#or does he hold the reins now? will he be able to reach into the underworld and free her? have they trancended myth itsel

[pathetic-gamer]

WAIT WAIT WAIT CONSIDER THIS: TOM AND BARBARA AS ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE, ALAN AND ALICE AS A DOOMED RETELLING

[queers-gambit]

When Pride Married Prejudice

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: in the beginning, your mother delivers disturbing news, but perhaps, not all is as it seems.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, small angst, 150% filler, small background, author breaks the fourth wall once but go with it - i promise it works. author is also given free rein of her imagination and this came out...hmm... ❗️major season one, episode seven spoilers

"What?" You asked with a beg over the sounds of the crashing waves on the cliffside your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, had lead you out to stand on. She had just delivered devastating news with a sympathetic gaze, making you beg her again, "Say it's not true, Mother, please, no, no. Th-This isn't... Mum, how could this happen?"

"I am truly sorry, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra sighed, nodding at you as her hands caressed both your cheeks to sweep stray tears as they fell. Her forehead met yours, making her whisper, "But while I could not stop the entire proposal, I was able to bargain for leeway."

"What does that mean?" You pulled back to look into her lavender eyes. They were full of sadness and regret.

"You will remain at Dragonstone with your family, so I might continue to teach you - and so you do not have to interrupt your other studies. But..." She sighed deeply, blinking a few times to clear her thoughts.

"But?"

"They want you married before you turn ten-and-eight."

"No," you blanched, shaking your head in refusal to free yourself of her comforting hold, "they cannot make me marry him. Mother, please, do not let this happen."

"I could only barter for us a few years yet, my love."

"This is the payment they demand?"

"Better this, my sweet dove, then that of blinding your brother," she countered with a frown. "The Queen was unwilling to barter at first, but the King thought it a rightful proposal."

"And who, might I ask, offered my hand to Aemond Targaryen for payment over a childish squabble - that, yes, did maim the boy, but that's not... It's not like... Oh, Gods, yes, okay, when I say it out loud, I suppose I can understand the reasoning. Then why does this still feel so wrong, Mother?"

She frowned and reached for you, pulling you in closer to hold. You clung to her in fright, allowing yourself a moment of rare vulnerability as you stood alone; the only sounds around you, that, of the temperamental sea. She spoke softly in your ear, "I am truly so very sorry, my sweet girl. I am." Her hand pet the back of your head, but her grip remained strong. "But there is honor in fulfilling one's duty. I wanted very different things for you, but fate is funny at times."

You tightened your hold on her. "Tell me the truth, Mother, what's happened?"

She sighed and laid a long, solemn kiss to the top of your head. "You are of an age now that you will understand." She gave a soft pinch to your chin, "And have always been much too mature for your age."

You chuckled softly, "I often think there's much you don't know about me. I am not the perfect child you've tried to mold me into."

"Oh, I know everything, my girl," she grinned, making you feel heated from embarrassment. "You were truly restless as a child, it was hard to keep you within the castle walls. But might I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"Ser Harwin was always looking after you," she chuckled. "He would take extra shifts in the night to patrol the city just to ensure you were safe. But what he reported back always made my heart swell with genuine pride."

"Might I tell you a secret?" She nodded and let one hand hold your upper arm and the other to caress an unruly strand of hair back behind your ear. "I always wondered if one day, you would name me your heir... So, when I could not sleep, I liked to linger around the city. I liked knowing the people, thinking, if I were to ever govern them, I'd better know them best."

"See?" She nodded. "Always far too mature for your age. Yet the matter of succession with us has differed..." You braced yourself. "You are my eldest child, and my only girl," she spoke fondly. "And when my Father named me his heir, going against decades of tradition, I always promised myself that I would not do the same to my daughter unless I had no choice. I would never make her endure what I was forced to. Yet, you were still young when Jace was born, and your Father and I had a conversation. Should the matter come up publicly, you were always to be heir to Dragonstone, and that was the end of the matter. When Luke was born... Things shifted again, but only just. You were still my heir to our home, but now, Jace is to be my heir after I take the Throne, and then Luke is to succeed his father's birthright to Driftmark."

"And now? With Joffrey?"

"Much will be discussed later," she promised. "But I have declared to the King that you are to inherit our home on Dragonstone, and there is no change in that. He approved, but..."

"But what?"

"He also approved of your hand being offered," she swallowed thickly.

"You would tell me in truth what has happened?" You nodded, holding onto her waist to keep yourselves anchored. She nodded, sighing deeply before starting her tale.

And yet, Dear Reader, to fully understand, we need to go back.

Your hand was held tightly in your father's ever since he received news of his beloved sister, Laena Velaryon, passing away due to complications from childbirth. In an effort to avoid being sliced open and bleeding out to death, Laena had risen from her bloody birthing bed, and hobbled outside to beg her dragon, Vhagar, to let her meet her end through dragon fire.

Neither your Mother, nor Father, the Lord Laenor, knew you had snuck into the study and read the scroll sent to them by your Great Uncle Daemon - who gave an honest recount of events.

Now, he and his two twin daughters, your cousins, Rhaena and Baela, were flying from across the Narrow Sea to lay the charred bones of Laena to rest on her ancestral home. And because Laena was a Velaryon before she took the name Targaryen, she was to be launched into the sea by means of an intricately carved coffin.

She'd rest with other Velaryon's at the bottom of the raging waters.

Laenor stood stoically as his Uncle Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, proceeding over the funeral service as your entire family - both Velaryon and Targaryen - had gathered to pay their respects. Laena's coffin, which was carved to encapsulate her ethereal beauty, was set to a launching-cliff, and ropes were thread around to push and plunge her into the crashing waves beneath.

However, as Vaemond spoke clearly above them all, he was offering dirty, hardened looks to your Mother as she held your younger brothers around the shoulders. For a moment, you thought it looked as if they were shielding their mother, and you, who had inherited the Velaryon-Targaryen trademark features, stood between them and your father; creating a visual divide, unknowingly.

But you didn't think that way.

Your only concern right now was being there for your sweet, honorable Father, as he grieved silently with tears sliding down his cheeks. His hand was tight, and you knew he drew strength from your presence.

Daemon stood across the way, somewhat beside Vaemond, and could observe those around him as he stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Vaemond's words were veiled with threat, head turning to stare directly at your mother, "Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true." King Viserys even recognized the tone; sparing a look to his daughter, who pulled her sons closer. "And ours must never run thin."

And then, oddly, Daemon started to chuckle.

Oh, one could chalk it up to hysteria of a grieving husband, but you knew better. You were a sponge in the courts and listened to everything said; forming your own opinions and often needing to sort through what you'd heard to form something of a mixed-truth.

You knew of the rumors surrounding your Great Uncle and his niece, your Mother, Rhaenyra... And this moment, where he literally giggled to himself, was in an effort to get the attention off of your Mother - and shift those beady eyes who offered her judgement onto himself.

You knew half-truths, mostly content to observe and just listen. It served you well enough - now, a perfect moment to see through Daemon's hysteria. He was offered nothing but silent, dirty glares - most of which came from your grandparents, the Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; who stood, comforting Daemon's children while still grieving their own lost daughter.

Two young girls who had lost their mother and were watching her about to be laid to rest... And their Father laughs?

While Velaryon blood ran thick with salt, Targaryen blood was hot with fire - and the devastating need to protect one another. In those moments, Daemon felt the burning, pressing need to protect Rhaenyra over comforting his own daughters - something you'd come to grow used to.

The ropes were tightened, and your Father's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug; something you returned with tight arms. He needed you, and you were there for him.

Salt was thrown over the coffin as it was edged over the cliff and Vaemond gave the final words of service. Just before Laena was plunged over the edge, he spoke, "From the sea we came. To the sea, we shall return."

The day had passed sluggishly and after a meal, you found yourself still with your father - but watching him sadly wade in the waters lapping at the rocky shoreline of the island. Dragons flew above you all, and once or twice, you saw your great emerald beast circling the island; playfully soaring around other (smaller) dragons.

"Daddy?" You called from the shoreline, feeling your nerves spike the longer you stood there. The sun was moving into position to sink and knew the hours grew later. "Daddy? Maybe we should go in now? 'S getting a bit cold - the waters are freezing! Daddy! Come in, please!"

He did not respond, he just stood there; waist-deep in the tide with you watching on the shoreline. Your fingers twisted together in nervousness, feet shifting in the weighty sand.

"Father! Please, come inside with me?" You tried again, but to no avail. He had waded out there after the funeral's dinner, and while everyone gathered on the stone courtyard for drinks and mingling, your father had fancied a walk. For an hour now, he's been standing in the water.

Your head looked up towards where you knew the courtyard was, and caught sight of your grandsire glaring down at your father. He frowned when he caught your eye, then nodded, waving for you to come up. You nodded in return, looking to your father once more.

"Daddy, I have to go in, it's getting late," you tried. "I do not wish to leave you, come with me, please."

"Go on, my sweet darling," Laenor finally croaked - but did not turn.

You sighed with defeat and turned for the archway, hustling up the stone stairs, and just as you reached the top, Ser Qarl was rushing towards you. "Princess," he muttered with a nod, making you smile.

"He will not come in, even for me," you spoke softly, "good luck. Might have to force him out."

"Of course, thank you, Princess," He nodded and darted past you, letting you enter the courtyard finally. There were respectful nods from those who attended the funeral; most offering words of condolences before you caught the eye of the King.

Approaching the two men, you bowed with respect and laid a hand to your Uncle Daemon's arm. "I mean no intrusion, Your Grace, my Prince," you nodded to them both, "and apologize for the interruption I pose, I only mean to extend my condolences to you, Uncle. How sorry I am for your Lady wife, and for this loss you feel."

He nodded, letting his free hand pat over your own. "Thank you, my gentle niece."

"My Prince," you nodded, "Your Grace."

As you took your leave, you heard Viserys offering Daemon to return to King's Landing - to court, or other. You did not hear the rest, finding your mother in the crowd and making a beeline for her through a slew of distant family and members of court offering their words of sorrow.

"Sweet girl," she sighed when she embraced you. "Are you all right? Where is your Father?"

"I could not get him to come in with me," you admitted with shame. "He prefers to stand in the waters, I think it makes him feel close to Laena... Like they're both together again, if only in the tide."

She sighed, petting over your head, "You shoulder too much of your Father's grief, my sweet girl."

"It is never more than I can handle, Mother," you assured. "My skin has grown thick and there is little else to be whispered that can faze me now. My Father needs me, and I am happy to fulfill that duty."

Truth was, once upon a time when you lived in King's Landing, your older cousin, Aegon, started to publicly tease you for being a "Daddy's Girl," and let that come churn-up negative connotations. Rumors grew and festered because of your complexion, where your skin was shades lighter than Laenor's and had bright white hair - while your brothers were pasty-skinned with dark hair.

Aegon liked to tease you for your close relationship and others joined in, thinking it got under your skin. Thinking it was something to laugh about when your Father started to train you beyond what others thought "acceptable". He was your biggest supporter, and helped you push yourself to new limits with horse riding, sword fighting, archery, even just a bit of spear throwing. Laenor and Coryls even once took you on an adventure at sea, where you learned the 'ropes' of sailing and how to fish "properly". You never let the snide comments and vile words taint your view of your "Daddy" because you knew the truth.

Plus, you could just say to Aegon, "You wouldn't know a Father's love even if it slapped you in the face." That shut him up every time.

Rhaenyra smiled at you and gently caressed your cheek, but movement behind your shoulder caught her attention. When you turned to stand at her side with her arm around your waist, you noticed your Uncle Daemon surging past everyone - but stopped when Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who had a public distaste for the Rogue Prince, stopped him to mutter something. You imagine it was condolences, but you were too far to hear it.

When Daemon managed some comment and then escaped down stone stairs, you mother looked around cautiously. "Mother," you warned through the corner of your mouth. "I would not, now is not the time."

"Hush now, my girl, come with me," she sighed, taking your hand, and leading you towards your brothers. When you reached them, she stooped to speak to them, "Your sister is in charge, do as she says, but I want you all to go to bed."

"But, Mother - "

She cut Jace off, "Go to bed."

With a meaningful look to you, you understood and gave her a reassuring nod with a squeeze to her hand; often thinking your minds were connected by some string - making nonverbal communication essential between you. You often found that was what you searched for in a person, first. How their body spoke, despite the words their mouths form.

"Come on, let's say goodnight," you coaxed your brothers, turning to your grandmother and cousins first. You knelt before them, offering, "My sweet cousins, I cannot say how sorry I truly am for this loss. But should you need it, I am here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin," Rhaena whispered, leaning forward to hug you.

"I'm only a few doors down," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You bid Baela a goodnight as well, letting your brothers step up as you helped your grandmother to her feet. She smiled at you and pet over a lock of hair. "We're going to bed, Grandmother, I will see you in the morning, yes?"

She nodded, sparing a glance to the kids before taking you a few steps from them. She sighed, "How's Laenor?"

You frowned, "He would not come in from the sea, Grandmother. Not even for me..."

"He always had a soft spot for you," she sighed, "surely, if you can't get him in, he'll have to be moved."

You nodded, "I did try."

"You did incredible," she praised, taking both cheeks in hand. "I have heard nothing but songs of how you have been the support your father needs. Thank you for being there."

"It is the least I can do after all he's done for me," you whispered. "I only wish I could take his pain. It is a weight that I fear he is buckling under slowly."

Rhaenys sighed and nodded. "I fear for it, too, my sweet. All right, well," she sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "You get some sleep, some well-deserved rest. You've had a day."

"We all have," you whispered, taking her hands in yours, "and Grandmother? I-I want to tell you that I am sorry for you loss. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

She sighed and nodded, squeezing your hands. "You have always been the sweetest girl - and I am so proud to be your Grandmother. I love you, thank you for your words."

Your eyes shut and let her lean in to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too," you promised, smiling at her when your eyes opened to her softened gaze. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she nodded, letting go of you so you could take your little brothers under your arms.

"Grandfather," you spoke to Corlys as you approached. "I hate to interrupt, but we are off to bed and wish to say goodnight."

He gave you all a smile and gentle hugs, speaking softly, "Goodnight, my dears. I'll see you in the morning." Finding no other family members that you cared enough to speak to, you lead your brothers into the Driftmark castle.

You nodded to those you passed, easily navigating the boys to their rooms and did not leave until they were changed and in bed properly.

"Sister?" Luke whimpered.

"Yes, my sweet?" You paused to turn back to him, single candle in your hand and one on his bedside table.

"I-Is Ser Harwin truly gone?"

You sighed, pausing to sit on his bed and pet some hair off his forehead. "I'm afraid so, sweet boy. But Mother speaks true, the Strongs are not our kin and we are needed here. But that does not mean you cannot mourn him, Luke. He was a gallant knight and truly felt part of our family - though he was not our blood."

He nodded, "Could we say prayers for him?"

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll say one for him tonight, too, all right?"

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you lean in to peck his forehead.

"I love you," you promised, letting a finger push the button of his nose.

"I love you, too," he nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet boy," You whispered, blowing out his bedside candle and parting ways with your own single candle in a holder. You shut their door and moved for your own room, but just before you could prepare yourself for bed, you heard a strangled roar from your opened windows.

It could've been any dragon, but something felt familiar about this sound.

Something felt wrong and you were quick to change into a pair of trousers, a tunic, and boots; rushing off from your room with the intention of checking on your dear, sweet Kasta. She wasn't by any means the largest around but she showed no sign to stop growing - making her rival a few older dragons already. You worried she was being challenged, and easily snuck from the castle walls.

However, you gasped when you rounded a cliffside and almost ran straight into someone.

"You!"

"Aemond! Gods!" You hissed, glancing around and pushing him towards a small alcove of the cliffs in case of any patrolling guards. "What're you doing out at this hour? You should be in bed!"

"What're you doing out? You should be in bed, too," He retorted quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, "I have reason - "

"Maybe I do, too."

You hummed, eyeing him a moment. "What if we agreed to go about our business - never seeing each other, hey?"

He considered it before nodding. "Deal. I didn't see you, you didn't see me."

"Exactly," you chuckled to your 'uncle', though you were 18 months older than him. It was strange, indeed. "Whatever you're doing, just be careful, Aemond."

He nodded, "Yeah. You, too, Y/N."

You both snuck away in opposite directions - where you made for the mouth of the Dragon Pit, and Aemond, in the direction of open sand dunes. You were curious and considered following him, but you were distracted by wanting to check on Kasta more.

After sneaking beneath the Pit, you could not locate your great beast and didn't know if you felt relief or not. So, you spent the better part of an hour searching for the emerald green beast, sighing with relief when she was located at last. Only after you had to scale a fucking cliff, but she was worth it.

"Kasta," you panted in High Valyrian upon approach, the lazy dragon lifting her head from the sandy nest she'd made. "What're you doing, my girl? Hey?" You chuckled lightly, hearing her whine lowly. You sat at her head, giving it a loving stroke. "It is warm in there?" She lipped at your hands, making you wonder, "You okay? I heard something and worried it was you - that you might've been in trouble?"

She growled lightly, lifting her head in interest when the distinct beating of wings was heard - along with a voice shouting in exhilaration. You lifted your head to spy Vhagar circling the island, curiosity peaking; but also assuring you that it was not your dragon that you heard before.

"I thought Vhagar had no rider?" You questioned Kasta, but the dragon lifted her head to stare into your eyes - giving a knowing look. "I see," you whispered.

There was a shuddering quake to the ground, and you knew somewhere nearby, a dragon landed. When your own dragon gave a soft snarl, you felt something on the back of your neck stand on end. She left her head fall back down as you stood.

Unknown to you, your siblings and cousins had searched for you in your rooms before deciding to confront Vhagar's newest rider by themselves. Yet, unknown to them, you were expertly scaling down the cliffside to rush for the Dragon Pit.

Yet, you were still too late.

Aemond had Luke by the throat - all the kids bloodied and bruised to some capacity - and with a large, jagged rock in a raised hand above his head, Aemond was threatening, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards!"

"Aemond! NO!" You raged, rushing to the scene out of pure panic from seeing your younger siblings, cousins, and uncle all bearing marks of a fight.

"My father's still alive!" Luke struggled in Aemond's grip, sobbing.

"So, he doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond snipped at Jace with a sneer, and to your shock, Jace then brandished a dagger.

"NO!" You finally made it to them; first yanking the two girls further back for safety, but it left time for your brothers to attack. "JACE!" You screamed with Baela, trying to keep them back as the boys were so intertwined in a fight, you could not intercede them. And with a dagger in play, you did not risk being an accidental casualty.

Aemond had thrown back Luke and wacked Jace in the head with the rock - knocking both to the floor in whimpering pain.

"All right, that's enough, hey, hey, no more - no fucking more," you stepped in, hands held in peace. "No, you've all made your points - Aemond, please," you begged when your uncle rose the rock above his hand again, smirking in taunt, with the intention of bashing Jace's head in. "Aemond - think for a moment, do not do this," you tried to reach for him, but it was too late. Jace threw a handful of sand to Aemond's face, blinding him a moment, and leaving time for Luke to pick up the forgotten dagger. "NO, LUKE, DON'T!"

But it was far too late.

Luke swung his brother's dagger upward and sliced through Aemond's face - both boys screaming. One in exhilaration and the other in unfiltered pain.

"NO!" You screamed again, reaching Luke first and making him drop the dagger by wrangling his wrist in your hand; your adrenaline pumping so harshly that you didn't realize when the blade sliced through the skin of your palm. You turned quickly, only vaguely hearing the Knight's Guards arriving. "Aemond, Aemond," you begged, taking hold of the moaning and groaning Prince. "Oh, let me see, let me see, c'mon, lad, 's all right, let me have a look," you hushed, huddling over him for privacy and coaxing his hand away. "Gods be good," you hissed, snapping his hand back in place and using your own to add pressure. Both of your hands bloodied within seconds. "Hold pressure, hold the pressure," you told him softly, looking up to see the White Cloaks. "L-Lord Commander, the Prince Aemond needs a Maester at once."

"Let me see," he knelt.

"No, no, it needs pressure for the bleeding," you told him, keeping firm hold on your distant uncle. "Come, help me get him to his feet."

"What happened?" He demanded, doing as you bid.

"I do not know, I arrived too late," You covered, helping Aemond but turning to walk at his back to keep hold over his hand, over the sliced eye he was basically holding in socket.

It was pure chaos from then on, and once you were all gathered in the throne room, the Maester took over.

"Y/N!? Aemond!? Oh, my Gods! What has happened!?" Alicent demanded as she rushed into the room; Viserys limping with his cane in hand not far behind her.

"In a moment, Your Grace," you pleaded, the boy sitting with your hands still holding in injury.

"I need to see the wound, Princess," the Maester frowned.

"All right," you agreed with him, and then looked to your uncle. "Easy, easy, easy, it's gonna gush a little," you whispered, your bloodied hand peeling Aemond's with your own to give sight to the full injury.

You could've thrown up from the sight, but only stepped away as more members of court arrived on scene and the Maester was swooping in.

Turning to Alicent, you explained, "In truth, Your Grace, I do not know much - other than the boy has been maimed. I read it's important to hold pressure to injury before a professional can take over, so, I only helped the Prince do that," you showed your bloodied hands.

"Dear girl," Viserys took your one hand, "you're bleeding on your own, I can see the cut."

"Oh, i-it's just a small cut, Your Grace," you nodded swiftly.

"How did you come by it?" Viserys demanded. His voice then lowered as he bowed his head to tell you privately, "You alone have always told your Grandfather the truth, do not let that change now."

You gulped but held your head up to tell him quietly, his withered hand still holding your wrist, "When I disarmed Lucerys, Your Grace."

"Why were you not in bed?" Alicent asked.

"In truth, I heard a dragon roar, and it sounded so familiar, I worried it was my dragon, Kasta. She's larger than some and still grows, I worried she was being challenged and then feared she was hurt. I was only out of bed, Your Grace, to check on Kasta, I swear it."

Viserys' eyes flashed to gaze heatedly over the others gathered from after the fight - but otherwise, just sighed. He nodded at you, "You're not at fault for worrying. Go on. Clean your hands, dear girl, let someone bind them."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, nodding with a small smile, "Grandfather."

He smiled briefly in return and patted your shoulder as you turned with dismissal, a handmaiden stepping up to help you wash your hands of blood in a basin and then examine the 'wound'. "It is shallow, Princess," she informed with a nod of her head. "It will heal, but I will bind it to help protect it. Perhaps avoid a sword in this time."

You smiled mutely and nodded, letting her work as the room was stewing in anger and tension as more and more members of the court showed up.

You waited patiently for your mother, letting your anxiety fester to new heights as you began to understand, as the eldest present to the scuffle, you'd be expected to recount events. But you didn't know all of the situation, only what the children had tried to tell you in a jumbled rush on your way there. But they didn't get far as the guards couldn't stand their squabbling, telling them to silence themselves until the King asked for explanation.

As the Maester worked, Viserys was demanding answers of the Lord Commander Westerling, and his Guards; who were not watching the Princes, and therefore, assumed fault for letting everything get to this point. By extension, as second in command with the Queen's Guard, Ser Criston Cole stood under interrogation, as well.

And the King was beyond angry; making you gently flinch when his voice turned hateful towards his guards.

Your hands were wrapped, and you moved along the edge of the crowd to then take a seat on the stone stairs that lead to the throne room to take a moment and think about what you witnessed. You needed time to absorb it all, to just think; to digest.

From beside the light of the hearth, Alicent, watching the Maester work on stitching Aemond's wound closed, asked, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?"

He paused a moment, the room turning towards the Maester and Prince for the answer; and your head lifted to listen. Your brothers stood beside one another without any cleaning to their wounds - simply because they were still on trial for this entire ordeal.

The Maester answered, "The flesh will heal, I'd wager because the Princess Y/N acted quickly to hold pressure." Eyes turned to you as you felt tears of embarrassment and anxiety fill your eyes, bowing your head to avoid their gazes. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Both of Aemond's parents looked genuinely distraught as you finally stood to near your brothers; taking each of them under your arms. They noted the bandages on your hand, but did not get to comment as the Queen was rounding on her eldest son, Aegon, to demand, "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon asked, gasping when his mother's hand clapped against his cheek to whip his head to the side. "Ow!" He yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!" Alicent hissed, teeth bared; her anger tangible.

The doors above you clanged open, and Corlys charged through them, demanding, "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Baela? Rhaena!" Rhaenys gasped, following her husband down the stairs. "What happened? What happened?" She asked, taking the girls instantly into her arms.

Corlys looked around with a fierce gaze, standing before you lot as you tightened your hold on the boys. Not a moment later, your mother was finally opening the doors - looking spooked by the news she received. "Jace?" She looked around - and when she located you three, she was shouting, "Luke!"

You stepped back to let your mother kneel before the boys; and felt a hand smooth around your shoulders. Looking up, Corlys brought you into his side for a tight hug. Your bandaged hand laid on his stomach, making him take it up and examine it with a tight jaw.

"Show me, show me," your mother rushed to your little brother, pulling Luke's hands from his face and revealing his own injury. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Baela shouted, and then, the over-lapping voices were too great and many to make out. Yet, bits and parts met your ears as Uncle Daemon arrived on scene, and chose to lean on the door with crossed arms instead of rush for his injured daughters. You did not speak, Corlys and you stood silently and listened.

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," Viserys demanded, but the children still shrilly argued.

"He was going to kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys tried again.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent joined the efforts.

"He called us - "

But Viserys roared over everyone, cutting Jace off, "SILENCE!"

The room echoed with the aftermath of ringing voices; everyone shying into themselves, and making your father's father tighten his hold around your shoulders. Behind you, your brother whispered to your mother, "He called us bastards."

Rhaenyra stood in thought and kept the bloody boys behind her, sharing a small look with you as her eyes skated over your bandage. But nothing could be said as her hands came to wring together as Viserys called, "Aemond..." His cane struck the stone with each step he took, "I will have the truth of what happened... Now."

"What else is there to hear?" Alicent interjected. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Rhaenyra swiftly defended - but even she sounded shaken.

"Accident," Alicent repeated, Corlys pulling you back a step to let your mother be seen. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

You wanted to correct her that it was Jace's dagger and Luke only picked it up when her son meant to bash in Jace's head - but now wasn't the time, because your mother was snarling in defense, "It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." You nodded in agreement, and Viserys saw the motion. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" Viserys questioned.

It was silent before Rhaenyra responded, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" The King asked.

"He called us bastards," Jace spoke up, making the room go still. This was the confrontation everyone was waiting on...

"Y/N?" Viserys asked, making you tense up.

"What?" Rhaenyra turned to you. "You were involved?"

"I only arrived at the end," you shook your head. "I do not know what was said or done in full," you begged to the King to understand through your words, and it seemed, your other Grandfather did by how he shifted slightly in front of you. "Though, yes, the word 'bastard' was hurled as insult, Your Grace..."

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," your mother swept back in, making you shudder a breath. "This is the highest of treasons..." Her words settled over everyone. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond had turned in his seat to glare at your mother, his older sister; making the King look down at him. But it was the Queen who asked the Princess, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye - possibly his life, should your daughter not of been there!"

Viserys looked again to Aemond, asking, "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent tried to save. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond..." Viserys prodded. "I asked you a question."

To save her son from answering, Alicent asked, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys agreed, eyes looking to your mother.

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... Could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk," You mother answered.

"Entertaining his younger squires, I would venture," the Queen snipped, making some in the court smirk and snicker as the insult registered.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," you pushed away from Corlys to face Alicent and the King, but your gaze was set on the redheaded woman, "because I understand you are distraught from your son's injury, but do not mistake that for giving you leave to openly insult my father, or add fuel to such allegations. This is not the training yard, Your Grace, leaving no room for bluster. Mind your manners."

"Come here, girl, and hush yourself," Corlys sighed, pulling you back to his side. He sighed as Viserys chose to ignore your comment, which made the Queen stiffen her spine and avoid your heated gaze.

"Aemond... Look at me," Viserys directed to his son, making the One-Eyed Prince meet his father's angered, hardened eyes. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

You didn't see the Prince's eyes cut over to his mother, but saw the King straighten his spine to look at his wife - and knew.

It was as if a collective breath was held as the King was then told by his son, "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon repeated quietly, looking truly shell-shocked to be thrown into the mix. You sighed gently.

The King now turned his sights on his eldest son, growling, "And you, boy?" He stalked up to the taller kid. "Where did you hear such calumnies?" But when his son did not answer, nor meet his gaze, the King shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

With a tremble to his tone, Aegon spoke, "We know, Father." He met his father's gaze, "Everyone knows... Just look at them," his lip curled, "and then look at her. She is true-born, that cannot be disputed."

Your chin lifted as your glare turned deadly, daring anyone to say more as the King was silently surveying the room. But he chose not to pursue this further, and snapped, "This interminable infighting must cease!" His cane punctuated his words. "All of you! We are family!" He only glanced at Aemond, perhaps finding the injury too gnarly to look at longer; turning his gaze to the room again. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

But nobody spoke as the King's words did not feel truly fair. Perhaps, the others were going to wait for him to leave to 'handle' this situation, but before he could, Alicent was speaking, "That is insufficient." The King turned to hear her words. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken!" Alicent refused her husband's words.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys growled.

"There is a debt to be paid," she decided, and the room went still. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Heads turned to look at your mother and brothers, and you broke away to then stand at your mother's side and kept Lucerys behind you. The crowd muttered with discomfort as the King approached the Queen, "My dear wife..."

"He is your son, Viserys," She begged through her tears. "Your blood."

"Do not," Viserys warned, "allow your temper to guide your judgement."

That was supposed to be that, but chaos still rained. She spoke defiantly, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" Luke gasped, and she kept him back and between you.

"Alicent," Viserys tried.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son," Alicent sneered.

"You will do not such thing," Rhaenyra defended and your hands tightened on your brother.

"Stay your hand," Viserys demanded.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent refused with a shout, making it known she was desperate for action. And eyes turned for Cole, knowing he was nothing better than her leashed dog.

"As your Protector, my Queen," Cole refused - a smart decision.

"Alicent, this matter... Is finished," The King leered fiercely. "Do you understand?" It was quiet as the woman did not respond, everyone watching as Viserys turned from the room; but paused to address, "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons," he then directed at Alicent, sneering, "should have it removed."

"Thank you, Father," Your mother spoke softly from her place, something making the hair on your neck stand on end. You did not turn as your mother did, lowering herself to speak to her sons - you watched the Queen.

And thankfully, you did.

You watched her stride for Viserys and yank a dagger from his belt and turn. "Mother!" You gasped, stepping in front of her protectively as the Queen charged.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed.

"Stay with the King!" Westerling demanded of Cole as he followed Alicent. "HOLD YOUR APPROACH!"

"My girl!" Rhaenyra pushed you out of the way in time to step forward and take hold of either of Alicent's wrists. It was chaos as they engaged; everyone trying to space out and move from the way as the King's Guards were tangled amongst each other.

Luke screamed shrilly in fear as your mother took on Alicent. You wanted to turn for the boys and huddle them close, but Corlys was back at your side, and together, you both stood as pillars in front of them while Princess and Queen struggled against one another.

"Stay your hand, Cole!" Westerling demanded of the disobedient knight; making Daemon push off his post to intercept the man.

"You've gone too far!" Your mother struggled with Alicent.

"I?" The Queen repeated breathlessly. "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please!"

"Alicent! Let her go!" Viserys demanded.

"Mother!" You worried, wondering if you should step in. Would you be reprimanded for cutting down the Queen? You eyed the sword at your Grandsire's hip - leaving it open for you to take.

Yet, you dare not.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" Alicent spoke tearfully still. "It's trampled under your pretty foot, again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent!" Otto, the Queen's father, called from the end of the hall.

"And now you take my son's eye," she told your mother, "and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Your mother countered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She whispered, "But now they see you as you are."

Alicent shouted in anger; the women pushing away from each other and blade sliced through flesh. Corlys and you both caught your mother when she was flung back, but the sounds of trickling blood pattering onto the floor drew your attention.

"Mum," you worried when her wrist was sliced open to let blood drip freely down her hand, through her fingers; pooling to the stone floor beneath you. "Gods," you whispered, looking up in shock, muttering for those who did not see, "you cut her."

"Darling," your mother hushed, but you were grabbing at her wrist to try to hold pressure - like you were trained to do.

It was silent besides that as everyone waited for the next move to be made. Nobody did until Prince Aemond stepped into the circle; earning the attention of those lingering.

"Do not mourn me, Mother," the Prince spoke softly, looking at Alicent. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... But I gained a dragon."

Vhagar had a new rider.

"This proceeding is at an end," Viserys decided, giving everyone a stern look. Cole wrangled free and Daemon stalked forward to crowd you closer to your mother; Luke coming up to hold your waist as you were holding the wound as tight as possible.

Aemond moved to hug his mother in comfort, something you were doing in your own way. Jace took the rear, and stood with Daemon and Corlys, giving Alicent a first look at the family that would bring ruin to her own. But your mother, too, got a good look at the family who would bring your own doom.

"Could we please see to this?" You asked, nodding at the blood that seeped, again, from between your fingers.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. "Perhaps in our rooms."

"Let's go," you pleaded, offering the Hightower Queen one more glare before turning with your mother to keep the pressure on her wound.

"I sought an audience early this morning," your mother explained softly, "before the King and Queen were to depart for King's Landing. And I know it is feeling unfair, my girl, and I do not want to see you go, but the tension can not fester beyond this. Vengeance is a powerful weapon, and I would not see my family harmed for something as petty as this. My hope is that with Viserys around, they will warm up to you, and you will be safe."

"So, after you sent Jace, Luke, and I away this morning, you and Father discussed, what? Selling me off?"

"I know it hurts," she relented, but you sighed.

"No, no, I am only being jealous."

"Of what, sweet girl?"

"Perhaps of not having a cock of my own, so that I might have some say in these matters. Or maybe I am merely jealous of the idea of leaving you while the boys stay. Yet, at least, I will have some time with you yet before I am to marry - not many Ladies can say they have that luxury."

She took a sobering breath, "I knew you'd understand. But for all it can be worth, I am sorry."

You nodded, sighing, "For our family's honor, and for Luke's full vision, I will marry Prince Aemond when the time comes..."

"My girl," she breathed with relief, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment, she pulled back to sniffle; and just over your heads, three of the royal dragons took flight - with Vhagar swooping low to the waters before following the King's ship.

You both paused to stare after them.

"Do you trust them, Mother?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "I trust my father, but the Hightower claws are dug deep." You both breathed for a moment. "You will be a single spot of Targaryen Black in a sea of Hightower Green, my love. Our House words must not be forgotten..."

Your chin lifted, knowing in heart, you would always be a Targaryen Dragon more than a Velaryon Sea Horse - telling her gently, "Fire and Blood..."

"When the time comes," Rhaenyra sighed, "I can only pray I leave you with dragon scales instead of skin - so that their green flames do not burn you, my sweet girl."

You smirked gently at her, "Mother, fire - whether Green or not, cannot kill a dragon. Though I know I've salt in my veins, too, it is the blood of Old Valyria, and fire will be my ally."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned to pull you in closer with a kiss to your head. "I know it is sudden news, but we still have years with each other. Much will change, but I will never leave you feeling unprepared." Movement, again, caught her eye over your shoulder; making her sniffle and sober up. "Go on, go now. Find your brothers for me, please."

You agreed, and after a kiss to her cheek, left her be; passing your silent Great Uncle Daemon along the way with only a head nod of acknowledgement.

Time on Dragonstone was never the same. Days after laying your Aunt Laena to rest, you lost your own father, Lord Laenor, to a petty quarrel he had with his lover, Qarl. The lad was never found, apparently somewhere lost to the Stepstones, but the anger never dissipated. Your mother had welcomed the Knight into the family, and he turned blade on your father?

In Laenor's father's hall?

The devastating blow was hardest on you, who could not grieve far enough. You internalized a lot of it, but your brother's tried to help you shoulder it all - yet this was a path you walked alone. Seemingly only days after that, on your ancestral home, your mother then married her Uncle Daemon, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena were now your step-sisters.

They lived with you all on Dragonstone and your mother took your education very seriously. Professors came into port to be guests of the castle, dedicating hours upon hours a day to tutor you in a broad arrangement of subjects.

History, philosophy, reading, philanthropy, writing, specialized tutors to broaden your Valyrian, a whole class on just diction - forcing you to learn new words; first-aid training, and even drawing.

Your step-father also took up your training after your beloved father had passed. Daemon recommended you work your anger and grief out through the training yard, and you took that advice to heart. He posed as a challenger in damn-near everything, and by the Gods, you tried not to feel competitive, but it sharpened your wit and instincts. Daemon knew what he was doing, and yet, never showed an ounce of 'loving warmth', only stoic respect.

Your mother taught you what she could about being both Lady and wife - taking meals privately with you to go into more expressive details. Questions you had, she answered; and as you grew older, you wondered deeper - and she often answered with red, flushed cheeks. Yet your mother kept her promise and would not let you go off to King's Landing unprepared.

You read books. Wrote letters, kept journals. Learned from experience, learned from reading; did what you could to understand as much as possible, never quenching your thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps, subconsciously, you wondered if this would create more distance between now and your marriage - but your 18th nameday was creeping up, and you were out of options.

Three months before, your summons arrived.

Your mother tried to deliver the news softly, but tears broke her waterline; and you understood that she meant to say goodbye. Apparently, by Queen Alicent's hand-written letter, you were to marry the Prince before the week's end, and it was already midweek.

Aemond did not wish for a big wedding, but your family insisted on something. Viserys had called upon the royal dressers, and all festivities would be covered. All you had to do was show up, and yet, it felt like that was the hardest chore. Your mother had sniffled as she pet your hair off your shoulders, nodding, "It's time, my girl."

Daemon opted not to attend the wedding and after a bit of persuasion, your mother and brothers decided to stay on Dragonstone with him. You were to travel alone because you were to hit the ground running, and you were beyond nervous.

Your mother helped pack your things - sending servants and maids away to let you two have moments of privacy. She gave you last second advice, promising that when you need it, she was always there for you. Dragonstone wasn't far by dragonback and there were always ravens to send - but she warned you about the Hightowers more than likely intercepting letters.

She advised you to write in code.

Promised she loved you.

Swore to you that marriage wasn't always all so bad; and before you knew it, you were standing with Kasta's packed saddle - facing your family for the final time.

"Well," you breathed, nodding at them all, "I wish to say that I will miss you all, and thank you for the incredible years."

"Good luck, sister," Jace nodded.

The night before, the boys had snuck into your room for the last time and let you hold them; tears of sadness weeping into their dark brown locks. You smiled at him, "Thank you, brother. I will send a raven when I am settled, and... Well, you know."

"When you're married," Luke teased, giggling lightly.

"Hush," you mother chided gently, but smiled at the boy, glancing at you. "Go hug your sister goodbye, love."

Luke frowned deeply and rushed for your waist - though, no longer being a small child, he was still a young lad; and you could wrap your arms around him tightly. You kissed the top of his head and sighed, "I'll miss you with my heart, Luke. I promise to write you, you can practice writing me back if you want."

"But, sister," he worried, pulling back only so to hush, "what if the nightmares come back?"

You smiled at him, "I left you a present on your bed. I hope that helps you through the nights. Let it be a comfort." It was a red and black stuffed dragon toy, something you prayed would comfort him in your absence.

He nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Do not go," he begged gently, holding your skirts.

"I'd stay if I could, but this is for the best," you assured, never having the heart to tell him that your marriage arrangement was made some years ago, and now, as you were a woman, it was time to 'pay up' to save him from being blinded. He didn't need to know the truth.

Jace pulled Luke back but instantly stepped up in his place, instead. He sighed into your neck; much taller than the last time you remembered, and letting yourself loose a few tears. "Do not let them change you, sister. Please, be safe," Jace rushed in your ear, tightening his hug.

"I will," you cried, giving him a squeeze. "Be there for Mother... She'll need you now."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away.

"Be good," you chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he moved back. Baela and Rhaena stepped up to hug you goodbye, having grown fond of their older 'sister' during the time you had together. You kissed their foreheads, bid them well, and again, promised you were only a raven away.

Daemon was next, and he did offer a hug (shockingly). You squeezed into his embrace, and when you pulled back, he wished, "Good luck in the city, niece. Remember the leech will feed, even when fat. My brother's blinded by..." He sighed. "Nevermind. It's not your responsibility. Just do not let him forget his family loves him."

"I'll be sure to be there for him, Uncle."

He nodded, "Then - good luck. Marriage is mostly political, so, play your part with caution in mind."

"Your advice has always been appreciated," you nodded. "And thank you - for all the lessons you gave these past years."

"What a student I had," he smirked, giving you a final nod as you moved on to your mother.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You'll write, won't you?" Her hands reached, as they always did, to pet over the silver locks that spilled down your shoulders.

"Of course," you promised softly. "You will not be rid of me so easily."

"I should hope not," she chuckled, but held her tears at bay.

"Say it now, Mum, and I will stay," you promised in a whisper. "You need me, and I will stay - "

"No," she sighed, moving to hold your cheeks. "You are no longer responsible for me. I would not let you go if I thought it was feeding you to the wolves... Though I wish for you to stay, there is a duty to be performed, my sweet girl."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I'll just miss you terribly. Who will I go to for advice?"

"You'll understand who to trust, but keep in mind that you might write in a journal. Let it act as if it's me, and write, my girl. Hide it away, burn it even, but do not let yourself feel so isolated."

"A Black Dragon in an Emerald Mine," you snickered softly, making her grin. "I will not disappoint you, Mother."

"You never do," she promised. "Be careful, and do not trust anyone. You're in the snake's garden now, and their bite is fierce."

You nodded, hands over hers to hold your cheeks. "I wish you'd be there."

"I do, too," she promised. "But you are my strongest girl, you will endure this with grace."

You nodded, leaning in to hug her one last time. She sniffled into your neck, but after a moment, you had to giggle, "Mum, you've got to let me go. Mumma, c'mon, now."

She groaned and released you, "All right, fine. Go on. I love you - so much. Do not forget that."

You climbed onto Kasta's mighty back; needing something of a rope ladder to get on her properly. With another wave, your family called their love and luck; hearing Kasta roar in departure before surging forward, spreading her wings, and then leaping off the cliffside. You held on tightly as she cut through the air, your family all watching as Kasta roared once more but otherwise, did not turn back.

You cried during the whole flight; truly afraid of what you were to encounter when you landed. Alicent and the Hightowers knew of your arrival, and you wondered why she insisted on such a swift wedding.

Last you knew, your fiancé had both concurred the largest dragon in the world but also lost his left eye.

Perhaps there was a rush so you could not back out. But you had honor, and if your hand in marriage is what it took to heal the rift between your families, to soothe the wound Lucerys inflicted, then so be it. There was honor in completing one's duty.

You prayed, through tears, it was enough.

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

[breakfastteatime]

Shy. Nervous. Respectful. Those are the emotions radiating from Cal as he looks around his and Jaro's shared quarters. Jaro had time to move what few personal belongings he had in before collecting Cal from his (now former) clan, and he is curious to know what the little one thinks of it all.

Or, to be more accurate, he wonders what each object could tell him.

Ah. That may be part of the reason for the nerves. Although Jaro is quite certain nothing in here could cause any kind of emotional upset. However, that is not for him to judge. He is not the one gifted with psychometry after all.

"Do you sense anything alarming here?" he asks Cal.

Cal shakes his head. "There are lots of echoes though."

"Is there something you want to know more about?" Jaro is aware that Cal has been taught to rein in his curiosity where possible. They will need to find their own balance with his psychometry, especially within their own living space. "What's mine is yours, Padawan. You need not be afraid."

"It's, uh, it's not in here," Cal says. "I think it's in the 'fresher. It's kinda loud."

Most unexpected. Jaro feels an eyebrow twitch as he allows Cal to go on ahead of him. In the refresher, Cal points to an item so tiny, Jaro has to lean in to see what it is.

Of course. Master Yaddle's comb. She'd give it to him years ago, not to use (his hands are far too large) but as a reminder that she had used it to maintain his Padawan braid whenever she needed to add new markers of his successes and achievements... or whenever it simply grew out or became tangled and messy. Jaro had placed it in here for Cal to use, not thinking that Cal would be able to read its past.

"You can pick it up if you'd like," Jaro says. He crouches down to Cal's level, scoops up the comb, and holds it out to him. "I left it here for you to use, but of course I did not pause to consider the echo it may have left in the Force. It belonged to my master, long ago, and she gave it to me after I was knighted and made me promise to give it to the first Padawan I had whose hands were small enough to use it."

Cal giggles as Jaro waggles his fingers. He reaches out and plucks the comb from Jaro's palm. His gaze goes distant as the Force speaks to Cal in a language Jaro cannot understand. Honestly, he cannot even perceive what it is Cal does, only that his connection to the Force is strong and deep, albeit following a different path to the one Jaro's takes. He watches, fascinated, as Cal breaks out into a smile and laughs, returning from the past in amazement. "You were so much bigger than Master Yaddle she had to stand on a stool to reach your head even when you sat down!" he cries out in delight, both hands clutching the comb. "She really liked styling your hair. It was like meditating to her. She hummed while she worked."

"Indeed she did." Jaro had almost forgotten about that.

Cal looks up at him. "You still braid all your hair the way she used to."

"Master Yaddle was wise in all that she did."

"She... she's gone, isn't she?" Cal asks, head dipping, foot scuffing the refresher's tiled floor.

"She is, Cal."

"I'm sorry, Master."

"I know, and I do miss her, however she is one with the Force now, and I take great comfort in that." Jaro can tell Cal isn't entirely sure what that means. A lesson for another day when he is a little older, perhaps. "I will certainly share more stories about her, however, I am sure she would be very happy to know I have kept my promise and given her comb to one who can use it."

"Me?" Cal asks.

"Yes, Padawan, you."

Cal holds the comb tight. "Thanks, Master. I promise I'll look after it!"

[o5-7-firefox]

So I absolutely love the idea of a Kane Chronicles/PJO crossover in which somehow Nico accidentally becomes the host of Anubis.

Nico and Anubis are hanging in a graveyard. Anubis is standing behind a mausoleum so when Sadie and Carter find them they are understandably confused. After all, Nico looks very similar to Anubis–so similar, in fact, that with Anubis behind the mausoleum, they thought Nico WAS Anubis.

Anubis moves to introduce them. He calls Nico his friend and goes to pat his shoulder when *something* happens. And suddenly Nico has fallen and Anubis's form vanished. In Nico's eyes instead of pupils there are golden ankhs. He's understandably panicking, and Anubis appears again, trying to comfort him.

Because somehow, when Anubis placed his hand on Nico's shoulder, he took him as a host. So Nico has a god in his head now. And he can see into the Duat.

Just imagine.

Nico fighting like a demon, the faint image of a jackal fighting alongside him. Throwing out Divine Words as he summons shadows and bones. Biting with extra-sharp canines if he's trapped. A wild animal, and in each eye a golden ankh, burning with the fury of the gods.

On the other hand, he works through some stuff

He becomes less shut off from everyone. Less anxious with somebody in his head to reassure him. Anubis is respectful; he backs off when Nico wants to spend some time without the voice in his head, but is always supportive when he's needed.

Nico and Anubis in Tartarus.

It would be hard for Anubis to reach him down there, of course, because though death is universal, monsters are not, and Tartarus is just so very Greek. All Anubis can manage is to lend Nico some strength, which is all that keeps him from dying in the house of Nyx. When he's captured, it is Anubis's power that keeps him alive until the Seven can rescue him– the pomegranate seeds are powerful, but not that powerful.

When Percy and Annabeth fall into Tartarus, Nico can't move. He desperately reaches out to Anubis, allowing him to possess his body, not caring in anyone finds out. They sprint forwards and Anubis casts a Divine Word– Tas, bind, to create a net keeping the two up. But the pull of Tartarus is too strong, and they fall anyway.

Nico beats himself up about it. After all, if he hadn't frozen, hadn't taken the time to decide to let Anubis take the reins, he may have been able to save them. But Anubis gently reminds him that some things are meant to happen, and Nico doesn't blame himself as much, especially once they emerge from the Doors.

Eventually he tells the Seven. He introduces them to Anubis and Brooklyn House. Everyone becomes really great friends. Nico has dinners with the Kanes. He visits Brooklyn House often, occasionally bringing Percy and Annabeth if they want to see Sadie and Carter again. He even brings the rest of the Seven sometimes. Eventually, he starts bringing Will.

Bast kind of dislikes Nico from the beginning, because of his connection to/the fact that he is hosting Anubis, but soon she grows to think of him as another of her kits.

When Hades finds out, he asks Anubis to show himself, so he makes another form and Hades chews him out (how could he be so irresponsible, does he have any idea the danger this holds for Nico, does he even know how to mitigate the damage that their powers combined will cause to Nico's body, etc) but it's clear he's just worried. When they explain they're okay Hades kind of unofficially adopts Anubis, despite them being from separate pantheons. Nico is Prince of the Underworld, and now by extension, Anubis is Prince as well.

Anubis helping Nico accept himself. Nico in my AU is non-binary and it takes him a while to come to terms even longer to accept that he doesn't have to look a certain way just because of his gender or because of his being the child of Hades. Anubis helps him realise that he can wear colours, he can be pastel and soft and still be badass and not be any less non-binary– and absolutely the Ghost King while being adorable and fluffy and rainbow.

So yeah. Basically Nico as the host of Anubis.

You can just see the autism huh

[ozimaniac]

[A Character Analysis of Zen]

Now that we have Zen’s birthday date and know that his zodiac sign is cancer, I just want to look at some characteristics. (Because I’m guessing that these dates were picked for a reason and not just random.) I Also want to talk about his past and why he is so avoidant about it. Even if I just end up pointlessly rambling about it, with no clear conclusion, because we just don’t know yet.

I will now infodump. A lot.

So a main characteristic of cancers is that they are closed off or seem distant at first. Cancers hold back on revealing their thoughts, therefore they come off as mysterious and not easy to approach. They also try to avoid confrontation. They retreat into their “shells” if they are uncomfortable and they like to brood.

Nonetheless they are very caring and protective about their family and friends. They might put the comfort of others before their own. They have the tendency to be self-sacrificing.

I think this description fits Zen well. His character seems calm and at peace with himself at first, but slowly you realise that there are underlying insecurities and you don’t really know what he is thinking. Ow2 actually gave us some voice lines that make it more clear that he isn’t a perfect individual, that reached complete inner peace. He has struggles of his own.

I also saw “dislikes revealing of personal life”, which is really accurate. He has always been really mysterious, especially about his past. This is noticeable in the interaction with Rein and Genji, where Rein asks him “What did you do? You know, before the Crisis?” And he will give different responses, that are kind of short, silly or underwhelming, and it’s implied that he isn’t telling the entire truth. Let me list the following responses:

“I served coffee.”

“I collected payments at a laser tag arena.”

“I was a lifeguard at a water park.”

“I drove a tractor.”

These are pretty ordinary jobs, and I don’t doubt that he worked these jobs. (Except for the lifeguard one maybe, he doesn’t look very waterproof.) So I don’t think that he is lying.. but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t hiding something.

There is also a line, that I think has been cut out of the game, because I only found it in one video.

“I massaged sheep on a free range pasture.”

(Now that’s a dream job. But seriously.. I almost thought I went insane and made it up, because it was really hard to find.)

Then Rein asks “Is that true?” and Genji says “He won’t tell me either.” (Ram also says something similar.) So although he has a close relationship with Genji, he still won’t reveal what happened in his past. And this obviously makes me think that something bad happened, and that he is uncomfortable talking about it.

He also has a line that goes “My memories before the awakening are blurry, but I do remember some things.” and he doesn’t elaborate further.

It could be that he legitimately doesn’t remember a lot before the awakening, and this makes him feel really insecure. Gaining sentience as an omnics and trying to uncover those memories from the past, is probably like thinking about your first memories when you were a child. You might only remember snippets, and you might not be able to recall memories from a certain age. It could also be that some trauma has caused him to repress certain memories about his past and he feels subconsciously uncomfortable about it, which leads to avoidant behaviour, which might be his coping mechanism. Or he does remember his trauma and he is purposefully avoiding it, to not make the people around him uncomfortable or bring the mood down.

Zen’s current self is introverted, wise and sometimes witty. He went through a journey of self healing to get where he is now. So if I had to imagine what he used to be like in the past, then I’m picturing a quiet, oblivious and maybe anxious character. In the story with Symmetra he said that he used to have difficulty understanding certain phrases, which has some parallels to an autistic experience, like Symmetra’s.

His insecurities also shine through in some other voice lines. Like when he talks about his favourite animal, ants. He says “I envy ants for their clarity of purpose.” Although Zen seems quite accomplished, he still lacks purpose in his own eyes. There is also an interaction with Zarya where she asks if he dreams, and Zen answers with “I dream of peace. And, sometimes, falling.” Falling in dreams represents a lack of control over a situation or your life. Also feelings of anxiety or helplessness. 

Tw: trauma and bullying.

Ok so, what was his past like before the crisis.

First I want to look at Zen’s model. He is just an average, humanoid looking omnic. What we saw from Genesis, is that omnics like him were created for various odd jobs. We saw them being cooks or caretakers or servants.

And it’s not hard to imagine that those omnics faced a lot of mistreatment if they made mistakes. It would have been easy for humans to blame omnics and just treat them like objects, and bully them verbally or physically.

If you get bullied early on in your life, it’s likely that this will affect you throughout your life. So even if Zen wasn’t “awakened” yet, he still states that he remembers some things, and that mistreatment could explain his current, closed off self. When he is approached or asked things, he doesn’t say a lot and that could be learned behaviour, and a self defense mechanism. He also uses a lot of wisdoms and phrases that might seem impersonal, at least to strangers. (This could also be a masking behaviour.)

I can also imagine that omnics worked isolating jobs, which humans might avoid. (I’m picturing working in a closed off small space with repetitive tasks or no social interactions. Maybe a factory setting.) And this kind of job could get really lonely and boring. Once again, this could have led him to be more closed off, if he worked in that kind of environment.

Why would he keep this a secret though? Well, maybe it’s just not worth talking about. Sometimes the truth is boring, and the biggest fear is to disappoint. (This is less likely though, because he seems very intent to not tell anyone the details. So it’s probably something more serious that happened, like I mentioned before.)

Instead of being a victim, could Zen have been the aggressor? I think that’s unlikely, because it’s about his past before the crisis. Before the awakening. Most likely he did as he was told, because he didn’t have that level of autonomy yet. This also means that people were able to easily take advantage of him. If people mistreated him, then he had to just accept that, because that was his programming. Also I just don’t see Zen as being aggressive.

Well, anyway that was it!

I got sidetracked a lot on other thoughts, but I wanted to write about Zen’s past for a long time. His zodiac sign just gave me some confirmation about what I was initially thinking.

[wandering-night19]

I'm probably sharing too much, but this is the last time I'll be sharing anything from the 4x18 coda before I start posting next week (fingers crossed). Thanks for the tag @welcometololaland you're one of the only reasons I'll finish this fic. You and @whenshereads. And thanks for the tag @jesuisici33. It might read a little awkwardly because I left the English in, so everyone would be able to understand.

The dust is thick. It coats his tongue and the back of his throat, makes him instantly yearn for water and to return to the safety and comfort of the kitchen. The ranch hands are exercising the horses, letting them stretch their legs and run around in circles. Carlos is just tall enough to see over the second slat of wood of the fence into the corral. His father has separated out one of the horses in another corral and is finishing tightening up the saddle.

“¡Ven aquí, Carlitos! (Come here, Carlitos!)”

Carlos remains where he is, fists clenched tight around the wood fence. His father sighs. 

“Yo lo aguanto (I’ll hold him),” he reassures. “Súbete. (You climb up).”

Carlos hesitates, but he can see his father growing more frustrated and he doesn’t want to disappoint him anymore than he already has. He climbs between the fence and carefully makes his way to where his father holds the horse.

“A lo mejor debo montar uno más chico. (Maybe I should have a littler one),” Carlos says. “O uno más viejo. (Or maybe an older one).”

The black horse snorts and dances around as far as his father’s hold allows him.

“Este es el caballo para ti. (This is the horse for you.)”

The statement leaves no room for disagreement, so with shaking hands and legs, Carlos approaches the horse. He’s barely able to reach his foot up to the stirrup to pull himself up, but his father keeps a hand on his back and the other tight on the rope until he’s settled in the saddle.

“Ahora, dale la vuelta alrededor. (Now, take him around the fence.)”

Carlos grips the reins tight, the leather cutting into his palms. The horse remains in place.

“?Quien está a cargo, tu o el caballo? (Is the horse the boss or you?)”

Carlos gives a little kick and the horse jolts forward, but it’s worth it for the smile on his father’s face.

“Muy bien, mijo. Ahora, aprietalo con las piernes, no zapatées tanto. (Good job, mijo. Now squeeze with your legs, don’t kick too much.)” Carlos does as instructed as the horse continues in a circle around the fence. “Bien. (Good.)” He settles into an easy canter and makes several more loops. He’s never seen his father so proud. He sees his mama out on the porch, apron covered in flour. He waves at her, his father’s pride bolstering his own.

Carlos doesn’t know what happens, but between one second and the next the horse is bucking and he feels himself soaring through the air before he lands in a heap on the dirt. He coughs dust coming out of his mouth to mingle with spit and make mud. His knees and hands hurt and his hat has tumbled off. 

His father calms the horse and grabs the rope. “Vuelve y móntalo, Carlitos. (Get back on, Carlitos.)”

Carlos wants to cry. He can feel the tears forming behind his eyes, the tightness in his throat. He shakes his head. “No,” he tells him.

“Si dejas que el miedo te controle, nunca vas a hacer nada. Ahora, vuelve y móntalo. (If you let fear rule your life you’ll never do anything. Now get up and get back on him.)”

Carlos stands up, brushing dirt from his arms and legs as he sniffs. He doesn’t want to cry in front of his father. He stays standing where he is, little arms crossed over his little chest. His father sighs, rubs the horse’s nose. “Si no lo vuelves a montar, siempre le vas a tener miedo. El miedo no es malo, mijo, pero no puedas dejar que te controle. Nunca te va a respetar si no te das a respetar. (If you don’t get back on him you’ll always be afraid. It’s okay to be scared mijo, but it’s not okay to let it control you. He’ll never learn to respect you if you give up the minute he tests you.)”  His father pauses, turns to look at him instead of the horse. “And you’ll never respect yourself if you give up now. So, get back on him.”

Open tag! And also no pressure tagging @thebumblecee @heartstringsduet @liminalmemories21 @lemonlyman-dotcom @strandnreyes @rosedavid @rmd-writes @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader

[mako-neexu]

Post-FGL | Ritsuka holds Rokka’s hand. 「じゃね」

“Idiot! I’ll remember you!”

Even as it was her last line to him, saying it... felt heavy. Even before she came here and sensed his presence, she had prepared herself for another hello and another goodbye.

(Someone her pushed her into the light, saying that he was going to wait outside of this bubble of a universe.)

And she knew, deep down, that Ritsuka, this Ritsuka, understood. 

He understood and smiled at her before she and Eli left.

As her Servant in this Universe, the singer and idol who was one of the few to answer her calls in her timeline faded away into gold dust, smiling at her so sweetly like she did before in Orleans after her first Singularity.

After traversing through space, and emptiness with no concept of time, so much like the inside of her friend’s abyssal stomach, she found herself becoming a commentator and announcer for a fun little baseball game.

To see her friends again after so long-

She could barely hold back her high five from seeing her friend, her offer of a drink with I-chan, a cook off with her Super Cook, and another banter with her stupid but beloved Shachou...

...What a long journey.

She really had missed this.

Yet she takes a deep breath, as Rokka approaches the gates, her headset now set aside, her duties done, no purpose left-

“Wait!”

A hand clutches at her own, alerting her of the person that tugged her back into the arena before she herself vanished from this world and slowly disappeared into the void.

“What...?” She couldn’t help her confusion, her thundering heartbeat loud in her ears. “H-Hey! You guys just won the match remember!” She tried to smirk and wriggle her hand away from Ritsuka’s grasp. “If you want another match with me being the commentator again, wait ‘till next year, you idiot!”

Pain. She can see the pain in his eyes, and it was hurting her as well.

He let go of her wrist and took a step back, with a hand going up to rub his nape, “S-Sorry! After our victory against the Crypters, I got swarmed with our Servants with congratulations and I wasn’t able to catch up to you...”

Rokka rolls her eyes with a smile, “Dude, you should take this chance to take pictures of them. I mean, have you seen Cas and Morgan? What about Gray and Reines? They were so cute! This is the only chance you’re gonna see them in baseball attire after a-”

She stilled.

Wait. Our?

Her silence after that brief pause stretched.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ritsuka smiled softly, both of his hands now reaching forwards to hold her own.

Rokka could only hold her breath.

From the cheers and merriment of the Servants, the fireworks that continued to pop and decorate the sky, and the lights of the stadium all became mere background noise as clock struck half past 11′o clock.

Dao. Ritsuka squeezes her hands in a reassuring grip, “Even though they bear the same voice and faces, they aren’t the same.”

...Was it really? She was just a different Master with a different gender. She knew as soon as looking at Ritsuka that their experiences were completely identical that it was hard to tell which is which.

But he was right.

These people weren’t the ones who she shared a meal with, who she played games and stayed up all night with, who she went to many Singularities and Lostbelts with, who she fought with and against.

These Servants are not hers, nor does she belong to them.

A calloused but warm hand cups her cheek, wiping away a tear that slid down her cheek.

“Even so, you love them, right?” Dao’s smile. His smile was enough to make her tears now continuously flow. 

His smile turns into a grin, a grin she knew well and used after a winning a victory hard-earned, “After all, you’re Ritsuka Fujimaru too!”

Oh.

It’s been so long since someone called her by that name.

...Who knew the person who would call her by that is none other than a guy version of her.

She laughs, snorts, and brushes the flowing tears away as Rokka was pulled into a hug.

Ah, she didn’t wanna ruin his cool jersey... but to hell with it. They’ve only got a few minutes left.

Rokka clutches at his shirt as she smiles and cries against his chest, “Ugh, it’s supposed to be April Fools.”

It’s supposed to end in fun and games. In pleasant surprise and laughter.

Not... not like this.

He read her again, and smiled against her red-orange hair, “I don’t mind. We didn’t even pay you after being out oh-so spectacular announcer after all.”

Rokka hit his arm playfully, laughter in between her words, “Stop that! You sound like Oberon!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our talent in voice-acting?” Ritsuka tilted her chin up, so that she was gazing into a cool-blue gaze.

She blushed. So there was no helping that pinch on his arm as she puffed her cheeks, “Of course I remember! Didn’t you remember the time we had to imitate Herc during a singularity...”

--

Life is a series of helloes and goodbyes.

Even if you say ‘goodbye’ now, I’m sure we’ll meet again.

Surely, oneday. Someday. In a world where we could smile and laugh together and walk side by side.

[theinsanefox]

Eiden/Edmond Fluffy Ficlet

The last part of the event reminded me I wrote this scene I deleted from a longer fic where Edmond teaches Eiden to ride a horse. I wanna write a whole thing with this but the end scene of Edmond and Eiden riding together made my crazy horse girl heart so happy. 😭 Enjoy this silly little scene!

Eiden returns as promised, although his confusion is evident when he sees that Edmond is holding the reins to two different horses in the garden.

“Horses?” Eiden asks, and Edmond can’t help but enjoy hearing the slight pitch in his voice.

“Yes, horses.” Edmond laughs. “We need to ride them to get where we’re going.”

Eiden stares for a moment before nodding, but when Edmond goes to hand him the reins of the gray mare he grabbed for him from the stables, Eiden stops him. “Wait. I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“Do you not have horses in your world?” Edmond cocks his head much like a confused puppy.

“I mean, yes. But we haven’t needed to use them for transportation for something like two hundred years. So now if people keep them, it’s as pets or they ride them for sport. But it’s very expensive and it’s not like any of my foster homes ever gave me the opportunity to try it.” Eiden scratches the back of his head, his eyes downcast in an unusual show of insecurity.

Edmond hums in response. Eiden’s world continues to sound so strange to him — how do they travel without horses? But at least he sees this as another opportunity. 

“Then it’s time I teach you how to ride.”

Eiden makes a sound that resembles a frightened squeak, and Edmond can’t help but chuckle at how cute it is. 

“I’ve picked a very calm horse, don’t worry. She’ll take care of you.”

Eiden didn’t look convinced. But several minutes later, he’s precariously balanced on the mare’s back. His position is very uncoordinated and he’s clearly very nervous, much like a small child on their first pony. Edmond smiles as he reaches up and shows him how to properly hold the reins, then goes to move his leg to where it needs to be.

“You’re doing well. Point her nose in the direction you want to go and give her a light squeeze with your calves to get her to move forward.”

Eiden has questionable success in his steering, but by the end of their quick session, he at least seems to have better figured out his balance.

“Think you can make it on a half hour ride?”

The defeated groan Eiden gives him is answer enough.

After Edmond returns the mare to the stable and asks the young man there to take care of her, he gets Eiden on his own bay gelding before he swings up behind him.

“Is this okay?” Edmond asks as he gets situated. It takes a bit of compensating to adjust his seat so that they’re both comfortable, but when Eiden nods, Edmond clucks his tongue at the horse and they head down the trail at an easy walk.

He can feel when Eiden finally relaxes, leaning back into Edmond’s chest with a sigh. Edmond is glad that Eiden is in front of him because there’s no way he’d be able to hide any redness in his face otherwise.

“Where are we going?” Eiden breaks the silence.

“A favorite place of mine.”

Eiden hums and thankfully doesn’t push beyond that.

Although the demon does occasionally move so that his ass presses back against Edmond’s cock through their clothes. Edmond knows he makes some very undignified noises when it happens, and judging by the smirk Eiden flashes him, that was exactly the goal.

[opie-nixx]

From the Rooftops. (CHAP. 19)

My mind racing, gripping the reins and squeezing my thighs, bracing myself for how fast my horse runs. The sound of leaves and twigs crunching as my appaloosa hooves thud with each step. Wind blowing through my hair.

'I won't be able to save you, and I am sorry but I can still save everyone else.' My eyes begin to brim with tears. 

'This is some bullshit.' I think to myself. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Riding into Saint Denis, I take a small detour and make it to a gun shop.

'I need a rifle. I'm going to be covering from the rooftops, so I need to play this smart and cover them as much as I can.'

Store Owner: "What can I help you with, Miss?"

Y/n: "I need a rolling block rifle." I say sweetly, the man gives a questioning look but quickly replaces it with a grin as he turns and grabs 1 off the shelf.

Store Owner: "Have any idea how to use it?"

Y/n: "No, do you mind showing me real quick?" He nods and shows me how to hold, aim and reload.

Giving him the cash and leaving with some bullets, he hands me the gun and I take my leave, as soon as I walk out the door I hear a loud explosion.

Y/n: "I gotta move fast." I shoulder the weapon and mount my horse. Giving my horse the signal to gallop off with a small nudge. Weaving between people and shouting at them to disperse, I don't slow down. Once I reach the street for the Lemoyne National Bank, I dismount and begin to holster both of my pistols, strapping my Lancaster Repeater to me and shouldering my Rolling Block. I swallow thickly as I feel my blood pump and my heart race. I try to take deep breaths and shake the anxiety from my hands as I scan the streets which are miraculously empty. Giving my horse a few pats and some sweet words, I give it a slap to the ass and shoo it out of the vicinity. 

Rounding the back of the buildings on the side of the bank, I look for a ladder either to the bank or next to it. Finding a ladder to the building complex next to the bank I do another scan before climbing up. My ears perk up as I hear the commotion from the bank. Sounds like Dutch separated everyone from the Bank Manager. 1 foot after the other I continue to climb up, my anxiety through the roof as my stomach does flips, the weight of the weapons feel as if they are boulders to me. I swallow hard all the saliva that began to pool in my mouth. Reaching the top I throw my guns on the ground before I hop over. My eyes tearing up as everything I had in my stomach rushes from my mouth, crouching in a corner to try and keep it contained I begin to silently cry.

'Why Hosea? Why cant I save them all? Why is this so hard?' I think to myself as my breathing becomes so raspy and uneven. I try to think of so many ways I could try, but as my memory serves me from playing this scene so many times..I know that it isnt just Milton, its Milton and his men and the law of Saint Denis. Once I come to the harsh realization, I suck on my teeth and gather all the saliva in my mouth. Giving it 1 last spit before pushing myself up. I holster my pistols and shoulder my repeater.

'I can't save you Hosea, but I will keep your promise and I will make them pay.' I tie/slick(push) my hair in a ponytail/out of my face and pick up the Rolling Block Rifle, I move into position where I know I'll have good sight of Milton and his men. Arranging the bullets and loading the rifle, I hear footsteps gather in front of the building. I crouch down, but make sure I can still see Hosea. 

Milton: "Come out, it's over." I can hear some muffled talking and panic in the bank from the gang.

Milton: "Dutch, get out here!" He shouts as he pushes Hosea out from behind a wagon with no horse, with his gun pointed at his head.

Milton: "Get. OUT HERE NOW!" He shouts again but with each word he pushes the barrel of his gun at Hosea, who sheepishly had his hands up. I look around at all the men that surrounded them and the ones that lined the rooftops. I could feel my heart pound in my chest as I take some more deep breaths and watch the scene unfold below me. I look again. Hard and noticed that Hosea looked different. In the game, he looked scared but here. Below me he looked spooked but calm. As if he could have known I see him glance up towards me. My eyes narrow as he gives me a small smirk before giving his attention to the bank.

'Hosea...Does this mean he has peace? He accepts his fate?' For some reason, I don't feel sad in that moment, even though I know how this will end. I feel my sweaty shaky palms become cool as I grip the barrel of the rifle.

Dutch: "Mr. Milton...Let my friend go....Or folks are gonna get shot unnecessarily."

Milton: "Your friend? Ha! Why would I do that?"

Dutch: "Come on Milton."

Milton: "It's over. No more bargains, no more deals."

Dutch: "Mr. Milton, this is America, you can always cut a deal." My eyes narrow yet again I point the barrel of the rifle at 1 of the men across the roofs.

Milton: "I've given you enough chances." He pushes Hosea out of his grasp. Hosea stumbles a bit as he walks forward. My grip on the rifle got tighter, as my eyes focused on Hosea. He once again glanced at me with a relieved look before turning to face Milton...Who then pulled the trigger. For once in my entire time in this universe, the gun shot rang loud and then Hosea dropped to the ground.

Arthur: "God Dammit!"

Dutch: "No!"

Milton: "There's your deal, Dutch." He says smugly. My adrenaline begins to flood and I change the target in my cross-hairs on my rifle.

Y/n: "Milton!" I shout. I aim for his bald head.

Y/n: "Here's my counter offer!" I shout as I choke the trigger with my index finger, sadly Milton moved out of the way, but the bullet grazed the side of his face. I hear him scream in agony as he holds the side of his face and runs to cover.

Dutch: "God Dammit! Kill those bastards!" I hear glass shatter from the bank and shooting break out from below.

Dutch: "Y/n! Is that you!?" He shouts. I aim for the men across the rooftops and begin shooting and reloading left and right.

Y/n: "Yes! I'm covering from the top! I don't know how long I can hold this spot so hurry up and start looking for an escape!" I shout back.

John: "We'll try!"

Arthur: "Kill all those sons of bitches!" My nose fills with the smell of synged flesh and gun smoke, between bodies dropping and bullet casings. I hear the men argue as they try and figure something out below.

Y/n: "Dutch!"

Dutch: "What!"

Y/n: "I need you to blow a hole in the side of the building! I can draw there attention to help you get up here!"

Dutch: "You beautiful sweet girl!" He soon calls for Arthur. Sadly my gun jams as I try to reload, then I hear footsteps approach.

Y/n: "Fuck!" I shout to myself.

Arthur/Charles: "Y/n!"

Y/n: "I'm fine!" I shout through gritted teeth as I run over to the ladder, taking the butt of my gun I hit the Agent in the head repeatedly, blood pooling from his face as he finally lets go. The man below him was a bit smarter and had his pistol ready, I throw the rifle at him and he shields his face, as I try to pull out my pistol I feel someone grab me from behind and wraps 1 arm around my neck as the other 1 grabs my arm holding my gun, he twists it causing me to drop it. I put my hands on the man's arms to try and loosen his grip on me. The man on the ladder soon climbs up, he rushes towards us and raises his hand with the butt of his pistol showing. My eyes widen in fear of not wanting to get hit. The adrenaline rushing through me and I tighten my grip on the man holding me and grind my feet into the ground and spin on the ball of my foot, causing me and the man to spin. The man that climbed up the ladder hit the man holding me with full force causing his grip on me to be released, I waste no time and pull out my other holstered pistol, aiming in there direction I squeeze the trigger, pulling the hammer back quickly with my thumb and squeezing again with my index I fire again between the both of them. They drop and I hear a loud explosion and the roof rumble beneath my feet.

'Arthur must've blown the wall.' I quickly move to grab my pistol I dropped and holster it as well as my other and pull out my repeater.

Arthur: "I'm coming Y/n!" I take cover again and begin shooting the men regrouping across the way. I glance at the roof next to the bank as I see Arthur run to cover.

Arthur: "You're gonna have to jump over here!" I duck down and look towards him. Seeing no other alternative I nod and shoulder my repeater. Arthur stands from cover and begins to shoot them left and right. I soon see Javier and Charles climb up on the roof.

'I know if I slip, they will catch me.' I think to myself as I feel that fear creep up on me yet again. Arthur ducks behind a wooden sign as he looks at me.

Arthur: "You can do it, girl!" With those words, my mind goes blank and my legs move on there own. They move fast as they carry me from my cover to the edge of the roof. My hands grip the siding of the roof and my feet swing over and hop on the ledge, balancing myself I soon push off and Javier and Charles rush to the side where I was jumping and hold out there hands. I stretch my arms out as my body glides through the air. I soon feel 2 strong hands grip onto mine, my body slams against the building and a breath I didn't know I was holding is released. They begin to pull me up, my feet digging into the side of the building as I climb up. Once my upper half is over the ledge, they let go of my hands and grab my thighs. My eyes widen in shock and my face turns red.

'Not the time nor the place, Y/n.' I'm soon snapped out of it as my body thuds on the roof. Adjusting myself back on my feet, Micah, Lenny and Dutch are climbing up.

Dutch: "Arthur...We lost John." Arthur rushes over to Dutch.

Arthur: "Killed?"

Dutch: "Arrested...I couldn't help." Arthur throws his hands up as some of us peer over the ledge to see the policeman scattering. Whistles blowing and hooves pounding as they shout to search the area.

Arthur: "Well, we better go, or we're next."

Dutch: "Whatcha think?"

Arthur: "I reckon, Lenny, Y/n and I try to find a way across the roof's if you'll cover us?" Arthur suggests.

Dutch: "Sure." Lenny and I stand and make our way behind Arthur.

'I have to be careful or Lenny will die too.'

Arthur: "You okay?"He asks me, adjusting the bag of money on his shoulder and grabbing my arm.

Y/n: "Yeah." I shake my head, he asks the same to Lenny before we all agree we are okay enough to proceed. Gripping the handle of my revolver, Lenny hops up the ledge connecting to the roof of another building, me hot on his tail and Arthur walking behind us, we wait until Arthur hops up the ledge.

Once he does Lenny takes off again. 

Lenny: "We can get across here!" He shouts running without looking ahead, in that moment the door ahead swings wide open. Time feels as if it slows and I run as fast as my legs can muster.

Arthur: "Lenny! Y/n!" Tackling Lenny as hard as I can, I use my body as a shield as I squeeze him as hard as I can, bracing for any bullet that may hit, we hit the ground. I hear 2 guns fire from behind and in front of us.

Then, I hear 2 bodies drop. I hear Arthur rush towards us and kneel down to our level.

Lenny: "You okay, Y/n!?" I peak my head up in shock as tears begin to well in my eyes, I let go of Lenny so he can stand up, that's when the rest of the gang come behind us.

Dutch: "We gotta go!" He says stopping for a brief moment and continuing on. I go to push myself off the ground only to be met with a stinging sensation on my left side, my breath hitches and Arthur must've noticed as he was taking off his jacket and ripping it before tying it around my waist.

Arthur: "Come on, girl. You got this." He hoists me up by grabbing my arm and putting it around his shoulder, Charles came to my other side and did the same as well. They were practically carrying me as I winced and panted in pain. We reach the end of the roof, Micah, Dutch, Lenny, Javier, and Bill were on the other side.

Charles: "Were gonna have to jump." He says, letting go of the half of me he was holding onto he takes the jump. I pull my arm off of Arthur and lean against the side trying to calm down and limit my breathing.

Arthur: "We gotta go."

Y/n: "I know, you go first...and catch me.." I breathe as he gives me an annoyed look.

Y/n: "Don't start with me, Arthur. Just go." I plead and he takes his leap, with that I push off the side and swallow thickly before it's my turn. Arthur and Charles on the other side with there arms stretched out just in case I don't stretch out far enough.

'Thank you.'

With a small smirk, I take a leap and stretch as far as I need to, powering through the pain, there hands grip mine and pull me into them. Wrapping my arms around them we all crouch.

Dutch: "You doin okay, Y/n?"

Y/n: "Never better...Dutch.." I pant.

Dutch: "You're in good hands. All of you we gotta keep quiet and keep moving or we'll all be dead in the next few minutes."

Dutch: "Keep, low and follow me, 1 at a time. Arthur you go behind me." I could see Arthur's glare and his displeasure from the order he was given. I take my arm back from both him and Charles.

'This is gonna hurt, but I can't be the reason we all get killed.'

Arthur and Charles give me questioning looks.

Y/n: "I'll be fine, we need to play this smart. Now go." With that Arthur places a quick kiss to my temple and takes off after Dutch, and slowly the rest follow. Charles was right behind me, giving me boosts where it was needed and practically dragging me. Beads of sweat were coming down my face and I could feel the blood ooze from my body the more I moved. I was becoming weak...

We finally come across the abandoned building with the boarded windows. My throat was dry and I felt like I couldn't get enough air in my lungs, I could feel the sweat drip from my face as we approached, I could feel the adrenaline completely dissipate and nothing but dread fill me. Climbing through weakly Arthur and Charles maneuvered me through as gently as they could. I Plopped myself on the ground and undid the knot Arthur did on my wound. Arthur, Charles and Javier were by my side. I toned what speech Dutch said out as my ears were filled with my own thoughts and how I was gonna clean this.

Y/n: "Anyone have whiskey or a tonic...Perhaps both." I chuckle. Micah hands me a bottle of whiskey but not before taking a swig himself, I nod to him as I take it graciously, I unbutton the shirt I was wearing and hand it to Arthur.

Y/n: "Cut it into strips, love." Charles takes off his coat and places it at his side as Javier pulls out a tonic and takes a piece of his own shirt and drenching it in the tonic. I take it from him and place it gently on the wound. The stinging sensation from it sterilizing the wound, makes tears fall from my eyes as I try to look at anything else but them right now. I take deep breaths and Javier pets my hair and tells me 'I'm doing great.' Those words mean so much right now, Charles places his hands over mine and gently removes the rag to look at the wound.

Charles: "It did take a nice chunk, but if we can keep the wound sterile until we get back to camp to cauterize it you should be fine."

'Thank god, because I didn't want to take a trip to Guarma.' I chuckle to myself.

Charles pulls out a salve as Arthur has the strips in hand. He doesn't look at me. In fact his face looks rough and stern and his eyes red.

'Please don't think this is your fault.' Charles places the ointment on my wound and it soon begins to feel numb. I take another swig of the whiskey Micah gave me as Arthur wraps the cloth around the wound. For the first time today it feels like I can breathe. Arthur sits beside me and rests his head against the wall with a deep sigh. I place my hand on his to grab his attention which works. I give him a smile.

Y/n: "We'll be okay."

Arthur: "I sure hope so." He gives my hand a squeeze as he gives me a half smile, I lean my head against his shoulder and slowly doze off.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Nightfall comes to disturb my slumber as Arthur nudges me awake. Glancing around I see everyone is lining up and gathering there things to leave. Arthur stands once he sees that I am up and offers his hand. I take it and as I stand with ease I take a sigh of relief. He gives me a questioning look before I wave him off telling him I'm okay.

We all creep down the stairs of the abandoned building following Dutch's lead. All of us on guard as we crouch and scatter through the streets towards the docks. We take cover behind the train as we notice Pinkerton's patrolling about. Slowly 1 at a time we all make out way onto the train, Charles behind me, must be afraid of me falling or something.

Dutch: "Someone's coming, duck!" He whisper shouts, I was barely paying attention and almost lost my footing , I turn on my other foot and place my back behind the seat but before I cause too much noise, Charles grabs my thigh and pushes me tighter against the seat. I hold my breath as I hear the man approach the train's walkway. My face flushes a hot red from Charles' face being so close to mine, he slowly leans in. I turn my head away and he rests his on my shoulder.

Once we hear that the coast is clear he gently and slowly puts my leg back down before continuing through the train.

We soon find ourselves crouched behind a building waiting for clearance.

Dutch: "Arthur, head over to the water. See if you can draw them out."

Arthur: "What am I supposed to do?"

Dutch: "Whistle of something." I lightly giggle from there small interaction. Arthur soon walks down to the boats and causes a small distraction to get the guards attention to wander over there. We all stay crouched and weave around the guards as quietly as possible. Successful in our attempt we make it to the side of the dock where there's a boat, but 4 men guarding it. Crouched down but peaking over to look at the situation for some sort of plan. I creep up beside Arthur as they bicker about a plan.

Y/n: "I don't know about you but I'm no fan of boat rides. So, how about Charles, Lenny and I get there attention so you guys can board the boat."

Dutch: "How do you mean?"

Y/n: "Don't worry about it. Just get ready to run."With that, I can feel the adrenaline rush through my veins. I take Arthur's face in my hands which caught him by surprise, because his eyes were wide and his cheeks were a bright pink as my lips connected to his. He didn't even try to fight for dominance he just let me explore his wet cavern which tasted like whiskey and tobacco. I reveled and smiled into the kiss, I heard some of them snicker and a light whistle. Dutch soon clears his throat as quietly as he could. I soon pull away and stand up, adjusting Charles coat so that my cleavage would show, Charles and Lenny soon follow behind me.

Y/n: "On my signal, we run. Stay close and ride hard." I walk out in front of the men and bend my upper half over, shimmying my shoulders.

Y/n: "You men sure do look bored." 1 catcalls and the other 3 begin to approach, once close enough, I pull out my pistol and whistle for my horse as does Lenny and Charles. Giving the barrel a small spin, I shoot the men that were guarding  the dock before they even suspected anything. I hear my horse's footsteps soon approach as does Lenny and Charles. We all mount up and kick off on our horses down the street. Thunder covering most of our gunshots, rain soon starts to pour as we all cover our blind spots and ride out of town.

'Please be careful.'

[asa-writes]

Dreams - 2 - Robb

18+ MINORS DNI Jon Snow x F!OC / Robb Stark x F!OC Word Count: 2.5k Masterlist with Fic Warning  Dividers by @cafekitsune

Robb stood between Lucie's Stallion and the stables, feeling the animal's power radiating off its body. It was a wild beast, unbridled and untamed, restlessly tugging at its reins and pawing at the ground anxiously; its muscles tensed up like iron springs ready to be released at any second. He'd imagined Lucie to be the same, back when she arrived, though he was surprised to find she was… well, intimidatingly distant.

It wasn’t such a surprise when his mother had taken him aside after Lucie’s arrival, telling him that she had chosen her to be his bride. After all, it did make perfect sense. She was very, very wealthy - all of her family's lands, titles and incomes were now hers, or rather, to be his, soon. She was a beauty - petite, fierce and dark - she looked like a Stark already, able to give him a lot of Stark heirs. He hadn’t objected - there were worse options for him and from the first time she had rejected him, he felt something stirring in him. He loved her strong will, her defiant nature, though he would’ve liked her to show it in other ways than rejecting him over and over, yet saying that she didn’t mind him and liked him.

"Will she be coming soon? I can’t keep on holding the beast for much longer," he grunted as the stallion strained once more, almost pushing Robb away. Jon only shrugged and pointedly looked away, a certain weirdness mixing into his stoicism.

He noticed the sudden oddness of his friend's behaviour as of late, especially when around Lucie. It was strange to Robb that two would act so close – he'd expected her to never leave Sansa's side. Though, he thought, maybe she just needed someone to replace her father, as a helping hand. Yes, that would be it, most probably.

Women sure were a confusing matter for him.

"Aye, she’s just trying to shake Theon off," Jon mumbled and mounted his horse, avoiding Robb's gaze. Robb smiled and shook his head. "Gods, he is desperate. Let us hope she can shake him off like she does everyone else."

Lucie stormed out of the Keep, her eyes ablaze as Theon scrambled to keep up with her. “My lady, if beauty were wildfire, you could set Westeros ablaze and no one would blame you! Your, uhm, hips, they are divine and I…”, Theon yapped over and over, always trying his hardest to reach for Lucie’s hand, which she pulled back, time after time.

Her feet pounded against the muddy courtyard as she strode to where her stallion waited. The breeze whipped her braids from side to side as she marched with fervent determination, pulling on her leather gloves. Robb stood nearby, a warm smile spreading across his face as he stepped forward to kiss her hand.

Lucie snatched away the reins from him, barely granting him a glance before leaping onto the horse's back. She looked down at him from atop the beast, her voice low and icy. "Lord Robb," she said in a taut voice, "what a pleasure it is."

Robb gave her an awkward smile. He wished that it would be a pleasure for her. Jon always told him how Lucie liked him, how she was looking forward to their mutual hunts and rides out, yet every time Robb spoke to her, it seemed like Lucie would rather flee across the Wall and become a wildling than give him a smile or a courteous compliment. It gnawed on him, it really did. He swung himself onto his saddle and sighed quietly, before riding out of the gate, Lucie, Jon and Theon following him closely.

As they rode deeper into the forest, Robb couldn't help but notice how Lucie's body moved with the horse's every stride. Her thighs were strong and toned, and he had to consciously stop himself from staring for too long. He wondered what it would feel like to have those legs wrapped around his waist, to feel her body pressed against his. He shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts from his mind. He knew he shouldn't be thinking such impure things about a lady, especially one as formidable as Lucie.

The group came upon a clearing, and Robb signalled for them to halt. He dismounted from his horse and gestured for Lucie to do the same. She complied, sliding off her stallion's back in one swift movement. Robb couldn't help but be impressed by her grace and skill. He walked over to her, a small smile on his lips.

"Lady Lucie, I have to say, you are quite skilled on horseback," he said, his voice soft.

Lucie's eyes flashed with a hint of something unreadable. "Thank you, Lord Robb," she replied curtly, though with the faintest hint of a smile.

Robb stepped closer to her, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her skin was soft to the touch, and he had to resist the urge to pull her close and kiss her. Instead, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "I know you do not feel the same way about me as I do about you, but Mother had told me that most couples have a rocky start. Now, I won't bother you with anything too romantic... But Jon had told me of your wish for a stronger, larger bow. I had one made for you, my Lady, carved your favourite flowers on it, too, in my spare time."

Lucie's eyes widened in surprise as Robb produced the bow from his saddlebag. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, made of dark wood and adorned with delicate carvings of her favourite wildflowers. She reached out to take it from him, her fingers brushing against his as she did. Robb could feel his heart racing in his chest as he watched her examine the bow, admiring the fine details of the carvings.

"Lord Robb, this is... it's a wonderful gift," Lucie said, her voice softening a bit. "I don't know what to say."

Robb grinned, feeling a sense of pride at having pleased her. "Just say that you'll use it well, my Lady. I'd love to see you hunt with it."

Lucie looked up at him, her eyes bright, her eyes glinting cheekily. "I promise I will, Lord Robb. Thank you. Maybe I shall be the only one with success today."

Robb felt a mix of emotions as Lucie spoke. He wanted nothing more than for her to be happy and content, but he knew that it meant sometimes holding back his own desires. He was sure that Lucie would only open up to him if he showed her loyalty and dedication, but something about the way she had interacted with Jon made Robb's heart flutter, in the worst way possible.

Was there something between them? No, he told himself, it must just be his imagination. Jon would never betray him and Lucie had never been one for physical contact, not even with Sansa or Arya - or their direwolves. But still, he couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was being too territorial. After all, they were almost engaged to be married — all they were waiting for was for Lucie to announce the start of her menses.

Robb shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as they resumed their hunt. He couldn't let himself be consumed by jealousy and insecurity. He had to focus on being the best lord and future husband he could be for Lucie.

As they rode through the forest, he watched her closely, admiring the way she handled her bow and arrow with ease and precision. A deer burst from between the shadows of the trees like a ghost, and Lucie responded in a flash. Her teeth grabbed hold of her reins as she raised her bow, drawing back an arrow with lightning quickness, all while expertly manoeuvring her horse with her thighs like a Dothraki trained warrior.

Robb watched in awe as she released the arrow, and it shot through the air with deadly accuracy, finding its mark in the heart of the deer. The animal fell to the ground with a heavy thump as Lucie grinned victoriously, turning to Jon with an expectant expression on her face.

"See? I told you I could do it! And since you didn't believe me, you owe me a honeyed cake," she said teasingly, and Jon rolled his eyes playfully before hopping down from his horse to help Theon tie up the legs of the deer so they could carry it back home. Honeyed Cake? They liked the same sweets, he noted to himself. That might be a useful way to get to her. Though the bow seemed to make her happy as well. His mind whirred, trying to think of every possible scenario to try and convince Lucie into spending time with him.

Robb slowly guided his horse towards her, captivated by her effortless display of skill. His admiration for her was growing stronger with each passing second. "Your accuracy is unparalleled, my Lady," he noted with genuine awe and respect. Not only that, but the precision with which she ended the life of her victim must have taken years of knowledge and dedication to perfect.

There was no doubt in Robb's mind that she was an expert at what she did - a true huntress.

Lucie looked up at him, her dark eyes sparkling, though there was still no smile on her small, round face. "Thank you, Lord Robb. I owe it all to your wonderful gift."

"I'm glad that you like it," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up, trying his hardest not to grin like a fool. "But I have another gift for you, if you'll allow me."

Lucie raised an eyebrow, her voice somewhere between gratitude and mockery. "Another gift? Lord Robb, you flatter me too much. Would you wish to give me a docile, fat pony again?"

Behind them, tying up the deer, Theon barked with laughter and Jon shook his head, trying to hide his grin.

Robb chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I think you'll like this gift much more. It's something that I think you'll truly appreciate." He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small, intricately carved wooden box. He handed it to her, watching as she opened it slowly. Inside the box was a necklace, a fine chain of silver with a small pendant crafted in the shape of a wolf's head. The eyes of the wolf were two sparkling rubies that shone in the sunlight.

Lucie gasped, her wide eyes locked onto him, her mouth opening and closing as if she struggled to find the right words. "Lord Robb, it's beautiful, but... I... um..." she mumbled, gently patting her horse's neck as it nervously neighed. The beast truly is formidable, he thought, observing its nervous whinnies beneath her. He wouldn't be surprised if it had taken the lives of men with its strong hooves.

Robb smiled at her, watching as she lifted the necklace out of the box and put it on. "I'm glad you like it, my Lady. It's a traditional Stark family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. I thought it would look lovely on you, my bride to be." Lucie bowed her head, her lips a thin line. "I am deeply thankful, Lord Robb," she said in a measured tone, putting it on. There was nothing in her expression, no emotion to be seen.

Nevertheless, Robb remained undeterred. He felt a surge of determination at her words, resolved to demonstrate to Lucie that he was the most suitable and singular individual capable of providing her with the life she deserved. However, he was fully aware that it would require considerable time and unwavering effort to inspire in her the same depth of affection that he felt for her. It was his greatest desire - one he begged the gods to grant: Please, let Lucie fall madly in love with me.

Lucie rode away from him, whispering something to Jon, who gave Robb a pained, yet encouraging smile as Lucie galloped into Winterfell, away from them all.

“Do you think that it was too soon?” Robb nervously asked his brother, keeping his eyes on Lucie’s figure, her cape and hair billowing behind her as she rode away from them. It did seem that even though she had thanked him, she tried to escape him, almost as if the thought of being his future wife disgusted her.

Jon, holding the deer in place, shrugged slightly, panting lightly. “I don’t know, Robb. She doesn’t hate you, that much I’m sure of.”

“She hates everyone, Snow, she’s an icicle,” Theon said with a grin. “Though I suppose it is nice to be cooled down once in a while.”

Robb gave him an annoyed look. “I know for a fact she doesn’t like you, Greyjoy. If you continue trying to charm her, I think she’ll strike you.”

To that, Jon laughed boisterously. Robb shifted in his saddle and tried his best to look into the courtyard, yet couldn’t see her anymore, she must’ve run back to her chambers, to change into her proper evening attire.

He surely wouldn’t have liked her if she wouldn’t have rebuffed Theon but then again, she had rebuffed him as well, he thought, nervously chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Did she turn you away as well, Jon?”, Robb asked, his voice wavering slightly, his chest tightening.

He saw Jon frowning, the edges of his mouth twitching. They passed over the drawbridge and came to a halt in the courtyard, some servant grabbing the deer and heaving it over to the kitchens. They dismounted, Robb and Theon giving Jon their horses to brush and take care of.

Robb gave Jon a dark look, grabbing his shoulder. “Jon, please tell me she turned you down as well.” He really liked Jon, he did, though if he had the gall to charm Lucie and not tell him about it, he’d punch him without hesitation.

Jon gave him a bashful look. “I never… I never approached her that way, so she never had to turn me down. I swear, Robb, she’s like a little sister to me, like Arya.”

Robb examined him from head to toe, then offered a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I appreciate your understanding. Please, share with me... What does she confide in you? Does she hold any regard for me?" His gaze shifted to the Keep, where his mother was likely observing them from above. “I want to… make her feel like she has a choice, before Mother comes and… tells her. I know that it has already been decided, but…,” his voice trailed off. He knew they would marry one way or the other, but he’d rather her with a smile on her face rather than having her dragged to the weirwood.

Jon guided their mounts into the stables, grabbing a brush, avoiding Robb's gaze. “She confides nothing interesting and yes, she does hold a great regard for you. It’s the honorable thing to do. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you.”

Robb huffed and looked at the guest lodgings, his legs itching to go and walk over to Lucie, yet he knew that wouldn’t be proper. There had to be a way to get to know her, not as Lady Lucie Templeton, but as Lucie, his betrothed. Lucie, his future wife. The strong, willful, huntress that gave competitive smirks. He had to act soon.

[paradoxolotl]

I don’t have names for my OCs so I used andreil instead

~~

The beast’s ribs below Andrew heave with each great breath, echoing in his own chest. There is a wild sort of joy thrumming in his blood, electric and turning the air sweet. He can still feel the wind tugging at him, feel every twitch of muscle and the power it holds. Closing his eyes, he turns his face to the sun and can’t stop the call that falls from his mouth. If this was freedom, Andrew never wanted to know differently.

“Having fun?”

Still breathing hard, he looks to find Neil before him, a hand gripping the leather by the dragon’s maw and the other riding the beat of its heart. He looks more alive than Andrew is used to seeing him, eyes clear and a small smile pulling at his mouth. Neil had always been beautiful in a tragic sort of way, but now the sight of him was near painful. Andrew wonders about the ghost of a dimple he could see in Neil’s cheek, the spark of life in his eye.

He smiles in return, watching Neil’s face change at his own rarity. “Why doesn’t everyone ride these?”

Neil snorts, letting the beast knock its head against his chest, its spines quivering. “Not everyone can. Veeltri are notoriously difficult to ride, used more as a display of wealth than anything else. But you,” Neil moves until his chest is pressed against Andrew’s calf, head tilted back and that strange expression back on his face as he holds Andrew with his eyes alone. “It is as if you were born to ride them.”

There’s no words Andrew could say to him, his heart hammering and his cheeks flushed.

Then Neil blinks, and that dangerous devil grin appears again. In a breath, he swung himself up into the saddle behind Andrew, his body flush and hot against Andrew’s back. His arms snake around to grip the reins, and Andrew can feel how the beast seems to shiver in anticipation. He thinks his own body might have done the same.

Neil’s voice is low in his ear, and Andrew swallows against the urge to turn his face into it. “You may be a natural, Joseph,” Neil says, “but let me show you how to really ride.”

The wind brushes over him, and his heart beats freedom freedom home.

~~

“You should be afraid of me,” Neil says, eyes blazing. Andrew wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“I’ve never felt safer than with you.” The words fell before he could stop them, cracking through them both.

Neil’s face twists, his next inhale sharp. “Don’t say that,” he says, starting to pull away. Andrew latches onto his shirt before he could disappear, holding him close. “Don’t say that to me, Doe.”

“Why not?” Andrew challenges. “You asked me for truth, and this is mine. Everywhere I’ve been, after everything I’ve seen, in both worlds, I have never felt as safe, as at home, as I do by your side.”

Neil doesn’t fight when Andrew tugs him ever closer, warm against him and head bowed. His bangs brush Andrew’s skin, feather light, as he shakes his head. Caged between him and the rough brick of the wall, Andrew grips tight to the last of his bravery.

“I want to kiss you.”

Neil closes his eyes, and ever so carefully, he lays a hand over Andrew’s mouth, as if blocking any more words from spilling free. “Stop,” he whispers, only audible by their proximity. “I’m begging you, Doe, don’t say this to me.”

~~

“Just wait,” Neil says, pushing Andrew deeper into the dirt. “We’ll figure it out, Doe. I just need you to wait.”

Andrew shoves Neil off of him, rolling them until he is straddling the witch, an arm braced across his chest. “I’m done waiting,” he seethes. “You might be able to sit around and do nothing but pity yourself for some tragic shit in your past, but I won’t. I’m sick of feeling like a pawn.”

Tearing himself away, Andrew starts making his way back to the ruins. Ancient god or demon be damned. He was so close; he could feel the answers brushing against him, always just out of reach.

Fingers catch in his sleeve, pulling him back. “Stop,” Neil begs. “You can’t go back.”

“You don’t control me,” Andrew snaps, yanking his arm out of Neil’s grip. “Stop trying to.”

“I can’t lose you,” Neil says, near frantic. “Not- I just can’t, Doe.”

Andrew stares at him, everything in him a swirling mass too vicious for him to understand. “You don’t even know me,” he says, taking another step back. “I am no one to you.”

Neil shakes his head. “I know you. I know I do.” He reaches a hand out, an offering. “Stay. We’ll figure it out.”

~~

Carefully, Neil takes the knife from Andrew’s hand, fingers running along the edge hard enough it should have cut his flesh. But there was no blood, no scarlet on his skin. Only pale blue eyes far away.

“This was made for a king,” Neil says quietly, fingers closing around the handle tightly. He doesn’t look at Andrew when he says, “And you are no king.”

“Neil-“

“NO!” The sudden violence in Neil’s voice pushes Andrew back a step, eyes widening at the rage in Neil’s body, the anger and sorrow and loss he looks at Andrew with. “I gave up everything. Do you understand that? Fucking everything I had! And for what?” His arms go wide, his laugh sharp and mad. “You? Who are you, Doe? To take all that I have and burn it before me?”

“I didn’t-“ Andrew tries, desperately trying to lessen the chasm he can feel growing between them.

“You don’t listen,” Neil cuts him off, voice cold. “I told you, I begged you, and you didn’t listen! If you had just-“ his breath hitches, eyes screwing shut. “If you had listened to me, you wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be here.” When he looks at Andrew again, there is none of the man Andrew had come to know. He was someone different, cold and hard and unfamiliar. “You never should have come through the Veil.”

Silence covers the group, and Andrew knows they were watching him. But he can’t move, his entire body numb and breaking.

Moments pass on, and Neil only shakes his head. “We’ll camp here for the night and travel in the morning.”

No one bothers to argue.

Andrew doesn’t sleep.

~~

“How are you, Doe?” There’s weight behind the words, but she says it so it feels like nothing. Light and fleeting, like the whisper of her gown along the grass.

He blinks, and they’re already in the rose garden. Or perhaps they had been there for a while. He’s still not sure what’s real. If everything around him is just another trick, a game to see if this is what will break him.

But the monsters don’t know he’s already broken.

“Would you like a plum?”

And he blinks, and there’s purple being offered to him. He reaches out to take it, surprised to find his skin doesn’t match. The fruit was warm and smooth in his palm.

“You’re not meant to eat Fae food,” he says, and it comes out rough and quiet.

“No,” she agrees. “But I am not Fae, and you are in my garden.”

He swipes his thumb over the skin, feeling how ripe it is. He’s hungry. Hollow. He gives it back to her, relieved when she takes it easily.

“I ache,” he says. He blinks, and for once they haven’t moved. “He left me. After the Wildlands. Put me where I couldn’t follow.” And that still, after everything, hurts the worst of all. He looks up at the queen, finding strength in her. “How long has it been on this side?”

Perhaps a flash of sorrow flits across her face, but Andrew isn’t sure what’s real anymore. They had pretended to be sad too, before they laughed and made it hurt again. They had played too many tricks on him.

“I haven’t seen Neil in many years,” she says. “Not since you were here together last.”

“Oh.” Things feel purple again, and he curls his fingers to remind himself they are not broken.

His shadow moves when he blinks next. It’s colder again.

The queen turns back, out of the garden, slowly enough for Andrew to follow. “I sent word to him when I found you,” she tells him as they walk. “I do not think he knows you are back home.”

“I don’t have a home.”

She frowns at this, but it drips in blue. The castle steps are cold under his feet, even through his shoes. “Rest, Doe. Things will seem lighter in the morning.”

“You said that yesterday,” he says, but it’s dull and drops like stones between them. She smiles at him, like she knows something he doesn’t, which is more true than not, so he says nothing else before turning and walking away.

[gerec]

AU-gust 2023

11. Doppelganger

Pairing(s): Erik/Other, implied past Erik/Shaw Warnings: Shaw's existence

He’s been in New York before, in this particular club, chasing a lead on Shaw that had turned out to be an unfortunate dead end. With no way to vent his anger and frustration – at least one that didn’t involve destroying public property – he’d let a man pick him up and take him to the bathroom, and fuck him in one of the stalls.

It had made things marginally better, even if the sex was less than satisfactory and over too soon.

Tonight, he’s feeling the same need, an itch under his skin that demands Erik’s attention. It’s also a little different from the last time, since he’s just killed a man; a guard from the camp he’d stumbled over while chasing a new lead. He put up just enough of a fight to get Erik’s adrenaline pumping, and he knows he won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t burn away the edges.

He takes a sip of his beer, and casts his eyes across the room.

Instinctively, he’s drawn to a man seated at a booth, far enough away that Erik can’t really make out his features. At first glance, there’s nothing particularly remarkable about this stranger – not his medium build and brown hair and well-made suit – except there’s a familiarity to his profile that puts Erik on high alert.   

Then the man turns and Erik jumps to his feet, closing the distance in seconds and using his power to take a hold of all the metal within reach---

Except that the man he was so sure was Shaw looks up in surprise, without a hint of recognition, radiating confusion as Erik looms menacingly overhead. Up close, he can see that the stranger’s eyes are brown and not blue, and that the shape of his nose is slightly different from Shaw’s. The resemblance is close enough that he could be a forgotten twin; enough that Erik has to forcibly rein in his impulse to drive a knife through his chest.

Instead, he mumbles a clumsy apology and returns to his seat at the bar.

The encounter throws his emotions completely off kilter, and he switches from beer to scotch, downing one and then another in rapid succession. He can’t think of anything now but Sebastian Shaw, everything else subsumed by the rage roiling in his blood. It feels like a failure somehow, like he missed his chance, even if he knows rationally that this stranger is not Herr Doktor. He knows that, and yet the frustration only builds, until he’s drowning in alcohol and rage and slowly losing his mind…

Outside, he stops and takes a breath of fresh air, grounding himself with a hand on the metal lamp post.

“Are you alright?”

He turns and comes face to face with the stranger, who sounds absolutely nothing like Shaw. There’s a midwestern accent there and he’s wearing a concerned look on his face, and Erik would laugh if he hadn’t almost killed this man over a mistaken identity.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” The man hesitates, before stepping closer to Erik and grasping his wrist. Maybe Erik is still in shock – or he’s too drunk – because he doesn’t pull away, staring dumbly as the stranger smiles at him and says, “Do you…maybe want to come back to my hotel with me for a drink?”

He doesn’t understand what’s being said until it suddenly does become clear, and Erik’s heart starts beating so quickly it feels like it’s going to burst from his chest---

“I…Yes.”

The stranger smiles and offers his hand to shake. “I’m Samuel.”

“Samuel,” Erik says, his mind racing over the possibilities of what he might do – how it might feel to be the one in control - with a man wearing Shaw’s face. “Lead the way.”

[rk-stateoftheart]

What is Richard's take on Kamski?

Richard finds him an interesting and intriguing figure.

As something, or rather someone, who was initially built to solve problems - some bigger than the others, sometimes even impossible things - he is naturally drawn to an eccentric and enigmatic man that is Kamski. It is needless to say that he has seen all the interviews that have been conducted with the man. Truthfully, part of him wants to thank Elijah for starting and establishing the android revolution, although this is a meaning he'd use as a double edged sword: the first type of revolution is something he'd regard as essentially creating a form that resembles a man; second type of revolution is making a thing so similar to a man that it was impossible for them to not gain self consciousness aka become a deviant.

He is also aware of Elijah's manipulating tactics when it comes to Connor, but again, it is not something he necessarily blames him for. This is where Richard sees similarities between himself and the creator: they're driven by curiosity and the need to solve a problem. If there are none, they'll make some. Elijah simply takes pleasure in mind games and anything else that will keep him active while the other person writhes beneath his scrutiny.

Richard doesn't necessarily know where this might end (Kamski's problem creation-solution), but he is certainly interested to see. Again, he is intrigued by that mind of his. It is sometimes easy to understand and at the same time the "Man of the Century" can weave a whole new outcome after he's done feeding some crumbs to anyone that listens.

There's a part of him that also understands why Elijah decided to seclude himself. People fear what they can not understand. Kamski used to be revered and equally feared/hated for his genius (no doubt some people even predicted the development of an android revolution because why wouldn't that happen? people have always protested against their lack of comfort and freedom, why would a being, constructed after them, be any different? At the end of the day, wires are not that much different from neural transmitters functioning in a biological body) and now, with the androids roaming free and possessing independent thought, people look up to him to seek guidance but all it comes down to is their inability to let go of their own comfort zone and embrace the changing world. Kamski represents deism and pandeism in their modern world. No human can reach up to him and now the androids are left with their own devices. Most humans are boring in their predictability and repetitive patterns and Richard can relate to that. Even some androids follow the very same suit even if most claim to be unique and independent.

They most likely share a good dose of healthy ego, perhaps even too healthy, but there is no one else besides his own creator that can knock the RK900 down a notch and remind him who holds the reins. While the thought should be frightening, Richard is a little bit excited by that too.

And, finally, he is curious and holds his utmost respect towards the man. Should they meet, he does not expect to agree with everything Elijah says. He might not even be able to comprehend what a man like him might mean if he speaks in metaphors, but again: the RK series were created to solve all impossible riddles.

To conclude, no matter the outcome, Richard would want to meet this man in person.

[ovid-daily]

Be sure to tune in to the Metamorphoses tomorrow for:

Phaëton's terrifying chariot-ride through the sky's strange figures of huge and savage beasts

   Quod simulac sensere, ruunt tritumque relinquunt

quadriiugi spatium nec quo prius ordine currunt.

ipse pavet nec qua commissas flectat habenas

nec scit qua sit iter, nec, si sciat, imperet illis.               170

tum primum radiis gelidi caluere Triones

et vetito frustra temptarunt aequore tingui,

quaeque polo posita est glaciali proxima Serpens,

frigore pigra prius nec formidabilis ulli,

incaluit sumpsitque novas fervoribus iras;               175

te quoque turbatum memorant fugisse, Boote,

quamvis tardus eras et te tua plaustra tenebant.

...

et modo, quos illi fatum contingere non est,

prospicit occasus, interdum respicit ortus,               190

quidque agat ignarus stupet et nec frena remittit

nec retinere valet nec nomina novit equorum.

sparsa quoque in vario passim miracula caelo

vastarumque videt trepidus simulacra ferarum.

est locus, in geminos ubi bracchia concavat arcus                195

Scorpius et cauda flexisque utrimque lacertis

porrigit in spatium signorum membra duorum:

hunc puer ut nigri madidum sudore veneni

vulnera curvata minitantem cuspide vidit,

mentis inops gelida formidine lora remisit.               200

"The team run wild and leave the well-beaten track, and fare no longer in the same course as before. The driver is panic-stricken. He knows not how to handle the reins entrusted to him, nor where the road is; nor, if he did know, would he be able to control the steeds. Then for the first time the cold Bears grew hot with the rays of the sun, and tried, though all in vain, to plunge into the forbidden sea. And the Serpent, which lies nearest the icy pole, ever before harmless because sluggish with the cold, now grew hot, and conceived great frenzy from that fire. They say that you also, Boötes, fled in terror, slow though you were, and held back by your clumsy ox-cart...And now he looks forward to the west, which he is destined never to reach, and at times back to the east. Dazed, he knows not what to do; he neither lets go the reins nor can he hold them, and he does not even know the horses’ names. To add to his panic fear, he sees scattered everywhere in the sky strange figures of huge and savage beasts. There is one place where the Scorpion bends out his arms into two bows; and with tail and arms stretching out on both sides, he spreads over the space of two signs. When the boy sees this creature reeking with black poisonous sweat, and threatening to sting him with his curving tail, bereft of wits from chilling fear, down he dropped the reins." (Transl. Miller, 1915)

[knowingoverseer]

==>

You can’t help but snerk, watching Buddy once again duck out from under the frustrated centaur’s grasp, squawking “NO!” and cackling like a madman. They’ve been at this for an hour now, and the discomfort you originally felt at how often Buddy was protesting had ebbed into amusement because this wasn’t going to work and it was just a matter of time before this charade ended. 

You sit in a corner with the town’s leatherworker, the Gnome you’d met out in the forest, Teddy. He’s been trying to come up with a saddle and rein set up for Buddy for the past two weeks, and he finally had some product made to try. In the weeks prior there had been an attempt to saddle him like a horse, only for that to go extremely unwell. A bridle was all but impossible, not just because Buddy was not a horse, but his beak was sharp as blades and he would NOT be silenced, let alone jerked around. For now, a neck harness seemed to be the best idea, but getting it around his neck was proving extra difficult, the beast was just too flexible. And stubborn, boy was he stubborn. The centaur, Rederick, was the town’s tanner and one of the local rangers, as well as Teddy’s business partner and husband. He was the one trying to get Buddy into the harness because he was the only one large enough to do so, though he kept shooting you dirty looks. In all fairness, Buddy was your responsibility and you were just sitting here laughing at the spectacle, but it was kind of nice to be around townies who weren't all smiles 100% of the time. Though… It wasn’t like Teddy and Rederick weren't attempting to be amicable, despite their frustration. And again, they weren't charging you for this. Not that you expect them to, not with this, no. You don’t want to put anything on your Porcuparrot companion, he doesn’t want that. But people have been concerned, especially with the festival coming up, of how you planned to keep him under control… So, you let Mr. Huckleberry talk you into agreeing to let these two lovely craftsmen find something that would work, even if it was just for show. But Teddy was personally insulted at the idea of not being able to figure out something that could practically and comfortably work over Buddy’s dense coat of quills, so here you were. “NO! No no no!” Once again Buddy managed to wiggle out of the centaur’s reach, a blanket falling off his back that was supposed to sit between his quills and the leather seat. He kept laughing in an almost vicious manner, a laugh he picked up in the Bewitching Forest. It definitely wasn’t settling great on the locals, but you thought it kind of suited him, very mischievous. And honestly, it just showed he was thinking of this whole ordeal as a game. If he wasn’t, his quills would be raised and ready to strike- err, defend? “Miss will you PLEASE just come over here and hold your bird for like, two minutes, this is ridiculous!” Rederick snapped, stomping one of his back hooves, and you had to hold back a snort as Buddy started repeating, “Ridiculous!” instead of no. But you comply, of course, and Buddy does not settle down just because you’ve joined the game. This was getting nowhere fast, but maybe if he could find a rein harness he actually liked, exploration might be a little more workable.

[chrisbannor]

Elements of Change

Chapter Eleven: Deliveries

Author: Chris Bannor

When they arrived at the village there was no sign of Jaroh and the players, nor of a jailor willing to keep two elementalist under lock and key until someone could come for them. They spent the night, then headed towards Pramas, a large city to the north. The trip was uneventful.

So were the conversations.

Whatever camaraderie had grown between Ezo and Kammon was muted now. Since Ezo’s words about healing, Kammon was distant and kept to himself. They took turns driving the wagon or walking beside it. They ate their meals in silence. Ezo would take pleasure in the fact that Ember had flown at his side and landed next to him multiple times, but Kammon scowled whenever it happened.

They reached the city in the late morning.

“How big is this place?” Ezo asked as he stared up at the enclosed city.

“Not as big as they pretend it is.” Kammon pointed to the wall. “Pramas wanted to be one of the greater cities of Distria, but it never realized its ambitions. They built the wall around Pramas, but it isn’t near the borders. There was never any chance of enemy attacks. It became a center for trade, but it could never rival the central markets. The people here don’t seem to know that though,” he warned.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Pretentious, and quick to anger. But no more dangerous than any other.” Kammon jumped onto the wagon seat and took the reins from Ezo.  “Just stay close.”

The walls were twelve feet high, but there was no one manning them. They drove through and no one questioned what they wanted or why they were there. Kammon seemed to know where he was headed because he drove the wagon without hesitation, until he finally pulled it to a stop in front of a plain stone building. Ezo waited with the wagon as Kammon went inside. He wasn’t gone long before he came out with three men. They didn’t say anything to Ezo, but he heard them open the back of the wagon. They carried one of the raiders in and two other men came out to carry the last one. When Kammon joined him back at the front of the wagon he took the reins again and pulled away from the building.

“That’s a job well done. Now we should be able to find a decent bed for tonight and some good food. Tomorrow we’ll head out to find your friends.”

It was the most Kammon had said to him in two days. Ezo wanted to ask what had changed the man’s humors, but it wasn’t the time. “How do you know they aren’t here?” Ezo asked.

“The jailors hadn’t heard of them. If they were in the city they would have known. We can ask around today though, once we find a place to stable this monstrosity,” he said with an affectionate pat to the wagon.

They found a tavern with a stable that would hold the wagon and Kammon paid for two rooms. Once they had set their belongings down, they went down to the main room to find food. Lunch was roast beef and peas with a fresh loaf of bread. The cheese was too mild for his tastes, but the ale was good. As much as Ezo wanted to ask Kammon about the city and what their next step was, he was aware of the eyes of the other patrons upon them.

“Don’t mind them,” Kammon said without looking up from his plate.  “They know who I am. What I am.”

“A good man?”

Kammon looked up at that with a snort. “A danger.”

There was something in Kammon’s voice that Ezo didn’t like. Resignation. Like he had grown so accustomed to people’s unfounded fears that he had just accepted them. “And what does that make me?”

“Stupid. Ignorant. A thrill seeker or maybe a braggart.”

“Just shows they don’t know a thing. I guess I won’t pay attention to what they think they know, after all.”

Kammon watched him for a moment longer before he lowered his head and returned to his food. There was a small quirk at the corner of his lips though and Ezo decided to take that as a win.

They were just finishing up their meal when three men came into the common room of the tavern. They were dressed in fine cloth even if it was plainly worn. Probably some noble’s retainers. He ignored them as he finished the last of his ale. When he looked at Kammon the man was scowling at something over Ezo’s shoulder. When he looked back, the retainers were looking at him and coming his way.

“Good sirs,” the man said as he reached their table. “The eques requests the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening.”

“Why would he want that?” Ezo asked.

Kammon kicked him hard under the table and Ezo yelped, but the retainers didn’t seem to notice as Kammon stood up and spoke. “We are honored by the request and humbly accept.” He gave a slight bow that Ezo thought was really too much, but the retainer smiled before he handed a letter to Kammon. He walked out then, with the two silent retainers trailing behind him.

“Why’d you kick me?”

“Did Jacob teach you anything about the world?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he opened the letter. “We are in a fortified city. When the eques requests your attendance, it is a politely worded order. But still an order.”

Ezo rolled his eyes as he leaned forward to see what the letter said.  Kammon shook his head and tossed it to Ezo. “It appears the eques is looking for elementalists to put on retainer.”

“I thought they didn’t like you?”

Kammon gave him a sharp smile, but there was nothing warm or friendly about it. “They don’t, but if they can put me on their leash, then everyone will fear them.”

“You know the eques?”

“He is eques by birthright. Unlike the elder generation or some of his more honorable contemporaries who earned the title through war and battle, he has lived his life safely surrounded by these walls without a day in the trenches.”

“You don’t seem to like the eques very much either.”

“I came to Pramas soon after I became Disavowed. The nobles spread the word quickly. My skill set, untethered from the military ranks, made them nervous.” He took a long drink from his ale and dropped the mug onto the table. “And I was not in the mood to make anyone comfortable when I arrived here.”

“Then why are we going to this dinner tonight? You don’t think they’d try to keep us against our will?”

Kammon leaned forward and a smile - a truly mischievous smile - appeared on his face. “Do you really think these walls, even with his best men, could keep you and I out if we combined strength?”

Ezo thought of what he could do to that wall on his own, and what they could do if they were bound at the moment, and he smiled back at Kammon. “No, I’m not sure there is any wall in Distria that could.”

Kammon nodded as he sat back. “So we’ll go have some very fine food, be entertained by the eques, and see what he has to offer.”

“Is there anything that he could offer, that would make you stay?” Ezo asked.

“No, but I don’t think they’ll be making a true offer to me. If I had come alone, I doubt they would have reached out at all. It will be you that they tempt.”

Ezo shook his head. “I set my mind to travel the world and I have not done near enough. I have no desire to stay behind walls.”

“Just wait to see what they have to offer you, Ezo. Many elementalists make a fine life in a place like this.”

There was no judgment in Kammon, though Ezo knew the other man would never accept such an invitation himself. “I guess it’s a good thing I came here with you then. If they make me an offer you can let me know if it’s a good one or not.”

“Is there anything they could offer you to make you stay?” Kammon repeated his question back to him.

Ezo shook his head. “No, but at least I’ll have a full belly before they realize it.”

Author's Note: Kammon seems ruffle feathers a lot. I'm interested to see what happens with the eques. Who do you think is more likely to get in trouble tonight? Kammon or Ezo?