far from her and Duny as physically possible. Glass shatters, hitting the floor and stabbing into unsuspecting victims. The furniture is blown to the ground and into the far corners of the room. Visenya yelps, her body hitting the wall, reopening the bloody wounds that Mousesack sealed with his magic only minutes ago. Her back digs into a particularly sharp corner, gritting her teeth as more pain ebbs through her body. The loud crack from the impact is quickly drowned by the scream. 

Strong winds swirl around Pavetta and Duny, slowly lifting their forms off the ground and into the air. Foreign words pour from her mouth, tone monotonous, and inhuman. Her emerald eyes bore into Duny, unwavering and unblinking. The words echo around the room and into Visenya’s ears, getting louder and louder with each word. The words, despite the chaos around them, lull Visenya into a sense of tranquility, her tense limbs slacking instantly, eyes fluttering shut as the words swirl in her head. They’re familiar and maternal, giving a similar feeling that her mother’s bedtime stories gave her. Or when Lady Catelyn would read to her when she was sick in bed, too weak to even open her eyes sometimes. 

It sounds like home, but it leaves behind a sharp feeling, like a paper cut that never healed right.

It’s intoxicating, yet invasive all the same, the feeling that someone can see into the deepest parts of her mind. The hairs on the back of her neck stand stiff, leaving a tingling sensation all over her body in its wake.

The words nearly take physical form in the darkness of her mind.  

And then the blackness ignites, the worlds beginning to fade.

Suddenly she’s no longer in the Main Hall, devastated by the tumultuous magic of a distressed princess. Instead of stone walls and marble floors, there’s an open field, a roaring fire consuming it, encasing her body like armor. It dances around her limbs, licking her skin, but never leaving a burn. Left then right, there’s nothing but fire. She moves forward, stepping with bare feet on rocky terrain, and despite sharp ends piercing into her feet, she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even blink. Then, she pauses, so still, she doesn’t even breathe. The fire crackles, louder this time, thundering in her ear with the ferocity of a calvary ten thousand strong charging into battle. She inhales, sharply, watching with bated breath for...something to happen.

And then her heart stops, brain freezing like an ice statue.  

Screech.

The noise is small and breathy, not nearly as terrifying as she instinctively knows it will become. Before her eyes, Visenya watches as a large egg continues to crack, the burnt orange shell melting into the flames. A reptilian face is the first to break through the hardened shell, shimmering red eyes glimmering in the light, then one wing, followed by the other until it’s full body is free. It’s gold scales shimmer in the fire, nearly mimicking Visenya’s own eyes. She smiles, letting out a choked laugh like her throat is full of ash from the flames that dance around her. 

Screech.

It roars again, batting it’s small bat-like wings as it steps out of the shell that encased it for so long. She moves towards it, but with each step, the dragon seems to get farther away until she can hardly see it. But she can hear it, Gods can she hear the dragon roar, each one louder and more terrifying than the last. The noise rumbles the ground beneath her, shaking her to the very core, but filling her with child-like wonder. She tries to run, hoping a faster pace will close the distance, eager to feel its scales beneath her fingers. Would they be smooth or rough? Soft like skin or coarse like salt? 

The scene dissipates, leaving her in darkness once again. She stays this way, for seconds, minutes, hours: who could tell? But then she opens her eyes, and instead of a burning field, she’s back in the Main Hall, chaos still reigning in the room. Pavetta and Duny are higher this time as she continues to chant the same eerie words over and over. 

Visenya glances to her right, watching Geralt slowly stand from the floor, fighting against the strong wind storm. He moves towards the two and thrusts two fingers forward. A burst of arcane force leaves his fingertips, causing Pavetta’s head to whip around, eyes focusing on Geralt instead of Duny. She lets out a yelp, ending the spell that holds everyone in the room hostage. Duny and her plummet to the hard ground, the wind dissipating as quickly as it appeared. 

Visenya breathes out a heavy sigh, slowly standing from her position against the wall. Queen Calanthe wastes no time, rushing towards Pavetta who is slowly standing from the ground, harsh bruises blossoming all over her delicate body. Without a word, Calanthe wraps her arms around Pavetta, tightly holding her. A moment later she releases Pavetta, delicately cradling her face in her rough hands.

“I thought your grandmother’s gift had skipped you… as it did me. It seems I was wrong...about so many things,” she says with a softness Visenya hasn’t seen in the Queen all night. Pavetta smiles, and despite the messy state of her hair and clothes, Pavetta is still easily a shining gem of beauty in the room. 

Calanthe slowly lets go of Pavetta, moving to face the large crowd that gathered around them. Duny moves beside Pavetta, the both of them moving to face the crowd as well, Pavetta tightly holding Duny’s hand in one and Queen Calanthe’s with her other.

“Destiny has spoken! And I have listened. The Law of Surprise will be honored. Pavetta will marry… Lord Urcheon,” Calanthe declares, loud enough that even the ghosts of the Lords and guards that died tonight can hear her from the beyond. 

“React poorly and you won’t just face the Lioness, you will be facing the Sea Hounds of Skellige. Because Queen Calanthe has… agreed to my proposal of marriage.” Lord Eist speaks up, moving to stand on the other side of Calanthe, grasping her hand in his own. She looks over at him, a sly smirk on her face, but she doesn’t rebuke his notion.

“There will be two vows here tonight! I assume that’s agreeable?” Calanthe exclaims. Murmurs of agreement from nearly everyone fill the room, the majority of the room nodding as well. “Delightful,” the Queen relaxes her shoulders, a smile gracing her face.

o0o0o

All is quiet in the room, so silent each inhale and exhale echos in the room like a vicious scream. The lords and ladies stand in a large circle, each holding a lit candle. It’s surprisingly calm, despite the turmoil and chaos in the room only a short while ago. Duny and Pavetta are on the ground, kneeling before Queen Calanthe. Visenya is standing directly across from the Queen, with Jaskier to her right and Geralt on her left. The candle in her hand shakes ever so slightly, her arms weak and heavy, the adrenaline in her body completely gone, leaving her frail like Old Nan from Winterfell. 

The Queen’s handmaiden stands beside the Queen, back straight with a small bowl of bright blue paint in her hands that is outstretched towards Queen Calanthe. She takes a finger and presses it into the bowl, soaking it in the paint. She leans forward using the same hand to press a line on Pavetta’s head, and then does the same to Duny, a melancholic smile on her face. Her brown eyes are tired like she’s just finished fighting a thousand wars. And perhaps she has, mentally wrestling with the prospect of her daughter marrying the man she did not intend for her. 

The handmaiden then hands Queen Calanthe a velvet cloth that’s a rich blue with gold embroidery on it. Similar to the weddings the Southerners have in Westeros, she weaves the ribbon in between their hands, physically binding them together, just like their souls and hearts are now bound.

“With my blessing, I thee bind,” Calanthe says, her voice hardly above a whisper. She smiles at Pavetta again, this one wider and less sad. Pavetta and Duny slowly turn towards each other, wide grins permanently etched onto their faces. Slowly they lean towards each other, eager to seal the marriage with a kiss. 

Their lips meet for a brief second, but Duny quickly pulls away, a snarl similar to a wild animal escaping his mouth. And then again, followed by a ferocious snarl. He collapses to the floor, his body twisting and contorting in unnatural ways as the loud noises continue. Visenya glances towards Geralt, noticing his stiff posture, intent golden eyes watching the scene. Visenya’s hand ghosts over where her sword should be, the anxiety building in her when she feels nothing but air. 

Before she can scan the room for a weapon to make use of, the noise ceases. Duny lifts his head, but instead of being a beast, he has the head of a man; a very attractive man, He has a strong jaw, deep brown eyes, and matching thick hair that falls with a slight wave. He inhales sharply, shaking as he stares at his hand - his human hands. Pavetta stares at him in shock, wide eyes staring at her now human husband. Duny looks up, meeting her gaze. And like two magnets they immediately rush towards one another, though it lacks any grace due to their positions on the floor. They meet in an embrace, Pavetta’s hands caressing his face, a beaming smile on her fair face. They lean forward, capturing each other's lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the previous, gasps of laughter pouring from Pavetta’s mouth in between each kiss. 

“The twelfth bell has not yet rung!” Pavetta says once they pull away from each other.

“What has happened?” Calanthe says, sounding as dazed as Visenya feels. 

“I think your blessing of this marriage has fulfilled a destiny,” Mousesack says, stepping forward from the circle. “The curse has been lifted.” 

“Whoo,” Jaskier exclaims, one hand touching his chest and the other wrapped around the noblewoman that stands beside him. “I think this has the makings of my best ballad yet,” he says, wiping a single tear from his eye, looking towards the lady in his arms. 

Visenya simply rolls her eyes, looking at Geralt with exasperation in her eyes. 

“If you’re alive in the morning,” Geralt’s gruff voice roughly cuts through the beautiful moment and turns to face Jaskier. “Don’t grope a trout in any peculiar rivers until dawn.” Geralt turns to swiftly exit the room. 

“Wait!” Duny exclaims, turning away from Pavetta to face the Witcher. “You saved my life. I must repay you.” Duny stands from his position on the ground, hand outstretched. Geralt stops and sighs, turning to face Duny. 

“You’ve proven yourself to be the kind of man who would do the same, I want nothing.” Geralt turns to leave again but is interrupted once again by Duny. 

“No please, please Geralt of Rivia, do not think you are doing me a service. I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt.” Duny says, his lips tilting upwards, a gleam in his dark eyes. Geralt sighs once more, facing the Lord

“Fine I claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise; give that which you already have but do not know,” Geralt says, the annoyance in his voice clear as day to Visenya. 

“No!” Calanthe exclaims, fear clear in her glossy brown eyes. “What have you done Witcher?”

“Do not worry Your Majesty. The next time I’m seen in your kingdom will be to kill a real monster, not claim a crop or a new pup. Destiny can go fu--”

Before Geralt can finish his sentence, Pavetta leans forward, vomiting all over the floor. Calanthe rushes to the other side of her daughter, leaning down to Pavetta’s level to look her in the eyes.

“Pavetta,” she takes a hold of her daughter's chin, gently cupping it as she stares at her. “Are you--?” She doesn’t finish her sentence, the words unable to leave her mouth. In perfect unison, Pavetta, Duny, and Queen Calanthe look towards Geralt. Visenya follows their lead, looking towards Geralt with wide eyes. Geralt looks around, heavily sighing.

“Fuck,” he says, and then quickly turns away, exiting the room before anyone can stop him. Mousesack follows after him while Duny turns back to Pavetta, helping her to her feet. The rest of the room suddenly becomes unfrozen, the circle breaking as Lords and Ladies begin to mingle about the eventful night. But Visenya’s eyes are stuck on Calanthe. The Queen feels Visenya's burning gaze, turning to meet it.

They continue to stare at each other, and in her glossy hazel eyes, Visenya swears she can see death and destruction swirling inside them, the desolation in the years to come. At that moment Visenya feels like Daenys the Dreamer, seeing the fall of a great kingdom that should be indestructible. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone, Queen Calanthe breaking their gaze. 

She has no proof, no reason to believe Cintra would fall. Anytime Queen Calanthe’s name falls from the lips of anyone, it’s always mummers of praise at her prowess in battle, how fierce and deadly she is in the thick of combat. She has no reason to believe it, but yet, she can feel it deep in her bones.

Cintra is going to fall.

The Lions will fall as the Dragons did all those years ago.

“You should go, before he leaves you behind,” a voice breaks Visenya from her trance. Turning around, Mousesack is the one who spoke, standing behind her with a knowing glint in his eyes. Visenya cocks her head to the side. “Geralt, I mean.” 

“I suppose it’s either him or--” Visenya moves her eyes around the room, focusing on Jaskier and the giggling noblewoman. They’re incredibly close to each other, as he whispers something into her ear, causing another round of giggles to leave her mouth. “- that.” Visenya mutters, raising a brow. Mousesack simply laughs, shaking his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

“No wonder Geralt enjoys your company, you’re as dour as he is.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Visenya says, a small smile on her face as she faces Mousesack. “It was nice to meet you, Mousesack, perhaps our paths will cross again.” Visenya moves to walk past him to catch up with Geralt, but his hand grips her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Jane, I know this may not be my place to say, but I can sense immense primal power inside you, similar to what the Princess displayed,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t know what you--”

“I would be a fool to not notice the energy thrumming inside you, do not take me for a fool, Jane. Nevermind that I saw you burn a man with your bare hand,” he continues, unbothered by the way Visenya 's eyes bore into his face. 

“And what of it?” Visenya asks, straightening her posture and raising her chin slightly, like a wolf raising its hackles. 

“I also know you don’t have full control over it. Without proper training you will find yourself at the center of a situation like this, with a far worse outcome,” he says, unperturbed by Visenya's intimidation attempts. Flashes of a burning building and screaming flit through Visenya’s mind for a brief second. Her posture slackens, not by much, but enough for Mousesack to notice. 

“I suppose this is when you offer to be my teacher?” Visenya asks, sarcasm dripping from each word, a bitter laugh following shortly after. Her gold eyes narrow, lips pulled into a thin line. Mousesack chuckles, shaking his head, briefly looking away from Visenya, tracing the walls before his eyes flick back to her. 

“I’m afraid not, destiny has other plans for you, it would seem. Your place is with Geralt and whatever grand adventures you get wrapped into,” he says, mirth dancing in his eyes, visible even in the darkness of the hall. 

“Then it appears we are done here.” Visenya tries to maneuver past Mousesack, but his grip is tight, keeping Visenya in place. She turns back to him, eyes like hardened lava.

“If I might offer a piece of advice, find someone and let them help you control this power you have. But stay away from the Brotherhood, if you can. A mage outside of their grasp would be best.” Mousesack whispers, eyes staring deep into Visenya’s.

“Duly noted.” She moves to walk away again, and this time, Mousesack lets her. He releases her arm and watches as Visenya steps over the rubble and towards the exit. 

“May the gods watch over you, Visenya Targaryen,” Mousesack says. Visenya’s footsteps stop, posture as stiff as a board, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Her heart pounds, blood filling her ears until she can’t hear anything. Like she’s been turned to stone, Visenya slowly turns around, a grim expression set on her face. But when she turns around, Mousesack has disappeared into the crowd of people. Gold eyes narrow, searching for Mousesack in the crowd for only a moment longer. 

She whirls around, eager to leave this castle and the kingdom behind. She swiftly walks through the hall, nodding at stragglers guests or guards as she passes them. It isn’t until she’s near the exit that she spots Geralt's stark white hair. The clothes Jaskier dressed him in are dirty and torn, pieces of rubble stuck in Geralt's disheveled hair.  

“Geralt!” she calls out, picking up her speed to close the distance between them. He turns around, eyes locking on her.

“Jane,” he simply says, watching as the distance between them closes until she’s standing in front of him. 

“Thought you could leave without me, did you?” she asks, a sly grin on her face. Geralt raises a brow, his lips pulling in a smirk that matches her own.

“I didn’t know you were joining me at all.”

“Well it’s either you or I stay with Jaskier and his new muse,” Visenya says, sarcasm oozing from her voice when she says muse. “And I don’t think it would be healthy to retch as much as I would be if I stayed with him.”

“So I’m your last resort?” Geralt asks, eyes glinting with mirth and just a hint of happiness.

“Of course, but don’t worry, I’ve had to put up with worse,” Visenya says. She pats Geralt on his chest as she passes him, moving towards the exit. 

o0o0o0o

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you. Also I’m not 100% sure if most of y’all still want to be tagged, since it’s been so long since I posted a new chapter, so feel free to message me if you no longer want to be!

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[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma [Manservant Ending]

ー The scene starts with a flashback of a younger Yuma in the city

Lucks: Oi, Bear. If I were to die, you’ll succeed my dream, right?

Bear: Do you...plan on dying or something?

Lucks: Idiot! Who plans their own death? I’m only talking figuratively.

Bear: Your will, in other words? I don’t mind but I’m pretty sure I’ll be long dead before you though?

I’d rather not have you sacrifice yourself for me to survive. That’d be hella lame.

Lucks: Hah! Big words for a coward! Although I won’t stop you if that’s your wish. But you know, Bear.

They say that a real loyal follower considers their Boss’ wishes and tries to fulfill them, you know?

If I die, I want to think deeply of what I would want you to do.

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to Yuma’s room

Yuma: ...

( ...I knew, Boss. You actually never wanted me to inherit your dream, did you? )

( You only said that because you wanted to prevent me following you into the afterlife, didn’t you? )

( If I just lived true to who I am, I’m sure you would have been happy, even if the world didn’t change...However. )

That just isn’t enough for me anymore. ...Boss.

I feel like I’ll lose both you and her if I don’t become Adam. ...And that’s no joke.

That’s why I won’t give up just yet. Even if I’m not qualified...I’ll do anything within my power to become Adam.

By doing so, everything will be mine...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the hallway at school

Yui: Yuma-kun, can I go home now?

Yuma: Aahn? Yeah...

...Oh right, I just remembered somethin’. I gotta go to the teacher’s office today.

Yui: Eh? What did you do!?

Yuma: No mischief. ...Probably. I’ll get it over with in no time, so ya wait here, ‘kay?

Yui: Try and stay calm if possible, okay?

Yuma: I know. See ya.

ー Yuma walks away

Yui: ( Will he be okay...? )

( Yuma-kun has been acting a little off lately, so I’m worried. I hope he doesn’t become irritable like before again... )

Reiji: Excuse me.

Yui: Kyaah...!

Reiji: ...How dare you make such a sound? Utterly shameless.

Yui: R-Reiji-san! Anyone would scream if somebody silently creeps up on them from behind...!

Uhm, are you by yourself?

Reiji: I would like to ask you the same. Is he not with you today?

Yui: Eh?

Reiji: I am referring to your guard dog. Mukami...Yuma, was it?

Yui: Yuma-kun got called by one of the teachers...Did you want to talk to him perhaps?

Reiji: Well, yes...Aah, seems like he has returned.

Yuma: Oi, Sakamaki’s second eldest...The fuck ya doin’ to her?

Reiji: No need to shout at me like that. I have absolutely no interest in this undisciplined mutt. You are the one I want to talk to today.

Yuma: Me? The fuck, you’re bein’ disgustin’. If you’ve got something to tell me, then spit it out already.

Reiji: I would rather not talk to you for too long either, you see...

Yui: ( ...Would it be better if I stepped away? But leaving these two by themselves is a little... )

Yuma: ...Ya can go home first, Yui.

Yui: Will you be okay...?

Yuma: I’m not gonna do anythin’. I don’t sense ill will from this guy either.

Yui: Really...? Well, I’ll go ahead then.

ー Yui walks away

Yuma: ...So, what is so important I had to send her away? If it’s some stupid crap, I’m not even gonna bother listenin’.

Reiji: Rest assured then. I am sure you will be very much interested in what I have to say.

You came to ask us before, did you not? ...Regarding Shuu.

Yuma: Yeah...Is that dude even comin’ to school? I haven’t been able to get a hold of him.

Reiji: I can only assume he’s been wandering around in search of a quiet spot. Looking for that guy is a waste of your time.

Therefore, in place of my lazy older brother, I was thinking of giving you an answer to all of your questions instead.

Yuma: ...Unfortunately for ya, it’s somethin’ ya wouldn’t know.

Reiji: No, I am very much aware. About what you want to ask Shuu. ...As well as who you really are.

Yuma: ...!

Reiji: I shall tell you everything you want to know. Well then...Where should I start...?

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room of the Mukami manor

Yui: ( ...Yuma-kun’s late. )

( I wonder what Reiji-san wanted to talk about? )

( Seeing as Reiji-san actually went out of his way to come see him, it definitely isn’t just a trivial matter. )

*Thud*

Yui: ( Ah, seems like he’s back...! )

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall

Yui: Welcome back, Yuma-kun. That sure took a while.

Yuma: ...

Yui: Yuma-kun?

Yuma: ...!

...Why the fuck are ya here...?

Yui: What’s wrong? ...Did something happen?

Yuma: ...No, nothin’ really.

Yui: But you’re drenched in sweat. Your complexion looks pale too...

Yuma: Shut up! I said it’s nothin’!!

Yui: Sorry...

Yuma: ...Che, Imma hit the hay.

ー Yuma walks away

Yui: ( Yuma-kun...? )

ー The scene shifts to Yuma’s room

*THUD*

Yuma: ...Fuck...

Did that guy really...? (1)

...I’ll never forgive him.

ー A flashback ensues

Ruki: ...Judging by your reaction, seems like you have realized as well. Yuma. ...That we are unable of becoming Adam.

Yuma: ...

Ruki: I am fairly certain that...only those who inherited that man’s blood, the Sakamaki brothers, are valid candidates to become Adam.

Yuma: ...So ya want me to give up? On my dream? On becoming Adam? ...And her as well?

Ruki: ...In the end, we are nothing but frauds. With our second-rate bodies (2), we aren’t qualified. ...That’s just our fate.

Yuma: Hah. So what? We’ve basically been used as convenient test samples? (3)

Ruki: We simply were not strong enough to defy destiny. Don’t put it like that. You owe him your life as well, don’t you?

...Eve will one day choose her Adam. No matter who Yui chooses, it will be her blood making the final decision.

When that happens ーー Yuma, you should do the noble thing and back off. As a way of returning the favor to him.

ー The flashback ends

Yuma: ...I won’t give up.

I have to become Adam and fulfill Boss’ dream.

I’ll crush the filthy rich, and change this rotten world.

...I won’t let her choose Shuu.

I definitely won’t let that guy who stole everythin’ I held dear away from me, become Adam...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the library at school

Yui: Haah...

( I’m a little shaky on my legs...I guess that’s to be expected. Every time he sees me, Yuma-kun sucks my blood. )

( I’ve been instinctively trying to avoid him, knowing that my body won’t last at this rate. )

( ...Ever since he talked to Reiji-san that day, his behavior has taken a turn for the worse. )

( He sucks my blood at any given opportunity...And he’s back to being violent like before as well. Even though he had grown gentle as of late. )

( I guess Reiji-san must have told him something back then after all? However, he won’t tell me even if I ask... )

ー She grows dizzy

Yui: ( ...I’m feeling faint again... )

*Thud*

Shuu: What are you doing?

Yui: Shuu-san...

Shuu: If you’ve got the time to be surprised, could you please stand up...? You’re heavy.

Yui: Ah, my ba...

H-Huh? I can’t get up...

Shuu: ...Can I drop you?

Yui: P-Please wait! At least do it slowly...!

ー The scene shifts to the hallway

Yuma: Che...That damn Sow. Where is she hidin’ behind my back...?

I gotta suck her blood before it restocks...

...If her blood is what chooses Adam, I just gotta make sure she’s runnin’ dry at all times.

Right, Ruki? ...Hehe, aren’t I a genius...?

Hehe...Hehehe...

ー The scene shifts back to the library

Shuu: Haah...I shouldn’t have come here. I just know I won’t be able to sleep in peace since you’re here, what a pain.

Yui: Sorry...

Shuu: ...The other one isn’t around today, huh? Did you finally get tired of him?

Yui: That’s not it...

Shuu: Well, I don’t really care...So, when can I let go of your hand?

Yui: Ah...Sorry. I think it should be okay noーー

*Thud*

Yui: ...!

Yuma-kun!

Shuu: ...See? It got noisy.

Yuma: ...Doin’...?

Yui: Eh?

ー Yuma suddenly punches Shuu

*THUD*

Yui: Shuu-san!!

Shuu: ...Ow...

Yui: What are you doing, Yuma-kun!? Suddenly punching him like thatーー!

Yuma: Shut up!!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Stand, ya bastard!!

*THUD THUD*

Shuu: Ugh...

Yuma: You’re gonna take away what’s mine again, huh!? Aah!?

*THUD THUD*

Yui: ...Cut it out, Yuma-kun!!

*Rustle*

Yui: I’m begging you...!

Yuma: Don’t touch me!!

*THUD*

Yui: Uu, ah...!

*THUD*

Yuma: Did ya think I wouldn’t hit a chick? Hah. You’re too naive.

Yui: Yu...ma-kun...

Yuma: Just wait there, Sow.

You’ll have my full attention once I’m done disposin’ of this piece of shit...Hehe...

Yui: ( ...Yuma-kun... )

*THUD THUD THUD*

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Yuma’s room

*Creaak*

Yuma: Aah, I’m beat...

...My hands sting...

...

...I’m done.

I’m tired of...punchin’...

...Sleepy...

ー He dozes off

Yuma: Aahn...? Why the fuck is it so hot...?

ー He wakes up to find his room burning

Yuma: Aah...?

...Hah...This dream again, huh? It’s been a while...!

But ya know...Too bad! I already remembered everythin’!

I’m no longer scared of this! Show it to me all ya want!

...After all, I no longer have anyone important left in my life.

ー The scene shifts to the Mukami manor burning from the outside

???: ...Amidst the orange-colored flames, the young boy cries all by himself.

He lost the two things dear to him, so he weeps in solitude.

...This sure brings back memories.

...Fufu...Hahahaha!

ーー This time we shall bid farewell once and for all. ...Edgar. (4)

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) The sentence cuts off here, but I assume the full sentence would be ‘Did that guy really kill my family’?, implying that Reiji lied to Yuma, telling him that Shuu is the one who set the village on fire. 

(2) Ruki refers to the four of them as ‘picked up’ or ‘plucked off the streets’.

(3) 当て馬 or ‘ate-uma’ refers to a stallion which is used to test a mare’s readiness to mate.

(4) The audio is very faint here, but if you listen closely, you can hear Reiji say ‘Edgar’. In the written dialogue, it is replaced by ‘...’.