#stronghold the moving fortress

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ STRESS RELIEF!

♰ featuring: wriothesley [genshin impact]

♰ note: i’m in heat and all i can think about is a stressed and tired wriothesley eating out his pretty gf from the back to relieve his tension.

sypnosis: get you a man who will drown in your pussy and call it “stress relief”! wc: 2.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. femme/female bodied!reader. messy pussy-eating. dominant/feral!wriothesley. marking. biting. spanking. squirting. cursing. hand-holding. groping. hair pulling. ꒷꒦

It was almost as though Wriothesley was being crushed under the constant pressure of his job as the warden within the shadowy confines of the Fortress of Meropide. The burden of his obligations bore down on him like the merciless force of the sea that imprisoned them all within the stronghold. When a problem arose or strife broke out among the prisoners, he was the one they all turned to for help. Today, on the other hand, appeared to be the day that he would be pushed to his breaking point. There was a mountain of paperwork that was piled high on top of his desk and seemed to never end; the pipes seemed to trickle and leak indefinitely, necessitating constant repair; the elevators are out of commission for maintenance, forcing everyone to use the forgotten, decrepit, and mildew-smelling stairwell; and, to top it all off, there is a 'Credit Coupon' thief swiping people's credits beneath their noses. And, not to mention, he had been so backed up with dealing with everyone else’s problems that he had already missed his afternoon tea.

Anyone near could feel the ominous aura radiating off of the iron doors of his office.

Though, amidst the chaos and tension, one beacon of solace shone through—you. His light in the darkness. The one thing keeping him sane.

Your warm smile and unwavering support were the calming forces that held the key to unlocking his cold heart. He craved the comforting words you spoke, the softness of your touch, and the calm you provided amidst the chaos of everyday life. You turned into a haven for him—a haven from the relentless pressure that felt like it would swallow him.

Which is exactly why you weren’t surprised when a guard came to you while you were aiding Sigewinne with a patient, informing you that the Duke requested your presence in his office immediately. Lunch was usually shared by the two of you, but you expected that he would be too overwhelmed with work to remember to eat, let alone take a break, given everything he has been going through. The two guards outside his office gave you a pitying glance as you got closer, understanding that things were not good. Nevertheless, they let you cross the bridge and into his office. You went in, and the first thing you saw was Wriothesley sitting on the bottom two steps, as if he were waiting for you. You noticed that his tie was unkempt, his jacket was completely abandoned, and his hair had a disheveled tousle that suggested he had either been tugging or running his hands through it for at least a while. That, and it was impossible to ignore the worn-out look in his faded hues.

But as soon as your eyes met, his worn-out expression changed to something strange but familiar—something you had seen on many sultry nights spent by yourself with him in the past. His eyes were fixed on you, freezing you in place with an indisputable lust, a carnal hunger, and a burning desire. Pushing himself up from the steps, he moved toward you with calculated, deliberate steps, each one more heavy than the last, like a beast cornering its prey, his heavy steel boots clinking against the copper floors. Soon, he was towering over you, hands twitching at his sides as though he were refraining from tearing you apart where you stood.

“You look good.” You blurted, swallowing thickly in your throat, as you were cornered against the heavy steel of his office’s door.

He chuckled, throaty and sultry, as his hand met your waist, the other one coming to rest it’s forearm above your head as he caged you between the door and his muscular frame, “Yeah?”

His casual drawl had your knees going weak, threatening to buckle beneath you while his thumb rubbed slow, salacious circles into your hip. “I think I’ve been better.”

You shrugged nonchalantly with an indifferent hum, raising your hands to trail absentminedly over his large chest that bulged through his dress shirt, finally coming to toy with his tie. “Mhm. You missed lunch today, you know.”

“Did I?” His voice was husky—deep, the subtle rumble of his baritone voice going straight to your core causing your thighs to squeeze against one another—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Wriothesley, who’s palms grew hungry on you, manuvering behind you to grope thick handfuls of your rear shamelessly. “I’ve been so swamped with work that it must’ve slipped my mind. But . . . I’m sure you understand, right, baby?” His arm that was poised above your head lowered, his partially gloved thumb stroking at the supple flesh of your cheek. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you, yeah? . . . I have an idea that will make us both happy.”

You had an idea as to what he was alluding to, but nonetheless, you nodded with a hum of agreement. This made Wriothesley smirk in response, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so that he may lean in and press a kiss to your temple.

“Turn around.”

His dominant undertone left little room for argument as you did what he asked, turning around so that you were facing the metal door of his office. Without another moment's hesitation, you felt yourself pushed against it, your body pinned against Wriothesley's heated form with your cheek smushed against the cold metal face of the door. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you felt something unmistakable grinding into your ass, all the while his sharp canines drug themselves up your neck, a silent warning to stay put.

And you did.

Hot, sloppy kisses trailed themselves down the back of your neck as greedy palms groped and squeezed at your body wherever they could reach—almost as though they were attempting to alleviate tension with every heated touch. Sensing his descent, you eventually heard him drop to his knees behind you, his gloved hands reaching up to lift your skirt and turn it over to expose your plump, pliant rear. A growl, something animalistic and ravenous, came from the back of his throat, and one of those large palms rose for a split second before slapping your right cheek, making you squeal and making Wriothesley laugh.

“Careful, Y/N.” He chided, using his palms to massage the abused flesh as an imprint of his hand—ringed fingers and all—slowly began to appear on your ass. “This door may be thick, but this chamber echos. You don’t want the guards and—Gods know who else—hearing you on the other side, do you~?”

You felt your face heat up against the frigid door’s surface, now acutely aware of the silence on the other side, which meant his guards were now undoubtedly listening. Nonetheless, you nodded, casting a shy glance over your shoulder to your lover, who was already gazing up at you with half-lidded eyes and that salacious smirk on his face that just made your knees go weak and your folds gush with arousal.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that though,” He stated nonchalantly, leaning over to press a soft kiss against your ass as sinful digits reached up to peel your already soaked panties down your thighs until they pooled at your ankles. Wriothesley groaned inwardly, his pupils blown, as he used his thumbs to spread you apart in all your glory, admiring how your folds glistened in the dim lights of the lower floor of his office. “*I can’t promise that I’ll be going easy on you either, baby.”

Without saying another word, his hands reached out and took firm hold of both your cheeks, spreading them wide before plunging straight into your dripping folds. Immediately, your knees were buckling beneath you as a pleasured mewl escaped your lips, your nails dragging against the metal surface in an attempt to find purchase. With his hands leaving your ass to wrap around the front of your thighs, his tongue was unrelenting as it ruthlessly claimed every inch of your pussy to himself, drawing you closer to him so he could continue to devour you. His tongue was hot, heavy, and drooling as it spread you wide open, encircling your clit, and slurping up whatever delicious goodness you had to offer. His nose pressed deep into your wetness, drowning in your depths, but he did not seem to care in the slightest. He wanted more—craved more—and one thing about Wriothesley was that he was a man who got what he wanted.

His tongue and ravenous lips wrapped around your tender nub and sucked away like a starving man enjoying the sweetest nectar of life, leaving you a moaning mess above him and unable to stop your hips from moving on their own as you practically fucked yourself against his face. You didn’t care if the guards—or anyone else, for that matter—heard you. All you could focus on was how his sweltering and deft mouth had you practically creaming onto his selfish brims already.

“Wrio~!” You keened, nearly losing your footing had it not been for Wriothesley keeping you firmly in place by his grip. “I-I can’t! I-It’s too much!” You whimpered just as another cry drew from your lips from a jolt of pleasure from your nethers.

In response, you felt another sharp spank rain down on your ass, and Wriothesley finally withdrew, but only so that he could snarl out, “You can and you will. Fucking take it, Y/N.” He was breathless, panting—truly, a man starved in his most primal state.

He pulled away momentarily, strings of your arousal clinging to the lower half of his face, which was glistening in your translucent juices, to turn to your inner thighs. His jaw widened before clamping down harshly on your once supple flesh, biting and sucking the blood to it’s surface to leave furious marks in his wake.

“Wriothesley!” You wept with delight and surprise at the lewd action that made your folds rub together, and you were unable to ignore the disgustingly lewd squelching sound that came from your cunt.

He repeated the same action, this time on your ass cheek, taking the pliant flesh between his teeth and delivering yet another primal bite to your soft skin, effectively marking you. “Shit, Y/N.” His heated breath wafted over your clit, making you clench around nothing as he huffed and panted like a mutt against your thigh, an action that your attentive lover obviously noticed. “The things you do to me . . .~”

Without saying anything more, he plunged back into you, even more intense than before. With his deft fingers reaching around your front and rubbing quick, merciless circles onto your clit, he was aiming at his sole target, your sopping hole. Pushing his tongue in and out of your wetness, he slurped every last drop of your sweet juices onto his tongue. He was milking you like a machine—using your clit as the trigger to release more and more of your translucent fluids onto his tongue, which he rapaciously gluped down. All the while, your toes curled in your shoes, and as every one of his hot, heavy pants exhaled through his nose, you were able to feel it against your pretty asshole.

“Wrio, wrio, baby, please! R-Right there, I-I’m gonna . .” Your hasty pleas were cut off, your hand reaching back to tangle itself into your boyfriend’s smokey locks, holding him in place as you basically rode his tongue.

You felt him chuckling against your folds before you heard him, unable to stop the sharp cry that escaped you from the sudden vibration. His hand left your clit, however, it was soon replaced with his mouth in favor of meeting your hand with his own. He pried your death grip from his locks, intertwining his fingers with your own as his head shook back and forth between your thighs. His lips suckled away at you in such an unforgiving way that it made your head spin and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Anyone within the immediate vicinity could definitely hear the unabashed slurping and squleching sounds emanating from his efforts as they reverberated through his office's chambers.

He took your hand in his and massaged calming circles around your knuckles until you finally came undone in front of him, unable to contain your overwhelming euphoria. A series of cries and mewls left your lips, leaving you breathless as your juices came flooding out of you, drenching your lover’s face and attire in a torrent, which he happily gulped down. Had it not been for his grip on your frame, you most definitely would’ve collapsed, but he held you firmly against him, even using his face to support your weight at one point like your own personal seat—because it was. After all, he was yours just as much as you were his, and he’d be damned if anything tried to change that.

His hurried movements subsided during your high, his tongue now languidly stroking your folds to carry you through your blissful daze; still, you could not control your hips from lurching each time he touched your tender, pulsating nub. Before long, he began to back off, giving you some leverage and giving himself space to finally breathe. His hot breath wafted against your behind, his chest rising and falling with each breath, finally being kind enough to himself to give him the sweet, sweet oxygen his lungs had been begging for.

Slowly, he rose from behind you, your half-lidded gaze meeting his own through the tears that formed on your lash line, which he wiped away with a swipe of his thumb.

“Y’still with me, pretty?” He whispered in a honeyed drawl, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder as the hand that was holding your own moved to your bicep to rub soothing circles along your arm.

You nodded, albeit weakly, still recovering from the mind-shattering orgasm he had just put you through.

“Y’feel better now, Wrio?”

He responded with a hearty chuckle, rolling his neck in a tantilizing way that exposed his throbbing Adam’s apple and scarred throat. His gaze met your own again, this time with a familiar spark burning behind his dusky hues, “Ahh, a’litte bit.”

He leaned over you once again, his forearm resting above your head as his chest pressed against your back. You gasped, your hips jolting as you felt his rock-hard bulge pressing against you, just barely managing to graze your sopping folds.

“Still feeling a little ‘tense’ here . . . but you’d be willing to help me out,” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. Although you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smirk beaming from his stupidly handsome face.

“Right, baby?”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you someday.

ⓒ vampiie 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[rassicas]

Information on Sockeye Station and Gone Fission Hydroplant from the Splatoon 3 artbook, translated and typeset. Pages 290-293. Haven't done a translation from the s3 artbook in a while, felt like a TL of these pages was long overdue lol Text transcription below:

Page 290

Fryers and fruits as a countermeasure against invaders who steal Golden Eggs This fortress-type settlement serves as a stronghold for the Salmonids of the Splatlands. There are many structures designed to deter and intimidate invaders, such as fried fish hung from towers to show their strength, as well as watchtowers equipped with huge guns and fryers. The most bloodthirsty of Salmonid are often assigned to this fort. Page 291 Sockeye Station This fort is characterized by its high, spiral-shaped scaffolding. At low tide, the land becomes quite wide, so even those who usually go their own way in combat are asked to team up. Right behind the fort is a stronghold built by the Salmonids, giving the area an imposing atmosphere.

Page 292

Gone Fission Hydroplant A marine power plant built to generate electricity from the rough ocean currents and tides in Splatlandian waters. When Salmonids crowd around the egg basket, they are unable to move. Especially during high tide, the area falls into chaos, and you run the risk of defeat.

Page 293 A power plant occupied by Salmonids Salmonids took over this abandoned marine power facility and remodeled it into a base. Power eggs, the source of vast amounts of energy, are refined in this facility. Between the burning hot exhaust fumes being expelled and the electrified machines scattered about, it's extremely dangerous just to get near the facility. It is said that some Salmonids are turned to meunière* inside. *meunière=cooking method of fish cooked in butter with lemon juice and parsley. JP name of the stage is Meunière Hydroplant.

[flowerandblood]

Object of Desire (Epilogue)

[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]

[ warnings: sex content, breastfeeding kink, smut, angst, domination, swearing, mention of postpartum depression ]

[ description: After a difficult childbirth and finding out what kind of man her late husband was, Aemond finally finds the strength to truly understand his wife. Their life becomes peaceful and successful until Aegon is seriously injured in battle and he is proclaimed Prince Regent. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]

Part 1 − Object of Desire Part 2 − Object of Despair Part 3 − Object of Delight

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

For as long as he could remember, the image of himself with Aegon the Conqueror's crown placed on his head had flashed through his mind. He had never thought of depriving his elder brother of the throne, but they both knew that he was better suited to the role.

However, now, as his King lay in his chamber, with burns that caused him so much pain that they made it impossible for him to move, let alone rule the kingdom, when he was proclaimed Prince Regent, the weight of the steel pressing down on his forehead and temples seemed to overwhelm him.

His wife stood beside him, seated on the Iron Throne − she was showing her allegiance to him by wearing on her neck and fingers the sapphire jewels, necklaces and rings he had given her, her gown as usual in the colours of her lineage, blue.

He knew that she did not desire rich, shiny gifts, and his presents were not intended to satisfy her vanity − never able to express his feelings and thoughts aloud, he preferred to show his respect and affection towards her in this way, and she accepted it with calmness and gratitude.

She paid tribute to him as the last person to stand in front of his throne − she bowed and wanted to kneel, but he stopped her with a gesture of his hand, ordering her to stand up.

He did not stop her when she approached him, when her hand grasped his, when she lifted it to her lips and kissed it reverently, closing her eyes.

He swallowed loudly, stroking her smooth skin with his thumb, feeling like just grabbing her around the waist and placing her on his lap, the way he would if they were alone in his chamber.

She moved away from him, looking at him with peace − a certainty, a pride that made him feel a warm contentment, something in her violet eyes that always reassured him.

She was his ally.

Not his grandfather's, his mother's, or his brother's.

His.

The mother of his heir.

His wife.

After the ceremony, a council was gathered, led by him, to determine what to do about the situation in Harrenhal, besieged for some time by Daemon. He did not allow his wife to leave the chamber, pointing with his hand to the seat on his right hand that would normally be occupied by his mother. His sire accepted this with humility, allowing his wife to take the seat next to him, herself sitting down next to Ser Criston.

Silence fell.

"How long do we have to tolerate Daemon flying around the kingdom threatening to take the crown from my brother? He laughs in our faces, occupying a stronghold so close to the Eyrie." He said coolly, his voice deep and defiant, certain. He heard his wife draw in a deep breath upon hearing the name of her ancestral fortress, lowering her gaze to her fingers.

His grandfather grunted loudly, twisting in his seat with a quiet creak of wood, looking at the faces of those gathered with a raised eyebrow.

"In my opinion, Prince Daemon wants to provoke you, Your Grace. It is obvious that his target is King's Landing. In my opinion, Harrenhal is a small price to pay to keep the capital, let him hold this fortress if he so desires."

"Harrenhal is the bridge between the North and the South. Daemon will burn Lord Arryn's army if he chooses to come to our call." He replied impatiently, Criston Cole grunted loudly, eager to make his point.

"There is only one King. Prince Daemon must be reminded of that." He said coldly, looking at him intensely, ready to rally their entire army at one sign of his. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at his wife, who was looking at him with a gaze he knew well.

As always, she was letting him decide if he wanted to hear what she had to say.

He nodded at her, allowing her to speak.

"You are the rider of the greatest dragon in the kingdom, my king. You must remain in King's Landing. The Red Keep, unlike the Eyrie, can be conquered. Prince Daemon is just waiting for this. I'm certain that when he hears that you are heading in his direction with his army he will join his wife and they will march here together. Blockade of my uncle's army will still be a lesser loss." She said calmly, looking at her hands, his grandfather nodded, his face expressing surprise and some kind of admiration.

"Your wife speaks with great wisdom, Your Grace, and I agree with her completely." He said, and he looked away, hitting the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, thinking intensely about what she had said.

What if he does indeed move on Harrenhal, and finds only an empty fortress with children, old men and women?

What if Daemon humiliates him, tricks him like a little child hoping he'll swallow his bait, and attacks the Red Keep along with his half-sister knowing he won't make it back in time?

"Forgive me, my Lady, however, idleness is the domain of women, not men." Criston Cole hissed, but fell silent, swallowing hard, his lips pressed together as he met his warning gaze.

"You mistake idleness for wisdom and caution, my Lord. Like many men before you." His wife replied, and he clenched his fingers on the base of his nose and closed his eyes, sighing impatiently.

"Enough." He ordered, a tense silence fell around him, his wife looked away − he could see the vein pulsing fast on her slender, long neck, her cheeks red, betraying her annoyance.

"Mother." He turned to her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, as he always did, reckoning with her opinion. He saw her swallow hard, picking at the cuticles around her fingernails in a nervous gesture, her big brown eyes filled with fear, uncertainty and dread.

"I think it's a trap, Aemond. Daemon is clever, he lives to mock others. He's always been this way."

He sighed quietly, feeling that despite his deep desire to lead his army to victory, there was much right in the doubts of his wife, grandfather and mother − when his anger and desire to prove himself began to give way to common sense he recognised that indeed if he left the Red Keep, his half-sister would take the opportunity.

"Let our spies continue to watch him and report his doings to us. We should think about luring him out of there somehow. Is there any news from the Iron Islands?" He asked, Lord Lannister nodded and grunted loudly.

"Yes. They agree to a set sum. They will stand against the Velaryon fleet at our call. However, they demand that their independence from the crown be upheld." He said quickly, nervously, adding the last sentence as if on the fly, clearly afraid of his reaction. He sighed heavily and merely nodded.

Their discussion continued for a few more hours, touching on the army, its supplies and the state of the soldiers' morale, their attitudes, whether an agreement could be reached with Lord Baratheon to remain neutral in exchange for the seat on the Small Council that his grandfather had offered in place of his own, knowing that it was his decision that had caused the betrothal to his daughters to be broken off.

When he had heard all he wished he closed the council by dismissing everyone but his wife.

She looked at him with her characteristic composure, watching as he removed Aegon the Conqueror's crown from his head and placed it with reverence on the top of the stone table in front of him. He gazed at its steel surface thoughtfully, tapping the tip of his finger against it, each time causing it to make a quiet clink.

"All my life I have thought about this moment. But it's not how I imagined it." He said finally, his voice impassive and tired. He heard her sigh quietly with understanding, looking down at his hands.

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, hearing only the sounds coming from outside the windows, the loud conversations of guards and servants shouting in the courtyard.

"They'll think I'm a craven." He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling uncertainty and frustration rising in his chest − he sensed that she looked at him, her hand tightening on his, as if she wanted to give him the courage to do the right thing.

"He knows this is what you fear most. He'll laugh and mock that you're afraid to face him, but we both know he'll do it because he hopes it will break you. Don't let him dictate to you the terms of when and where you will face each other. It's humiliating." She said with a certainty from which he felt a squeeze in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, his thumb running over her soft skin.

"I'm expecting your child."

He shuddered, looking at her with his lips parted in disbelief, his heart began to pound hard at the thought that just a month after she'd given birth to his son, despite their shared promises, he'd come deep inside her when he'd made love to her, unable to stop himself, her hands clenched tightly on his bare buttocks, her sweet moans begging for his seed.

How could he deny her?

"Forgive me." He whispered in a trembling voice, thinking of the nightmare she'd endured, of how long she'd been unable to recover from it, how close she'd come to leaving this world. He heard her hum under her breath as she smiled softly, shaking her head.

"No. It is a good omen. A sign from the gods that they favour you." She replied, looking at him as if she was the one who wanted to comfort him, his fingers intertwined with hers. "I think this time will be different. I already know what to expect and that I can count on your support, my King."

He nodded, lifting her hand to his lips, placing a loud, lingering kiss on her smooth skin.

"They have taken pity on me, sending me you as my wife. My Queen." He muttered, drawing her close to him, gripping her waist, seating her comfortably on his lap, leaning against the back of his chair with a quiet sigh, gazing at her familiar, pleasant figure with tenderness.

She smiled warmly at his words, taking his face in her hands, stroking it with her thumbs. He closed his eyes, letting his body loosen, feeling sleepy and tired even though his manhood clearly expressed its pleasure at her closeness, swelling in his breeches.

"I will order a meal to be prepared for you and brought to your chamber. You have hardly eaten or slept for days."

"Mmm." He hummed, satisfied, as always, that she was watching him, that she knew what he needed without asking him unnecessary questions.

While this would surely have caused his frustration with another woman, her initiative didn't bother him; on the contrary, it made his daily life a lot easier, giving him the feeling that he didn't have to think of everything himself.

She was the one who decided what attire he should wear for what occasion, what they would eat for their morning meal, knowing what he liked most. To his satisfaction, she also found herself in the role of mother, establishing a close bond with their son, Jace's attachment to her and how joyfully he reacted to the sight of her made her eager to hold him in her embrace, letting him watch her feed him in the evenings.

His greatest weakness, as he found out, proved to be not the lack of his eye or control over his fiery temper, but the taste of her milk melting across his palate as his son slept peacefully at night with his belly filled with her food.

He clamped his mouth over her swollen, puffy nipples, sucking on them greedily as his fat cock thrust impatiently into her slick interior, teasing with its tip the spot inside her that made her moan shamelessly with pleasure.

"− my King −" She sobbed sweetly with her thighs spread wide, letting him pound into her with deep, fast pushes, purring with pleasure into the skin of her breasts, swallowing loudly her wonderful nectar. His sound vibrated through her entire body making her walls clench against him greedily, squeezing him, his thumb teasing and trailing around her pearl, making her fingers dig helplessly into his naked, sweaty back.

"− this is a meal worthy of the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, don't you think? − my wife's sweet, warm milk −" He murmured, running the tip of his nose over her nipple only to move his face to her other breast, repeating the same process, justifying his behaviour by the fact that he knew the excess milk was causing her pain and discomfort, and he couldn't imagine it going to waste.

"− yes − it's all yours − f-fuck −" She muttered, tilting her head back, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders with his low groan as he felt her core begin to pulse around his manhood in orgasm, squeezing his seed out of him.

He didn't have the strength to resist and just filled her with himself, sighing in relief, licking her nipple with the tip of his tongue, as oversensitive as the rest of her body − she whimpered, trying to push him away but he wouldn't let her, busy with sucking her milk until she calmed down.

"− Aemond, please − oh gods −" She mumbled softly, completely absorbed in her fulfilment, panting heavily. He remained deep inside her, leaning on his elbow, not wanting to crush her with his body, remembering in the back of his mind about the baby in her womb.

"− what is it? − my wife is overwhelmed? − impossible −" He sneered with a grin of satisfaction − since it appeared that his attention to her breasts aroused not only him, she was soaking wet for him, her fulfilment approaching quickly and violently, making her body completely vulnerable and limp, as if she herself was shocked by how intense the sensation was.

"− I didn't even notice when you filled me again, my King − I'm inclined to think you're drawing satisfaction from my pleasure −" She cooed with a sweet smile, from which he chuckled under his breath, leaning towards her − her hand pulled him closer as their lips joined in a hot, sticky, soft kiss, her swollen breasts pressed against his chest.

He ran the tip of his nose over hers, looking into her eyes, a violet he adored − the shade of her irises slightly darker than his, warmer, shimmering wonderfully in the moonlight illuminating their bed.

He wanted to confess to her the many things that did not slip through his throat, the affection that filled his heart with heat, yet he remained silent, looking at her with a gaze she knew well. She always reacted the same way, her soft hand stroking his jaw as only two words came out of her mouth, spoken in a whisper.

"I know."

[astarionmademewriteit]

Mission: Chaos

Astarion (Unascended) x (unnamed) f!reader/tav

Rating: Explicit

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Tags: Smut; Sorta Act 3 spoilers but not really; Blood, gore and graphic violence; Oral sex (Male receiving); Tav is switch-coded; Mostly adventure; some cute lil fluff

Summary: Astarion and Tav are tasked with a mission only two rogues could accomplish. The looming danger sparks a heated moment. The pair continue to unleash chaos in their wake.

Part Two

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

I exited my tent at nearly the same time as Astarion stepped out of his. We look each other over, admiring our matching black tactical outfits. Our hoods were drawn, shrouding most of our facial features. Astarion had his matching daggers fastened to his hips and bow fastened to his back, while I had my twin scimitars crossed against mine.

I take in the way his muscular frame is outlined by the fitted armor–the various golden buckles and straps only adding to his lithe elegance.

He flashes me a sharp toothy smile that nearly stops my heart, “Are you ready, my love?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I sigh. I turn to the rest of the camp, our companions watching us patiently.

“Hells, that’s adorable,” Karlach laughs, her eyes aflame with delight and perhaps a hint of jealousy, “We should all get matching gear.”

Astarion chuckles and flourishes his hand through the air waving off her comment, “Please,” he breathes, “Not everyone can look this good.”

I roll my eyes playfully and turn back to the group. Gale steps forward, “Okay, you two. Do you remember the plan?”

Astarion rolls his eyes, clearly tired of having to recite the plan for the umpteenth time just to soothe Gale’s obvious dissatisfaction at being left behind. “By the nine hells, yes Gale,” Astarions says his name with unfiltered disdain, “Remember, Tav and I are the most capable individuals for this mission. The last thing we need is a wizard lumbering about and slowing us down.” He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns, clearly irritated with Gale’s questioning.

Gale plays it off cooly, throwing his hands in the air and backing away, “Just be careful and stay imperceptible. Minimal casualties and all that.”

I nod my head before grabbing Astarion by the arm and pulling him after me, ready to be done with the tense conversation.

This mission was a departure from our usual. We were never really the group to plan things out in advance, and our best laid plans usually entailed stomping into the middle of enemy territory and taking them out by sheer force of will. No, this mission was entirely different. It was a reconnaissance. We sought information–information that would surely aid us in beating the Absolute.

There was an unsuspecting enemy fortress in the lower city, crawling with a faction of Absolutists. It was rumored that there was information related to the Grand Design inside the heavily guarded stronghold. Information regarding the crown of Karsus, blueprints and maps revealing the location of the brain, and relevant information related to the Illithids were also rumored to be residing somewhere behind those looming walls.

As the only two rogues in our merry band of misfits, Astarion and I were the best chance we had at infiltrating and obtaining that information and walking out completely unscathed.

We enter the lower city, our long strides and unbreakable determination keep us moving forward. While I am deep in thought, recounting each step of the plan over and over again until it is etched into my brain, Astarion slips his hand through mine and squeezes it softly.

I look up at him pleasantly surprised by the small affection. It warmed my heart to know that he was comfortable with me in such a manner. After everything we’ve been through, and after everything he has had to endure, small affections like this show me that I make him feel safe enough to express his true feelings.

“Nervous?” I ask, raising an eyebrow playfully. I squeeze his hand back as we round a corner. The streets of Baldur’s Gate are bustling, even at night. Street merchants shout at passersby hoping to entice a drunk patron with deep pockets. The taverns lining the street are practically bursting at the seams, loud music spilling from their thresholds and backdropped by the low murmur of drunk customers seeking temporary refuge from reality.

“Ha!” Astarion laughs exuberantly, “Darling, a magnificent and deadly creature such as myself doesn’t get nervous! However, you looked like you needed some comfort,” He pulls his hand from mine and drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in close. I try to stifle the stupid grin on my face, but I’m unsuccessful in my pursuit to remain cool and collected.

I glance at him and, despite his words, he does look concerned. “As long as we watch each other’s back, we will be fine,” I murmur, wanting nothing more than to soothe his worries and smooth the creases in his forehead that appeared as his brows knit together with concern.

He peers down at me, his bright vermillion eyes searching mine, looking for some form of respite, “Just like old times,” he amends. I flash him a sly smile and lean my head into his shoulder as we continue walking towards our destination. His scent engulfs me completely and adds to the growing comfort.

The stronghold grows larger as we approach its imposing presence. We untangle from our embrace and fall to the shadows, walking the perimeter of the building, being careful to avoid the sentry’s posted at every entrance and window. We round the last corner to the back of the fortress and eye the cellar entrance–two swordsmen posted outside the door with bored expressions painted across their empty faces.

Astarion leans over to consult me on our plan but I’m already stumbling out of the shadows, tripping over my feet and slurring my words, waving in their direction, “S’cuse me sirs, where the bloody hells is Elfshong taverns?” My drunk performance eases the tension between the guards and I can hear Astarion hissing a string of expletives from the shadows. I try not to break character, but getting under his skin was entertaining.

“Ma’am, this area is off limits,” they say as they approach.

I trip over my own feet and fall to the ground, letting a drunk giggle escape my lips. The men rush to my side to lend a hand. I look up at the guard and reach for his hand. As soon as I make contact, I yank him down closer and the flash of my scimitar is the last thing the guard sees before the edge slices across the soft flesh of his throat. Blood sprays through the air and before it can settle Astarion is at my side, burying the dagger in the heart of the second guard.

“Bloody hells, darling,” he says exasperated, already pulling his attention away from the corpses, “warn me before you do something like that again.” He laughs breathily, obviously roused by my efficacy.

I smile up at him–blood spray painting my face, “Careful my love, you almost sound impressed,” I laugh playfully as I wipe the blood from my scimitar on the guard's attire before slipping it back into its harness.

“Oh but I am,” he murmurs, “You never look so beautiful than when you are luring others to their death.” He cocks an eyebrow and I pull my shoulder to my chin, preening at his compliment.

We focus our attention back to the cellar door and I let Astarion approach it to examine the lock mechanism. I lean up against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest and propping one foot against the wall, scanning the alleyway to ensure no one approaches us.

Astarion crouches down beside me and inserts a lockpick into the keyhole, making short work of the mechanism. His eyes rake up my body as he pulls himself back to his feet. His vermillion eyes finally meet mine and I cock an eyebrow, letting him know I caught him staring.

“What?” He whines, “I can’t help it,” he shrugs his shoulders before entering the cellar. I follow close behind him, pulling a small dagger out of a built-in holster that Astarion had sewn into the pant legs. He draws his own daggers, his knuckles seemingly paler than normal as he grips the handle. We slink into the dank, cool cellar scanning for any signs of life that might threaten ours. Stacks of wine barrels line the walls, and rows upon rows of bottled wine litter the cellar. Even the floor is covered in a pool of spilled wine. Once we are certain no one occupies the cellar, we relax slightly, looking for a doorway that will lead us into the belly of the beast.

“It’s a wonder the taverns haven’t run dry with the Absolutists hoarding so much wine down here,” I whisper, taken aback by just how large of a supply there was down here.

Astarion continues weaving through the rows of wine, searching for a way out, “Darling, one thing that is never in short supply in Baldur’s Gate, well, aside from tadpoled freaks, is booze. Here we are,” he alerts, finding a ladder leading up to a hatch in the ceiling.

I nod and follow Astarion as he climbs the ladder. He pauses at the hatch, reaching out with his senses to what lay beyond. After a minute or two he pops open the hatch and crawls out, offering me a hand. He pulls me up quickly before securing the hatch.

We are in a large storage area, boxes of food line the walls. We listen at the wooden door, noting the footsteps of a couple of guards as they patrol the corridor that lay beyond. We sit in silence, counting the minutes between each round until we have a good idea of how long we have to exit the storage and take in our surroundings. Once the guards have both made another pass, we exit quietly, scanning the area for places to hide or rooms to search.

A large corridor stretches out in front of us, several rooms line the walls and numerous hallways branch off the main path into unseen corners of the fortress. The corridor is dimly lit, the sconces overflowing with melted candle wax while newly lit ones cast a faint glow that barely illuminates the great hall.

Astarion already looks to be regretting this mission, clearly exasperated by the number of rooms lining these labyrinths. I surge forward, counting down the minutes before another sentry passes through. The information we are searching for would probably be in a room of some importance, and by the looks of it none of these rooms will contain what we are looking for.

We slink along the walls, stopping every so often to listen for approaching footsteps. Astarion is close at my heels, glancing behind every so often to make sure we aren’t taken by surprise. An adjacent hallway moves out of view and I start forward, hoping to find something–anything.

I peak around the corner and eye two cultists conspiring quietly while they stroll away from us. I signal to Astarion that two enemies are up ahead and he nods, readying himself. We crouch low and stalk slowly in their wake, our footsteps imperceptible even to the pests that scuttle about nearby. I tighten my grip on my dagger, nearing the cultists as they fuss with impatience over the agonizingly slow takeover of Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion and I react simultaneously, wrapping our arms around the unsuspecting thralls and cutting deeply into their throats, effectively cutting off any attempt to alert the others. My victim falls backwards into me and I quickly begin pulling their body into an adjoining room. I dispose of their body in an unsuspecting corner and watch as Astarion follows.

“I’ll never get tired of annihilating these tadpoled freaks,” I whisper, “The rush of adrenaline is exhilarating to say the least.” I admire our handiwork.

Astarion grins in my direction, “Yes… your adrenaline is exhilarating, my dear. It’s so palpable I can almost taste it,” he licks his lips playfully and flashes his fangs. I immediately blush, images of him drinking greedily from my throat flood my mind.

“You’re so distracting,” I say flirtatiously. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to go on a solo mission with Astarion. He makes it difficult to focus, especially when he looks at me the way he is–as if he is ready to devour me.

He simply laughs in response before returning to the mission at hand. We surveyed our surroundings one last time before following the winding hallways through the fortress looking for a room that looked of some importance. We passed by rows of rooms, some sporadically containing Absolutists, too engrossed in their conversations to realize danger lurked around the corner. Most we spared simply because we were trying to keep a low profile. Others wouldn't be so lucky.

We round another corner, eyeing a large set of oak doors emblazoned with the Absolute’s insignia. I turn to Astarion who looks relieved. We slowly make our way down the long corridor when the clanking of metal armor rings through the hallway, echoing loudly in our ears. In one brief moment, a steel watcher exits a room adjacent to the one we were headed towards, and Astarion snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me off the ground and into a room directly beside us. I gasp momentarily, not expecting to be so roughly handled.

He pushes me up against a wall out of the doorway and presses a hand to my mouth. My heart beats loudly in my chest, threatening to burst through my ribcage. Astarion huffs quietly, slightly annoyed that we were almost detected. We stay perfectly still, listening as the steel watcher clangs about slowly.

Astarions forearm is pressed against my shoulders and, even though our demise looms just down the hall, I can’t help the sinful thoughts that cross my mind–especially when his hand is clasped firmly over my mouth the way it is. I shift uncomfortably, pressing my thighs together subtly. I try to suppress the growing warmth that travels to my core, rather unsuccessfully.

Nothing gets past Astarion, however, who has come to recognize my body language better than I knew my own. He peers down at me and knits his eyebrows together, sending me a quiet look that just says… Really? Of all the times.

I look up at him with rounded eyes and shrug. It’s not like I could explain myself with his hand pressed against my mouth and a metal monstrosity lurking around the corner threatening to alert every Absolute in the building of our presence.

Astarion carefully reaches out with his foot and shuts the door quietly. We stand still for several more minutes, waiting for the steel watcher to stray from its post. It seems to be assigned to this hall specifically, and if we can’t find a way into that room, the whole mission will have been for naught.

He loosens his grip around my mouth and brings a finger to his mouth, gesturing for me to stay quiet. I roll my eyes. He glares at me, a look of lustful determination dances across his face. I know that devious look.

Astarion and I have found a kindred spirit in one another. Our blood always ran hot after battle, and our sexual tension was always palpable during moments of high danger. It was an odd little quirk–one that usually awarded us concerning looks among the other companions. They knew we would disappear for hours on end after a particularly difficult battle, choosing to get lost in one another. At least,that was before he truly opened up to me. He confessed his feelings regarding sex, assuring me that what we had was something more, but that it was just too much for him to process–too much to handle. I understood.

It had been weeks since we were last intimate, not that I particularly minded. I had fallen head over heels for this man and I only wanted him to have time to heal. I respected his space, because it wasn’t his body or his looks that took hold of my heart–it was all of him. His soul. It was his fierce protectiveness that he tried so hard to hide that captured my heart. His undying loyalty for his friends. His passion for something more than what the last two centuries had offered him.

He has slowly started exploring physical touch with me again. Placing small kisses along my shoulders. Running his fingers through my hair. Idly tracing shapes on my skin at night. If he allowed it, I would return the small affections, always making sure that he was happy and present.

Our currently shared predicament ignited something in me tonight. I don't know if it was the jarring realization that I loved Astarion more than words could ever properly describe, or the fact that this little mission of ours just reinforced how badly I could not lose him. Perhaps it was both, but a deep yearning for him settled in the pit of my stomach. But it wasn't just about what I wanted. If the way he was looking at me was any indicator, it seemed like he desperately needed me too. Of course, we'd have to be positively mad to indulge in that kind of behavior right now, but we never classified ourselves as sane, rational people to begin with. The heat of the moment was almost unbearable.

A look passes between us and I cock my head to the side, a silent question on my expression. He flashes me a devious smile, which is all the answer I need. He leans in slowly, his hands tracing the curves of my body as he makes his way to my face. His fingers tangle in my hair and he pulls me in roughly, crushing his lips to mine with such eager desperation that I all but go limp under his touch.

I return his kiss eagerly, allowing him to lead–to explore at his own comfort and pace. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, searching for my own. Our tongues mingle, indulging fervently in one another–searching for reprieve. Our lips move together in time, his taste completely engulfing me. His fangs drag against my lip and it takes all the strength in me not to moan. But that was part of the fun wasn't it?

Astarion presses his body harder into mine, pinning me to the wall with such unfiltered reverence. His arousal is evident as it digs into my stomach and my body screams for him in return. I'm fully aware that we cannot have sex here. I could not hope to stay silent during such a sordid affair, but I wanted so badly to bring him pleasure. I wanted him to feel untainted ecstasy, purely for his enjoyment (and let’s face it, for my own enjoyment as well. Nothing felt better than making him feel good). That's where I make up my mind.

With all the force I can muster I spin him around and press him against the wall, never breaking our sultry kiss. Astarion is momentarily stunned by my forwardness, but quickly relaxes and indulges me.

Our tongues continue their sensual dance, exploring one another's mouth as if it's our last night on Faerun. It very well could be. I move my hands to his trousers, playing with the ties that are keeping him restrained. I pull away from our kiss momentarily to peer up into those vermillion eyes, gauging whether he was okay with this. He pushes the hair out of my face, tucking a wisp of hair behind my pointed ears.

He gives me a look of approval which only spurs me to unlace his trousers. I crouch slowly, never taking my eyes off him. The look of pure adoration that graces his features let me know that he is okay and that he wants this. I drop completely to my knees in an act of pure worship–of reverence.

“Darling,” he whispers softly, “You're insatiable.” I give him a knowing look before springing his arousal free from the confines of his trousers. A look of triumph crosses my features, he was hard for me. I still evoked a sense of desire from him. I truly was lucky.

I peel his trousers away before looking up into his wanting face. He looks so earnestly turned on by our circumstances that it brings a devious smile to my lips. I take his cock in my hand, eliciting a quiet hiss to escape his perfect lips. I swipe my thumb across his swollen head, already leaking from the sheer excitement and looming danger. I look up at him, rounding my eyes and biting my lip–a look that drives him mad. He is delirious with desire.

I take his length between my lips, slowly taking him in until I can take no more. Astarion throws his head back, resting it on the wall behind him. His hands snake down into my hair, his fingers grasping for leverage. He moans quietly–the sound strained and full of need. He begins to guide my head gently, using my mouth to fuck himself slowly and deliberately.

My tongue drags down his length, savoring the way he tastes. I suck him hard and slow, letting him guide my movements. I stroke the base of his cock with my hand which only heightens his desire. I swirl my tongue around his head, teasing him endlessly until he all but forces his cock back down my throat.

I push his cock to the back of my throat as far as it will go, ignoring the way I gag around him. My throat tightens around his length, and his hand shoots to his mouth clearly enjoying it enough that he has to remind himself to stay as quiet as possible.

I continue to suck him slowly and deeply, bobbing my head in deliberate motions, enjoying the way I can pleasure him so intently. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I continue my pace. His hands drag down his body and he pulls his shirt up slightly, giving me a peak at his toned abdomen.

I lock eyes with him, never stopping my pursuit and I can tell that action alone is enough to push him over the edge. His grip in my hair tightens, pulling at my hair painfully in just the way I like which spurs me to continue.

I pick up the pace, his cock hitting the back of my throat repeatedly and causing me to gag more frequently. More tears escape from my lash line and the sight of me has Astarion panting heavily, his knees practically buckling from the intense pleasure.

I pull away for a moment and let my hand continue to service him, a string of saliva hangs between my lips and his throbbing head. I look up at him with rounded eyes, trying to convey a look of pure innocence. I can tell the sight drives him wild. I find him on the precipice, so close to falling over the edge.

He whimpers, a rare sound to escape his lips, but one that lets me know how he is feeling, “Please,” he begs. It is such a rare moment to find him begging for release, and it is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

“Please, what?” I ask teasingly. It is not very often that I get to coax such desperate words from his lips and I plan to take advantage of our situation. I want him to tell me what he wants.

He huffs, clearly seeing through my ploy. He surrenders to it almost instantly, unable to hurl a quip in my direction with the way my hand falls down his slick length slowly.

He struggles to find the words while he is so completely at my mercy. I cock an eyebrow at him, waiting patiently as I continue to massage his cock languidly in my palm. I teasingly swipe my tongue up the length of his shaft, hoping that it will motivate him to tell me what he wants.

“Please,” he says breathlessly, “I want to come.” He peers down at me, his eyes a pool of desperation and mad with desire.

I nod my head and quickly take him fully in my mouth once more, letting my throat accommodate as much of him as I can possibly muster. He inhales sharply, enjoying the way my warm wet mouth fits so perfectly around him. He grips my hair even tighter and I stifle the moan that wants to escape my throat.

He sets the pace for me once again, my head bobbing fervently as I suck hard and quickly. His cock hitting the back of my throat at a punishing pace as he thrust himself into me. His breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts more erratic. I can tell he is chasing his own release.

“Gods,” he whispers, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, “Please don’t stop.”

I chance a small groan, despite our current situation, and the vibrations are surely what sends him over the edge. His pace slows as his seed spills into the back of my throat. I swallow it greedily, his taste giving me my own sort of pleasure.

I can tell Astarion wants nothing more than to moan out in pleasure, but he keeps quiet, throwing his head back against the wall as his orgasm rocks through his body. His release sends a wave of pleasure through his entire body.

I swallow every drop of his spent, savoring its unique flavor. Once he has stilled completely, I pull him from my mouth with a quiet pop. He looks down at me, trying desperately to bring his breathing under control. I can feel the slickness between my thighs and note the ways my body longs for him.

I swipe my thumb along the corner of my mouth and down my bottom lip before helping him fasten his trousers. I stand completely and meet his vermillion gaze.

“Gods below,” he finally whispers, his voice raspy, “You’re going to be the death of me, my dear.” He brings a hand to my face and swipes his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped earlier.

I drag my hands through his ivory curls and look at him with unfiltered adoration. His eyes flit to my lips once more and he pulls me in close, kissing me so deeply and with such devotion that my knees threaten to buckle underneath me.

After a moment he pulls away, “We better make it through the night, darling,” he purrs, “Because I’m taking you for myself when we get back to camp.” he drags a knuckle down my neck and gently traces my collarbone. He sighs with longing, before releasing me from his embrace. My body shivers at his promise, steeling my determination.

Back to the task at hand. There will be more time to indulge in one another later. Astarion chances a peek through the door. He eyes the steel watcher, blindly marching up and down the long corridor.

“One more rotation and we can make a break for the door while its back is turned. We’ll only have a few seconds to get inside, so we’ll have to be quick and deliberate,” he whispers. I nod in understanding and wait for his order.

The steel watcher clanks down the hall, passing by our door. As soon as we are out of eye sight, we quickly and silently head towards the oak doors. Astarion quickly begins lockpicking while I watch the steel watcher near the end of the hall.

“It’s about to come back,” I say urgently. I hear the lock give way under his deft fingers and we slink in and shut the door just when the watcher rounded on its heels. I rest against the oak doors, trying to calm my nerves and taking in the surrounding room.

The room had vaulted ceilings, only lit by the low burning candles on the wall. The opposite side of the room had floor to ceiling shelves filled with dusty tomes. A large ornate desk sat in the middle scattered with papers–none of which looked particularly important. Against a sidewall sat a large table with maps strewn about, battle plans inscribed across them.

Astarion studies the maps before stuffing them into his pocket. I eye a chest against an adjacent wall and make my way over, studying it for any signs of a trap. Satisfied that I detect none, I crouch down to begin picklocking.

Before I can, however, Astarion yanks me to my feet and I look up at his worried face. “Darling, do be careful. It is obviously a trap.” His face is concerned–scared even. The thought of me getting hurt because I failed to detect the trap creeps across his face. Usually, in these situations he would be more annoyed than anything. But all I see is real fear.

“Sorry,” I murmur, stepping aside to allow him to disarm the trap and unlock the chest. He makes quick work of both, his lithe hands working gracefully and efficiently. After a moment, the chest pops open.

We both look inside. It is filled with several folded letters containing useful information related to the Grand Design. Several tomes related to the Crown of Karsus and its Netherstones were also nestled inside. Lastly, a large map marking a location deep beneath the city looked particularly interesting. Perhaps that is where the elder brain was located. We stuff the contents of the chest in our pack and ready ourselves to leave.

“Let’s get the hells out of here,” Astarion says, relieved.

Before we can exit the room, the door swings open. We react instantly, melting into the wall just out of eyesight of the door. An armored woman walks through the door completely unaware of our presence as she is too engrossed in a letter she has in her hand. Before the door can fully shut, Astarion leaps forward from behind her and places a hand over her mouth. She looks up at me, terror and recognition fills her eyes. I’m the last thing she ever sees as he snaps her neck with powerful force.

Her limp body falls to the floor. I snatch the letter from her hand and read it quickly. There is some kind of charm or enchantment concealing the actual message. I stuff it into my pocket, hoping Gale can find some use in it.

We peek through the door, waiting for the watcher to turn its back. Once the coast is clear, we begin our complicated dance–maneuvering in and out of rooms as the watcher passes us by. Once we clear the corridor, we begin our long journey through the maze of corridors, eliminating stray cultists if we come across them and picking up any gold we find along the way.

By the time we make it back to the storage room, our pockets are heavy with gold and various loot. We descend down the hatch and back into the cellar, giggling quietly at our success. A mixture of relief and satisfaction washing over us as our tension melts away.

We burst through the cellar door and into the alleyway, the cool dark night welcoming us. I turn to find Astarion calculating, a diabolical grin graces his features. I cock my head to the side, wondering what he is planning.

“Stand back, darling,” he says, flashing his fangs. In one fluid motion he lights the end of an arrow and nocks it. He pulls the arrow back until the string is taut. His muscles strain against the force and he has never looked quite as beautiful than in this moment–right before causing unimaginable chaos. He aims squarely at the still open door of the cellar and releases the arrow. Before it lodges in the side of a barrel of wine he turns and bolts towards me. He leaps gracefully in my direction and we both topple to the ground. He shields my body with his, pinning me firmly to the cold hard ground.

As soon as we hit the ground a large explosion rings through the air as a chain reaction ignites the lowest level of the fortress. The heat from the explosion pricks my skin as a large orange glow rises into the dark night. The building gives way, its structural integrity buckling under the sheer force of the explosion.

I burst out laughing, tears coming to the surface as my laughter turns into uncontrollable guffawing. Astarion joins me in laughter, and the sound is beautiful. We allow ourselves to fall apart, finding entertainment in our own chaotic decisions. The glow from the explosion paints his features in a warm aura, and at this moment I have decided I cannot live without my vampire.

I run my fingers through his snowy curls, looking at him with pure devotion hanging heavy in my heart. “I love you, Astarion,” I whisper lovingly.

He stares at me and his features soften, “I-I love you too, Tav.” He leans down and kisses me in the alley way, all our fears melting away and forgotten as the building crashes down behind us. We are just two love-sick people who thrive on chaos. I cannot think of a place I would rather be. He continues to surprise me, and I surmise our future together is going to be beautifully chaotic.

“Let’s get you back to camp, darling,” He whispers as he pulls away from our kiss, “We have some unfinished business to attend to.”

[useless-catalanfacts]

bon dia!! I'm moving to Catalunya this fall to be an English teacher's assistant and I'm so so excited to learn catalan and explore your beautiful country 💗 Do you have any recommendations for places or activities around the Lleida región? Moltes gràcies ☺️

Bon dia!

In Lleida (the city itself), the most iconic site to visit is the Seu Vella (old cathedral). It's a Medieval cathedral that was also used as a stronghold in war in the Early Modern Period. It's located on top of a hill, so there's great views of the whole city from there.

(Photo)

A natural place: the Congost de Mont-rebei (Mont-rebei Canyon). This is the river that is used as the administrative dividing line between Catalonia on East and Aragon in the West (La Franja). It's a very beautiful place, but I don't know what it's like now with the drought. There's a very nice walk near the La Pertusa chapel and in an excavated part of the rock walls so you can see the river. Many people also go kayaking or similar things but I don't know if there's enough water now. (For context, we're having a very bad drought, it has barely rained in 3 years and all the reservoirs are practically empty).

(Photo 1 / Photo 2)

In spring, it's also very pretty to see the fruit tree fields around Lleida. The most popular town to go to is Aitona, but you can also see it in Seròs, Alcarràs, Torres de Segre, and others.

(Photo)

Some historical small towns near Lleida that are nice to visit include Vallbona de les Monges with its Medieval monastery, and the towns around the Riucorb river (I would recommend the town Guimerà, and also Verdú to visit its tower), Montfalcó Murallat is also nice but very small. For a bigger town: Cervera. It's interesting to see the university building in Cervera, when Philip V (Spanish king who conquered Catalonia in 1714) made all the universities in Catalonia, Valencia, Mallorca and Aragon close down, he only allowed 1 university, which he moved to Cervera because it was a city where many people had supported him in the war and because it was in a rural area so he could closely control the students (university students in Barcelona and other places had been very involved in the war against Philip V).

(Photo 1: Santa Maria de Vallbona monastery. Photo 2: Guimerà)

An archaeological site: Fortalesa dels Vilars in Arbeca. This was a fortress inhabited between 775 and 300 BC, you can visit the archaeological site and the museum with the objects found. Arbeca is also famous for its olives (called arbequines), definitively worth a try 😋🫒 you'll find them in most markets and supermarkets.

(Photo)

If you're near, when it comes to archaeology, there are also some prehistorical rock art sites. The most well-known in the area is the wall La roca dels moros in Cogul.

(Photo 1)

Those are the places I'd recommend closest to Lleida. If you can move more, I also really recommend going up to the Pyrenees mountains (in the north of the Lleida province). There's lots of Medieval architecture there, lots of cute villages and some wonderful natural parks.

The bad thing about the Lleida area is that it doesn't have as good public transport as more densely populated areas, because outside of Lleida city itself it's very rural. So you might have to rely on cars.

Another activity in Lleida: the most famous food from there is snails, there are different recipes, the most widespread is caragols a la llauna, but they also serve them with allioli or with vinaigrette. There's also many other delicious foods, but that is what most people associate with Lleida the most.

Aaand that's what comes to mind in the areas near Lleida. I'm not from that province so I don't know it as well as other areas, if someone reading this has more recommendations please feel free to add them in the reblogs or comments.

I hope you enjoy your time in Catalonia!

[monsterartt]

That statue... I can't remember if it was here before... it's a statue of Archangel Gabriel. He didn't hold anything, and his chest seemed to move...

I should turn on light to see it a little...

Much better... his wings seem to have real feathers. His clothes also look a bit different from other statuses of him. Look at that hair... *touch* The paint seems to be falling from it for a long time. This state looks like it looks at me... what the-

Oh, come on, why is my camera is glitching! *hit it with hand*

Aha, and got it! This old camera does that first time... Why do I feel like I'm being watched? I don't know, but this statue really looks like it watches my every move...

Huh!? What's happening with this statue!? I-is that blood coming from it eyes! *back away and start preying and speak up psalm 18*

“I love you, O Lord, my strength. The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.”

*Camera drop on the floor...*

There's a missing boy in the town, Mandela. The last time he was seen was at night walking alone to church at 3 a.m. date 14th December 1996. If you have seen him please contact police.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: The Wreck Of the Jelziid Pirates

Though the pirate wars are long over, the scars of the conflict linger on, with the skeletal wrecks of vessels still lost in the kingdom’s waterways and the scattered dozens of villages reduced to ash during the raids. Worse yet are the pirates themselves, hundreds of foreign sailors left stranded after their fleet was shattered and the crown took back the great river, forced to linger on in the wilderness as scavengers and bandits, forever outcast from the people they victimized.

Hooks:

An important figure is kidnapped in the night while travelling, their carriage ambushed, their guard slaughtered and the bodies left behind by the attackers clearly indicate the pirates were behind it. That is until the party investigates, and realizes that a number of the bodies left behind are days older than the incident, and those that aren't don’t might wear the right armour but don’t bear any of the tattoos or cultural markings associated with the Jelziid . Clearly someone is trying to shift the blame here, but finding out who it was who staged the attack may require the party to seek out the pirate stronghold in the high wilderness and ask around for witnesses. 

A local merchant is found strung up in the market, his body disfigured in a way that was common for those found guilty by military tribunal to be capitulating with the pirates during the war. The only problems ( other than the brutal death of a well loved member of the community) is that this is well over a decade from the end of martial law, and the local magistrate has been given a tip that it was the party that was responsible. Perhaps they can argue their innocence, or stay on the lam long enough to investigate the charges themselves. 

Every year the crown helps fund a grand festival to celebrate the queen’s birthday, a tradition that originally started to celebrate the arrival of a long awaited heir, but revived in modern years as the then crown-princess proved herself a hero during the pirate wars, leading the defence of numerous settlements and playing a key part in the battle that broke the invading fleet once and for all. This year however a shipment of  gold was stolen from the provincial governor by a group of pirates who’ve taken off into the deep wilderness, putting the celebration in jeopardy. Should the party manage to find and return this small fortune (after perhaps skimming a little off the top) they can expect a major finder’s fee, the thanks of the governor, and guest of honour invitations to the festival in a few weeks.

Background: For generations the raiders of the Jelziid fleet plundered their way across the world’s oceans in a force that only an empire could hope to challenge, raiding entire coastlines in a single night and then moving on to offload their loot and captives at ports willing to trek with such ruthless acquisition. This all changed with the infamous captain Talalan who fought his way to leadership after the, were chased out of their previous hunting grounds by a newly emergent coalition. Seeing that his bloodthisty brethren had perhaps grown too large, too infamous, to carry on as they had, he rallied the fleet with the idea that they’d become fierce enough to claim a territory for their own, settling on the kingdom of the great river as the place they could turn their mastery of water into a dominion of those who worked the land.

Further adventures:

The pirates who stole the gold are hiding out in the wreck of one of their great warships, a mouldering fortress of sloped decks and rotten wood half submerged in the silt of a nearby river. They were expecting to be picked up by some criminal contacts who helped set the heist up, but they’ve been delayed on the river. As the party infiltrates the dungeon and tries not to get ambushed, consider having a clock run down for when reinforcements arrive, potentially losing the party their prize and chance at making inroads with the court.

Either clearing their names through logical argument or escaping the law to prove their own innocence gives the party a chance to investigate the merchant’s death, which in turn reveals he was buying up food to trade with an enclave of pirates who’d set up a makeshift logging camp. Still technically a crime, but the gang of vigilantes who carried out the punishment were infact a group of thugs hired by one of the merchant’s business rivals, who was resentful of him undercutting him thanks to the pirates' help.One of these envious merchants served in the pirate wars with the magistrate’s most trusted official, and used his war buddy’s old emnitiy to convince the official to turn a blind eye to the powergrab and find a convenient excuse (a  troublemaking group of adventurers) 

In their interactions with the pirates, the party keep hearing tell of someone called “The Eelmonger”, an innocuous name spoken with reverence , and an apparent successor to captain Talalan‘s broken legacy.  Whoever the monger turns out to be, the eels are infact monstrous river serpents, some of which have been meted out to the pirates to use as guardbeasts and weapons, with the promise that more are on the way.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Found your blog by chance, seems like a very cool concept!

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ🫖🍵

I wonder if you have played Warhammer Fantasy RPG, and if you have any thoughts on it, or who you would recommend it to bonus question, any rules light one session RPGs with ready example scenarios you'd recommend?

Hello there! I do not have any experience with Warhammer in any of its forms, unfortunately. The closes I’ve gotten to experiencing anything Warhammer is the actual play episodes hosted on Fandible. I’ll post links to each of their episodes below.

Only War | Black Crusade | Age of Sigmar | The Black, the Grey & the Skaven | Wrath & Glory

Now, let’s see if I can do anything about the second half of your request!

Theme: Rules-Light Single Sessions.

A Complicated Profession, by Always Checkers Publishing.

A Complicated Profession is a light-hearted sci-fi TTRPG for 3 to 5 players. It's a one-shot that usually lasts a few sessions. What do bounty hunters do when the galaxy no longer needs them? In this game, they start new careers hosting intergalactic cruises!

Reunite your disbanded crew of jaded sidekicks, shabby droids and shady accomplices. Then pick a hosting role and start a new life together. 

While it may last a little longer than one session, I’m really excited about A Complicated Profession, as my game group will be playing it in about a month or so! Character creation is something of a fill-it-in mad-libs style process, which I can foresee being pretty quick and easy to set up. The tone of the game is really lighthearted as well, which I think is a great thing to look for when playing one-shots, especially if you’re playing games with folks you don’t know very well. I I don’t know game doesn’t have a predetermined scenario, but the focus of the game itself is pretty narrow, so I think it would be pretty easy to figure out what kinds of obstacles your retired bounty hunters will be up to.

Never & More, by Small Stories.

You are the newest recruits of The Society of Ushers, an occult secret society. Your mission is to prove yourself to your superiors, master the rituals required to move up a rung, and learn how to talk to ravens. Your direct superior and teacher, the Belfry-Devil, has finally deemed you suitable to circulate by yourselves amongst greater society, trusting you to remain faithful to the Ushers in the face of attempted poaching, targeted seduction, and superior parties.

This is a simple example of the kinds of games that exist in the Lasers-and-Feelings family of games, all designed around the concept of two core stats that tell us about your characters’ strengths and weaknesses. Many L&F games come with a few quick steps to create your character, a specific setting or mission, and a series of roll tables to help the GM construct a threat and series of obstacles. If you like rules-light games that are quick to read and occult settings, you might want to check out this game.

For Moria, by Luis Lasbelin.

With the Balrog dead, the hope of retaking Moria is more alive than ever. Thousands of dwarves gather from the great fortresses hidden beneath the mountains with the sole purpose of fighting to reclaim the once great dwarven stronghold.

For Moria uses the Breathless game system for games of terror and tension.

Breathless games are meant to put your characters in heavily dangerous situations, with resources that are guaranteed to run out. Because of this, I think they are a good fit for one-shot games, because there’s always the chance that your character meets some kind of doom. Because this game is about dwarves retaking Moria now that the Balrog is dead, I’d say that the setting does a lot of heavy lifting, assuming your characters are familiar with Tolkien’s Middle Earth. Definitely worth checking out.

Wolf Head, by A.C. Luke.

The King is just. Rather than execute you, he cursed you with the head of a wolf. Instead of death, you were exiled to be hunted for the rest of your days.

But now, the King needs you, or someone like you. There is a great crisis threatening the realm. If you were to solve it, he would remove the curse, pardon you of your crimes. What would you be willing to do for absolution?

WOLF HEAD is a dark fantasy tabletop role-playing game about medieval fable and what you will, and won't, do to be let back into the fold. Players take on the roles of wolves, criminals cursed with a wolf head and banished from society. You have become defined by your crimes—did you commit murder, foment revolution, speak heresy, or love the wrong person? And will what you did help or hinder you in clawing back what they took from you?

Wolf Head looks to have the capacity to be either a one-shot or take place over a large campaign. The game is meant to be zero-prep, which means that you can get a game up and running in no time, and the structure of quests means that you can start a one-shot with a specific quest that ends the session once it’s been accomplished. I don’t own this game, so I’m not sure if it comes with pre-written scenarios, but if it doesn’t, I’m expecting some tools to help you create your own quest pretty quickly.

Escape from Dino Island, by Sam Tung & Sam Roberts.

Escape from Dino Island is a thrilling adventure game about intrepid heroes trapped on an island overrun with creatures from a lost age—dinosaurs!

Players take on the role of everyday people who are brave and competent, but also in over their head. The game is designed to help you create the kind of stories that are full of action and suspense, but in which fighting is rarely a good option. Will you escape with your life? And what kind of person will you become in your quest to survive? There’s only one way to find out…

As a one-shot PbtA game, Escape from Dino Island starts you with a pretty tight premise: you’re trapped on an island populated with dinosaurs. Your characters all have different strengths that can help them get off the island, but one thing you have very little of is time. This is another story-first kind of game, but unlike other PbtA games, which require multiple sessions to tease out all of your character conflicts, Escape from Dino Island is meant to be played in one sitting, which means that any advancements available to your characters are expected to show up before the end of the first session.

Operation: Final Monarch, by poor students.

Operation Final Monarch is a one-page Tabletop RPG for 4-6 players. One player will act as the GM, providing obstacles, portraying passengers, and describing the Watchful Luftrahmer. You play as Infiltrators, spies from the fallen countries around Arstarkan. Your final mission is to kill Aleksander Von Korte.

When situations get risky you gamble with danger and can always push your luck to try to succeed in any situation. Be careful not to roll a 1 though, as a devastating consequence will soon follow. Use can also use your leverage over the passengers of the Watchful Luftrahmer, asking them questions they don’t want to answer or enacting your special abilities. When it all comes crashing down you will have to reveal your secrets to the other players. What do you really think about them? Are you secretly in love or hold a seed of resentment?

I keep an eye on one-page rpgs because they tend to be good candidates for single-session play. With only a few rules and not much room for character advancement, these games focus on giving you the basic premise of the game and the tools you have to play through it. Operation: Final Monarch gives your a very specific goal - assassinate Alexander Von Korte. You’re given a bottle setting to play this in as well - on Alexander’s blimp. I’m really interested in this game because it knows exactly what kind of experience it wants to give you, and it’s succinct and well laid out, which means that learning how to play isn’t that hard at all!

All Hands on Deck, by Alice V.

A gm-less, storytelling, Descended From the Queen game for three to six people about  a ship, its crew, and the sea they sail on. It is a game about the relationships between those people, about relying on each other, about being an individual in a team.

I wanted to spotlight a Descended from the Queen game because these games have a very unique mode of gameplay, which makes them really good for one-shot play. These games usually consist of a series of prompts attached to a regular playing card deck. Each turn consists of pulling a card from the deck, and answering the prompt related to it. Descended from the Queen games tend to be rather introspective, focusing on relationships and the ways they can affect our perceptions of events. The scenarios are also tied to each individual game, so in All Hands on Deck, the scenario involves a ships’ crew on a voyage, and the conflicts that may exist between different members due to the relationships they have to the Captain and each-other.

This Ship Is No Mother, by Thomas Manuel.

This Ship Is No Mother is a game about people in space, working jobs that are probably going to get them killed. Inspired by movies like Alien and games like Mothership and Dread, this is for fans of tension, creepy-crawlies, and general horror. Mechanically, it's a card-based Forged in the Dark game, first in the series of games currently called the Cardsharp Sonata.

In this game, players start with a full deck of cards and as you play, that deck will run down. When the deck ends, there is a climactic moment of panic as one of the characters is going to do something stupid and get themselves (and maybe everyone else) killed.

I got a chance to play this game with the creator last year and it really delivered! This Ship Is No Mother was originally designed as a way to run Mothership scenarios using a narrative system, with a time limit built in due to the fact that it uses cards instead of dice. You’ll use cards as resources, and since there’s only so many in the deck, you’ll run out of them one way or another. If you like suspense and alien horror, this is definitely worth checking out.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Koboldly Go, by CoffeeSnake Studios.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper.

Something is Wrong With the Chickens, by Elliot Davis.

The Great Soul Train Robbery, by Cloven Pine Games.

Faewater, by A Smouldering Lighthouse.

[lyscot-blog]

Dwarves are not meant for magic

Specifically in the case of Dungeon Meshi (but also some other high fantasy media).

The lowest energy limit out of all the races, and ears, so sensitive that teleportation magic will spin them to nausea. Built to stay far away from magic, either by fear, hatred or the unknown.

That is unfortunate.

I love Senshi and Marcille bond. I hate the idea that dwarves and elves are forever incompatible. Gimli and Legolas should prove people otherwise. Yet the two races are always going to be separated unless a human comes between them. War and argument will always happen for these two races (in media I read of course).

But I love to be proved wrong, that yes, dwarves and elves can be friends. Senshi and Marcille began as two statues never moving from their position. The pragmatic and wise Senshi vs the wary and knowledgeable Marcille. Marcille grows to trust Senshi and find comfort in his food (whether she likes it or not). Senshi develop an open mind to methods, knowledge and bond that he would never have encountered have he not met Marcille (and the group!). Senshi, who trust his own mind to let him survive and escape out of the dark and bloody magical dungeon. Finds trust in magic for the first time (it seems).

Senshi finds trust in someone that he should not trust. Even if proven right that magic is outright dangerous and Marcille will go power hungry, he still cares.

Chapter 14 of Dungeon Meshi is one of my favorite, I will not go into further details but spoilers warning ahead. At the end of the chapter, Senshi finds comfort in magic, not usage, but comfort. To be given a new experience by his friend, an elf. Surely moving forward into the manga, Senshi trusts Marcille on magic and can even find them practical. But Senshi can never emulate his friend because Dwarves are not meant for magic.

But, what if under desperation, there is no possible way to ignite fire, the fire circle that Marcille use would be useful right? Crossing a kelpie infested river, surely waterwalk would feel nice, right? Senshi is stubborn but he likes to adapt and learn, but it's sad that he could not for magic.

In the world of Dungeon Meshi, your friend, the dwarf wants to learn what you do, magic. But they could not even if they want to. A dwarf who dreams of becoming a mage is ridiculous, it's a pipe dream, it's unfortunate. But low magic affinity does not mean there is no magic affinity. Your friend, the dwarf just has to work harder than others, but even so the ceiling might just be lower than their height.

But do imagine a dwarf mage and the potential it can bring. The obvious would be the detection of precious ores in mines and the crafting of magical weapons (a sweet deal to adventurers alike!). But do also imagine, the dwarf crafting earpiece for teleportation. They can come together to provide guides and methods for those who are struggling with learning magic or for dwarves who are unknown to magic. But most importantly, seeing that the stubbornness of dwarves are as stubborn as elves. The rocky stronghold of dwarves was carved from the same ground that grows the fortress of elves.

Dwarves in general are not meant for magic, but some (one in a million) are.

[ae-neon]

rewrite drabble for practice because I've forgotten how to write 😕

☆

Farrow, or what was left of it, sat almost half a day's ride north of Ironhill.

From what Nesta had told her, there'd once been a dozen hamlets between the Gates and the ancient fortress their town had grown around. Feyre had ventured deep enough into the Blackwood and seen the remains of long abandoned strongholds to know it was true.

But this...

All around her evidence of the people of Farrow persisted in visceral detail: their clothes and blood, their broken and torn bodies, their still smoking homes. So different from the stone shells littered in the forest, from the faceless ghosts of the past.

Bile rose in her throat. Next to her Isaac eased his own nausea, drawing a deep, shaky breath. Neither of them could afford to show weakness under Nolan's hawkish gaze.

They'd been the ones to bring forward the old man whose head wound was bleeding through his makeshift wrappings.

"A survivor," Lord Nolan said.

"By the Mercy of the Nameless," Mayor Beddor breathed and in contrast to Nolan, dismounted his horse to grasp the old man by the arm and shoulder, steadying his frail frame, "Tell us what you saw, sir."

The old man's mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, like the words struggled to journey from his mind to his lips. Feyre had seen her father do the same during his bad spells, had seen Elain patiently coax the words from him, sometimes carrying on one-sided conversations simply so he was not ignored.

Nolan had no such patience. "Speak." He commanded.

The old man found his voice, body trembling, "F-f-fae. Mon-monsters, sir. Ca-Came down the mountain...in, in, in the night."

Mayor Beddor, still half cradling the man, glanced at Nesta, still atop her horse. She met his gaze with equal measure.

Feyre had some idea of the delicate balance the Mayor had been trying to keep between the nobles and trade merchants for control of Ironhill.

As an recruit, and more importantly as someone without the means to warrant importance, Feyre felt her own position was clear. Under the guard, Nolan would give her a gun and with it she would earn enough not to just put clothes on their backs and food in their bellies but enough for paint and paper, enough that she and Nesta might build a dowry for Elain.

Which made Nesta's ambivalence all the more frustrating, still uselessly clinging to some notion of aristocracy, a long gone idea of wealth and the hope of something more.

Hope, a cold bitterness gripped Feyre as her eyes once again took in the ruins of Farrow, what a foolish thing.

-

In the beginning of acotar it's said that Fae come through the Wall and wipe out whole villages overnight. This raises some serious questions for me but fuck it, let's humor the idea.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Writing Game 1.9: Enthralled

Prompt: Enthralled Pairing: Joel Miller/Jason Grace

Joel sits back, glaring at the younger man. The campfire they lit crackles, the stone semicircle they stacked around it keeping it from smoking.

"Are we gonna talk about it?" The last thing Joel wants is to talk, but he needs answers.

"No." The man growls.

Joel lets out a sigh of irritation. "You brought down a goddamn bolt of lightning like you're goddamn Jesus and we're not gonna talk about it?"

"That's about the size of it."

"Boy..."

"I'm thirty-six, don't call me 'boy.'"

"Then tell me what the hell is going on, damn you!" Joel's nostrils flared, his eyes wide. "If you're some kind of lightningrod, I can't bring you back to Jackson."

Jason laughs without mirth. "I can control it. It's... inherited. From my father. My sister could do it too."

"Lightning... powers?"

"Yeah." Jason runs a hand through his shaggy hair. "I didn't mean to use it, but... the clickers would have killed you. I was out of bullets."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. You fished me out of that river. Saved me. So... you're all I've got. You and Ellie."

"Anybody else... like you?

Jason looks up into the thickly clouded sky. "There used to be. Before. Hopefully they're hidden away, in fortresses and strongholds. But I'm not."

Joel hands him his glasses. "You've been through hell before. Haven't you?" It's not a question.

"Yeah. A lot of hells. Way, way Before. My dad needed a lot of... help."

The clouds suddenly flash and release a peal of thunder. Jason hardly reacts. They fall silent for a moment until the rain begins. Jason blinks as he stares straight up, enthralled by the droplets on his skin. He starts to cry, startling Joel a little.

"I'm alone, Joel. I've lost everyone, and it wasn't even to anything I thought I'd die to - it was to some fucking plague!"

Joel growls, trying to ignore the downpour. "You have us. You saved my life with that... lightning bolt. You've saved my girl's life plenty of times. I'm not gonna forget that."

Jason looks at him. There was something vulnerable in his gaze, and Joel gives a deep growl. He had always valued action over words. So he reaches out and draws Jason into a fierce hug. "Don't make me regret this, boy."

He holds him tight as the rain soaks them through to the skin, and just maybe washes away some of the pain of the last twenty years.

"I ain't leavin. Me and my girl, we're your family now. Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah..." Jason trembles, finally melting into the embrace.

"Let's get back to Jackson, okay? Can you move?"

They make their way away through the rain, finally realizing that they were heading home...

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (35)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, swearing and being a bitch ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she felt so fulfilled, so free, as in the fortress of which she was now lady. Harrenhal, though at first grim and grey, when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds seemed to her to be some ancient keep. By her and her husband's orders, their belongings from King's Landing and Dragonstone were brought to the stronghold in great carts.

She ordered new furniture made of wood for them − great ornate oak bookcases to fill with their books, desks and chests for their garments, and something that filled her with particular joy − a cradle for their child, something that reminded her and her husband every day that they were expecting their offspring.

To her delight, she found that although in the company of Baela, the guards and the servants, her husband was harsh, the moment they were left alone in his quarters his demeanour and voice softened.

He no longer closed his mind, exchanging his thoughts with her as he had when they were children, discussing with her current affairs.

She felt that at last there was no resentment between them − their frequent and intense intimacy was proof to her that they both wanted this marriage and what it brought with it, that being next to each other was in itself an aim for them.

Her husband began to see the pleasurable value of her achieving fulfilment − he took delight and satisfaction in her moans, in driving her to the brink of madness, in knowing every bit of her naked body perfectly.

His closeness, him deep inside her, his mouth licking and sucking her puffy bud, his fingers invading between her tight slit had become something natural to her, something craved, and each fulfilment in his arms calmed her.

Encouraged by his openness in these matters and the fact that his attentive approach was helping her to discover her own femininity, she decided not to remain indebted to him, wanting to know that she appreciated his efforts and was able to repay him.

The echoes of Alys' words about what men desire deep down had taken root in her heart as a significant piece of advice. She decided to slowly explore how her husband and his body would respond to her touch, to her caresses, to her involvement.

At first, she merely brushed and sucked the skin of his neck as he lay on top of her in the tight embrace of their bodies, moving lazily inside her with his face snuggled into her hair. She felt a shudder run through his body, his breath became heavier, his cock pulsed inside her greedily betraying what he was thinking.

"− ah −" He breathed out, sinking his fingers into her cheek, pressing her closer, encouraging her not to stop, her hands squeezing his firm buttocks making goosebumps appear on his skin.

She discovered, to her amazement, that his nipples were also very sensitive − the first time she licked them and clung to them, sucking on them with a hum, letting him pound into her with deep, sloppy thrusts, she heard him gasp, surprised and bewildered.

"− what − mghm − fuck −" He muttered, a helpless, low groan of pleasure escaping his throat as the tip of her tongue swirled around it. He became more vocal, panting hard, clenching his fingers in her hair, pressing her to his chest as his painfully swollen cock opened her little cunt with the impatient, sharp pushes of his hips.

His fulfillments were longer and stronger than ever before − he moaned and panted exactly as she did, ashamed in a way of his helplessness and what he was letting her do to him.

He pretended when it was all over that nothing had happened, and she didn't discuss it with him, letting him keep up the pretence that everything was as it had been before.

Their intimacy was simply pleasurable and natural to them, so they each pursued it relentlessly, treating it as a wordless expression of their affection, the eternal longing and closeness they needed.

Much to her husband's displeasure, Baela decided to stay in Harrenhal longer after what had happened.

"I sent a letter to Dragonstone. I described to father what had happened." She said, looking at her fingers thoughtfully − the two of them were sitting under one of the trees near the fortress, wanting to get some fresh air during the sunny day.

While her husband did not approve of her leaving their chamber in his absence, fearing for her and their child, he did agree that she should do so in the company of Baela, which she did.

She looked at her cousin, horrified.

"What? Gods, was that necessary?" She muttered, imagining in the back of her mind how horrified her mother would be at the word that someone had tried to poison her, and that she would surely insist that she return to Dragonstone. Baela sighed heavily.

"I promised my father that I would be there for you and I will keep him informed of what is happening here." She explained, shrugging her shoulders.

She looked at her with a smirk, stroking her slightly rounded abdomen with her palm.

"Are you his spy?"

The corner of Baela's mouth lifted in a smile.

"Yes. He told me to watch how your uncle treats you, and though I have no sympathy for him, only a fool would fail to see that his intentions towards you are sincere." She replied, her face sad and tired. She blinked, seeing that something had been bothering her for some time.

She figured she wasn't returning to Dragonstone for more than just her reason.

"Has something happened? You can tell me."

"Should I complain to you about your brother? That doesn't sound fair." She muttered, taking a small white stone from the ground, turning it between her fingers.

"He's my brother, but I know his nature. You can tell me what troubles you. I will not judge you." She assured her, wanting her to know that she had no bad intentions.

Baela pressed her lips together and nodded − her eyes reddened as she swallowed hard and looked away, shrugging her shoulders.

"I have a lover here. One of the guards."

She blinked, looking at her in disbelief, not knowing for a moment what to say.

"Oh."

"We promised each other we'd both stop doing this before I came here. But I can't. I don't love him. Not in that way. I mean −" She choked out and fell silent, swallowing hard, trying with all her might to stay calm and not cry.

"− I mean − we don't fit together − he's important to me, close to my heart, but − I've only now realised, looking at you, that it's impossible to change a man's nature −" She said and clenched her eyelids, bitter, hot tears of shame running down her face, which she covered with her hands, as if she was terrified by what had just come out of her mouth.

"− gods, what have I done −" She mumbled out, whooping with her crying − her hand quickly rose to her back, stroking it reassuringly.

She didn't know what to say, what to do, what she could advise her in such a situation.

She swallowed hard, feeling the discomfort and pain, understanding in a way what she meant, yet feeling pity in her heart for her brother, not knowing if he would be able to take any more rejection.

"− did − did Jace −"

"− he did the same thing − in Winterfell, with that Snow girl, that whore, that fucking bastard −" She hissed, wiping her cheeks hot with rage.

"− I lied at the time that I was also having an affair with a guard to hurt him − to make him feel what it's like when someone fucks someone else behind your back −"

She only blinked at her words, horrified at how it looked like, that neither of them were faithful to each other.

Baela looked at her quickly and shook her head, as if she only now realised what she had said.

"− forgive me − I didn't mean − I didn't mean to offend you −" She muttered quickly, looking at her with big eyes.

"− no, no − I just − you surprised me − I mean − I didn't suspect it was that bad −"

"− me too − until I flew here and was left alone with my doubts and thoughts −" She stated after a moment of thoughtfulness, wiping her nose with the top of her hand, trying to calm her breathing.

"− I realised − watching you throw yourself into his arms when we arrived here − he didn't even see me − your husband − it was your moment, your reconciliation − and I don't even miss him − I don't think about him, even though I should − I feel really free and lonely here at the same time − I just would like to love and be loved like you −"

Her cousin whispered, and she embraced her and hugged her forehead to her temple, stroking her back reassuringly − Baela broke into tears and cuddled her face into her neck, trying to hide from her thoughts and what she herself was feeling.

For some reason, her words had ripped her heart apart.

Her thoughtfulness and despondency did not escape her uncle's attention when they were left alone after their supper together. Finally only in her nightgown, she lay down on the bed and sighed − his gaze immediately followed her.

"What is it?"

She looked up at him, snapped out of her reverie.

"Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"About Baela."

He blinked and hummed under his breath, looking towards the fire, spreading himself comfortably in his chair.

"Why?"

She didn't know how much she should tell him, but she needed advice.

She had no idea what to do.

"She doesn't love my brother and I don't think he loves her. Not the way one loves a wife or a husband."

"Mmm."

"I don't know what to advise her."

"Don't advise her anything. Don't interfere in their affairs. Your intervention will only make things worse. Let them resolve it between themselves. In your condition, you should not focus on such matters and take on someone else's infidelity." He replied dryly, and she looked at him surprised, furrowing her brows.

"How do you know about infidelity?" She muttered, and he threw her a long, bored look.

"I caught them in the act. He fucked her instead of guarding your chamber in my absence. I wanted to shame him and reprimand him, but when I saw Baela, I gave up. The humiliation was punishment enough for both of them." He sneered, tapping his index finger against the armrest, sitting in profile to her.

She felt a cold sweat on the back of her neck at the thought that he had not shared this knowledge with her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her husband looked at her sternly.

"Because I don't play in spreading rumours in the court. Other people's promiscuity is not worth burdening my wife, who is expecting my child, with it. She is a grown woman. If her father or her mother couldn't raise her properly, you won't be able to either."

"Do not speak of her like this. She is suffering deeply."

"And she is finding comfort." He replied coldly. "I don't want to hear it."

"If your mother had forced you to marry Maris Baratheon instead of me. Would you have taken me into your bed?" She asked, looking at him expectantly.

He threw her a quick, surprised look, not expecting this question completely.

"− I −"

"− answer honestly −"

"− I don't know the answer to that question −"

"− your answer according to good manners should be: no −"

"− it's not the same thing −"

"− it's exactly the same, Aemond − I understand what you mean, but judgements have no power when we can't judge ourselves as harshly −"

"− I wouldn't be fucking proud of it or brag about it to my cousins −"

"− she didn't brag, she despaired − she regrets it but doesn't know what to do −"

Her husband clenched his jaw and bowed his head, burying his face in his hand.

"− I will not concern myself with her betrothal and I expect her to stay away from my marriage − I advise you to do the same −" He said dryly, rising from his seat, undoing the buckles of his emerald tunic with an impatient motion.

She swallowed hard, playing with her fingers, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her stomach clenched in discomfort.

She knew that part of her heart was agreeing with him, but she didn't want to admit it.

When he finally lay down beside her, putting his eye patch down on the table beside the bed, they were both silent for a long moment. She didn't push him away, however, when his hand went to her lower abdomen, a tender, calm, circular motion of his fingers stroking the place. She sighed quietly, placing her hand over his, feeling her anger slowly begin to leave her.

"− isn't that what you expect from me? − honesty? −" He asked in a hoarse voice. She looked up at him, meeting the calm, warm yet dark gaze of his healthy eye. She nodded and moved closer to him, their foreheads touching.

"− yes −" She whispered. As his hand slid to her waist she let him to embrace her, his arms snuggling her into his body, allowing her to take refuge at his side from the gloomy thoughts that flitted through her head.

However, the next day something happened that she had not anticipated.

Her brother arrived in Harrenhal at the behest of their mother.

The mood was tense, to put it mildly. The distance between Baela and Jace was palpable and, as they were not married, her uncle had assigned them separate quarters.

He was furious.

"I don't want him here. Let him take his betrothed and get the fuck back to Dragonstone." He hissed in her direction, walking around their chamber like an enraged lion, breathing heavily.

She stood watching him with her heart in her throat not knowing what to do.

"We can't just send him away, my mother might become suspicious. Let him stay a day or two and then…"

"− good gods −" He breathed out, burying his face in his hands at her words, as if trying not to explode. He finally sat down in the chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staying in that position for a moment.

She approached him slowly and knelt in front of him with a quiet rustling of her gown, grabbing his upper arm, exposing his face − she met the look of his eye, frustrated and tired.

"− I know − I know, my love − I'll try to resolve it somehow, but give me time to think −" She muttered, wanting him to understand that all this was not her desire, that also all she dreamt of was holy peace for them and their child.

Her uncle sighed heavily, looking away, clearly inconsolable by her words. She knew he wanted to add something else, but fell silent when he felt her hand on his knee, traveling up to his thigh. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, tense, his lips parted slightly.

He shuddered as her fingers slid between his legs, stroking gently and teasing what was beneath them. His manhood pulsed hard in his breeches under her touch, and then again and again, swelling and hardening from those gentle, innocent caresses.

She heard his breath become heavier, his hand slipped into her hair, stroking her head, betraying what he was thinking about what was about to happen.

How she wanted to compensate him.

Her nimble fingers untied the material of his breeches, spreading it to the side, revealing his half-hard, throbbing erection. She leaned down, stroking it in her palm, placing soft, butterfly kisses on the area where his veins were clearly outlined, barely brushing his bare skin.

She heard an exasperated sigh escape his lips, his hips involuntarily bucked towards her, pressing his twitching, long cock against her face, searching for the source of the rubbing.

She knew he was looking at her, and that he derived an unspeakable satisfaction from the sight before him.

She gasped at the thought, wanting to give him everything he could possibly want, and following Alys' instructions, she decided to take her time − the tip of her tongue traveled from the base of it to the very tip of his length, swelling more and more in her hand, she heard him tilt his head back, feeling and seeing it.

"− fuck −"

Her hand clamped down on the base of his root, giving him a few encouraging, soft squeezes, meant only to tease him, its tip turning all pink and hard, moist from his own wetness.

"− warm me up −" He muttered. "− it's a chilly evening −"

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at his words, sticky from her moisture, knowing what he wanted.

She directed the fat, glistening head of his cock against her lips, sliding it in a little, licking it encouragingly − his two hands clamped down on her hair, the soft, gentle thrust of his hips sliding it deep into her mouth, its tip bumping against the back wall of her throat.

"− so eager to taste my seed − ah − barely fits −" He exhaled, keeping his fingers clenched in her hair, thrusting between her lips as he saw fit, slowly and reverently, making her feel safe even though he was in complete control of what was happening.

Each time he slid deep into her throat again with a lewd click of her saliva, she teased his entire length with her moist tongue, licking it and sucking it inside, squeezing it so that a low, throaty moan came out of him again and again.

"− I could watch it all day − your pretty mouth full of my cock −" He gasped, and she hummed, squeezing the base of his erection that didn't fit in her mouth with her hand.

She moved her head up and down, feeling the tears of exertion begin to run down her cheeks each time the tip of his manhood hit the back of her throat, making her gag, breathing loudly through her nose to keep from suffocating.

"− fuck, you are too good at this −" He mumbled as if he were in pain, the chair he was sitting on began to creak loudly as his hips quickened their pace, his breath raspy and shallow. His manhood began to twitch and throb between her lips betraying that he was embarrassingly close to fulfilment as her hot tears rolled down her cheeks one by one.

"− don't stop − please, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop −" He panted, gripping her hair tightly in his hands, not letting her escape the deep, greedy thrusts of his hips, making her whimper with exertion.

Something in the sounds he was making, boyish and charming, in his helplessness, in how much he wanted to feel vulnerable at least for a moment, made her feel her sticky wetness running down her thigh, her swollen slit pulsing around nothing.

"− I know − I know, please, I know − uh,gods,fuckkk −" He gasped, a low groan mixed with a sigh of relief broke from his lips as his body went breathless all over and his warm spend spilled deep into her warm throat. She swallowed the first wave with difficulty and jumped up along with him as the door to his chamber opened suddenly, startling them.

She slid his manhood out of her mouth with a loud splat, covering her face to avoid screaming and choking at the same time, some of his seed staining his breeches.

Her figure kneeling before him was covered only by the ornate oak desk standing before her.

"Your Grace. Shall supper be prepared in this chamber with Prince Jacaerys and Lady Baela included?" The servant asked, and she swallowed loudly, trying not to make a sound, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

"− I − yes −" Her uncle muttered in a shaky voice, trying to keep his voice cool and hide the fact that he had just came, and his wife was kneeling in front of his untied breeches.

When the servant left her husband closed his eye and breathed out loud, leaning his head against the backrest, pale. She pressed her lips together at the sight, wiping her cheeks wet with tears of exertion, trying not to laugh.

He looked at her after a moment with resentment, as if it was her fault and sighed through his nose, frustrated to see the look on her face.

"− you and your wise ideas −"

"− don't you wish your wife to reassure you in this way? −" She asked softly, placing her chin on his knee, smiling contentedly. Her uncle sighed heavily − clearly something about the sight he saw before him made him content, because his hand rose to her head and stroked her soft hair in a lazy manner.

"− make sure the door from my chamber is locked next time −"

Even though she knew he was still unhappy about her brother's arrival, her treatments, whatever he thought of them, calmed him and made him accept his presence temporarily.

Baela and Jace walked into the chamber in silence and took their seats at a distance from each other − Baela sat opposite her as usual, with her uncle to her left, but her brother did not take the seat next to her − he sat on the opposite top of the table, facing her husband.

She knew this was some kind of challenge to him, her uncle's lips pressed together in a thin line, in his gaze something she knew perfectly well.

Impatience.

The servants tasted all the food and drink in their presence before the table was set. Her husband let them go when everything was ready, wanting to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"How are you feeling, sister?" Jace asked, putting the roast on his plate and tearing a piece of bread, but not giving it to Baela, who held out her hand to him.

She threw a quick glance at her uncle, who was watching her with a look that told her he was thinking the same thing she was.

Something was about to happen.

She swallowed loudly at the piece of pate she had just had in her mouth and sipped it with the apple juice the maester had prepared for her, telling her that she should avoid wine until after the birth.

She grunted, correcting herself in her seat.

"I am well, brother." She replied softly.

"I hope your daughter is born healthy." He said lowly, taking a sip of wine from his goblet.

She felt a cold sweat on her back at his words, looking up at her husband in horror, seeing on his face exactly what she had feared − a wide, dangerous grin not reaching his eye, his gaze cold and frightening.

"− Jace −" Baela hissed.

Her brother shook his head, frowning his eyebrows, feigning surprise, taking a bite of the roast into his mouth.

"− what is it, my love? − wouldn't my uncle love his daughter? − or would he be afraid that he would do to her what he did to his own niece? −"

"− how dare you −" She asked in disbelief, wanting to tell her brother that he was an insolent fool and that he should leave at once, however, her husband forestalled her.

"− your betrothed told you that she fucked one of my guards? − is that why you are acting like a cunt? −" He chuckled in a way from which a cold shiver ran through her, her heart in her throat. She glanced at Baela, who froze, staring dully into her plate, breathing heavily.

A terrible, uncomfortable silence fell around them that seemed to last an eternity − she didn't even know when she clenched her hands into fists.

"− yes, she did − but how could you know this, uncle? − did she lie in bed with you too? −" He asked mockingly, she and Baela cast quick, terrified glances at each other.

"− that's enough −" She hissed.

"− no − my nephew deserves the truth −" He grinned, and Baela rose from her seat, knowing what he wanted to say.

"− SIT THE FUCK DOWN −" Her husband growled in her direction. They both threw him shocked glances, his gaze expressing, however, that he was completely serious and if she left, blood would be shed.

Baela sat back in her seat, all quivering.

"− I caught her in the act − she was so preoccupied with him, or, I beg your pardon, with what he was putting into her, that she didn't notice me at first − I just wished to reprimand my guard − he was supposed to keep my wife safe, not −"

"− I said enough, husband −" She said, looking at him warningly.

He knew that look and what it meant.

That one more word out of his mouth and he would spend the night in his chamber alone.

He turned his head and fell silent, looking involuntarily at her brother with a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

"− did you know? −" She heard Jace's voice pointed in her direction and she looked at him, surprised.

Her brother was looking at her all red, something in his gaze that surprised her.

"− did you know about this? −"

She felt an overpowering, deep, hot shame at the thought that she could not deny.

"− you're my sister − we promised each other we'd both end this − she deceived me − why do you forever let to make a fool of me? − why do you never stand up for me? −" He muttered in a voice filled with regret.

She was horrified by the realisation, which came upon her suddenly, that he was partly right.

If her husband had betrayed her with another woman, wouldn't she expect her brother to tell her?

That he would have shown her concern, warned her, protected her from the pain?

She lowered her gaze to her plate, feeling tears under her eyelids herself. Jace got up and walked out, followed by Baela, who only muttered a brief, tentative apology.

One by one, tears began to run down her cheeks as soon as the door closed behind them − she had to hide her face in her hands to keep from bursting into sobs.

She heard her husband sigh heavily, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, the pleasant sizzle of a fire burning in the fireplace behind him. She heard him pick something up and move it towards her − when she lowered her hands she noticed it was a tray of lemon cakes.

That summer day when she came to comfort him, a lemon cake tucked into the pocket of her skirt.

"− eat −"

"− I don't want to −"

"− eat − these are your favourites − I ordered them to be prepared with you in mind −"

"− I don't want to eat lemon cakes now, Aemond − I −"

"− it's easier for him to blame you than himself − to accuse you in his mind instead of taking responsibility for his actions −"

She snorted, shaking her head, looking at him with regret.

"− didn't you also behave similarly to him until recently, uncle? −" She asked in a trembling voice. Her husband swallowed hard and closed his eye, remaining silent for a moment. When his eyelid opened, his gaze was already calmer.

"− I did −"

As he placed his hand on the table top, extending it towards her she felt a squeeze in her heart, because even though he had made so many mistakes and hurt her so much, for her he had truly made an effort.

There was no reason for her to pretend otherwise.

She lifted her hand uncertainly and placed it on his. Her husband hummed under his breath, stroking her skin with his thumb, pleased apparently that she had not rejected him, that after moments of anger they were able to calm and speak with each other.

Something in that thought touched her.

"I love you." She muttered, looking up at him from under her lashes on which her tears shone.

Her uncle looked at her with wide-open eye, as if snapped out of his reverie, shocked even though he had heard these words from her mouth before.

"I mean it. I really do. I'm not speaking of the cloying affection described in the books I read as a child. What I feel is painfully real."

She saw his nostrils twitch at her words, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows arched in a way as if he was trying to fight what he had just felt.

His lips parted, but nothing came out of them for a long time.

"− I didn't reply to your letters because I didn't want you to move on − because I didn't want you to forgive yourself − because I didn't want you to forget about me − because I couldn't move on − because I couldn't forgive myself − because I couldn't forget about you −"

He said, looking at their hands, stroking her soft, warm skin with his fingers, at the same time being somewhere far away, as if he had returned with his thoughts to that evenings when he had read her letters.

Her heart filled with heat and pain at his words, at his confession, which was proof to her that both of them had only been pretending all along, trying to preserve their dignity by not accepting their longing, grief and desires all these years.

Only when they were left in the darkness of his chamber could their true reconciliation have happened.

There was something beautiful to her in the fact that they only hugged each other that night. Her husband, lying behind her, embraced her waist, their fingers entwined together lying on her womb. She felt safe sensing closeness of his body, his warm breath enveloping her bare neck.

Though with others he remained the same cold, cruel, mocking man, with her he became who he had been eight years ago, being the husband and companion she had always seen in him.

Baela set off on her way back to Dragonstone the next morning, informing her that she and Jace had broken off their betrothal. She wished to inform her grandmother and father about it, knowing that they would not force her to do anything against her will.

They said goodbye as if they were friends, hugging each other tightly, however, apart from her, neither her husband nor her brother came out to bid her farewell.

To her husband's frustration, her brother remained in their fortress. He ate his suppers separately and hardly left his chamber, but his mere presence made her uncle lose patience.

Although she didn't want to do it, she had to act.

With a heavy heart and trepidation, she went to his quarters, however, to her surprise, she did not find him there. She left, looking around the corridor and stopped one of the servants.

"Where is my brother?" She asked, the young boy turned behind and pointed his finger at the other, less frequented part of the stronghold.

"In Alys Rivers’ chamber, Your Grace."

She looked at this young boy wondering if she had misheard herself.

What?

"By what right does anyone visit Alys Rivers without my knowledge?' She hissed, feeling a squeeze in her throat at the thought that, apart from her guards, no one was to cross the threshold of her quarters until she left Harrenhal.

Her cousin had delayed answering her letter, surely still feeling humiliated after the way he had learned that their betrothal was not in force.

However, she knew he would eventually succumb and intended to send Alys away to the Eyrie anyway.

The boy swallowed hard at her words, surprised.

"− I − the Prince said you personally gave your consent, Your Grace − how would I question his words? −" He muttered, and she clenched her eyelids and nodded.

"− go for him and bring him to his chamber − tell him that I will be waiting for him there −"

Indeed, not long after, her brother joined her in his rooms, closing the door behind him, looking at her uncertainly, his brow furrowed.

"− what's it? −"

She stood up from her chair, turning her face towards the window, trying to calm her breath, her hand on her womb.

"− Alys Rivers − I didn't allow you to see her −"

"− she's my aunt − I don't need your permission, sister −" He replied dryly.

She looked at him angrily, walking up to him, looking him straight in the eye.

His gaze seemed distant and empty to her, filled with bitterness, sadness and pride.

She knew that look because she had seen it sometimes in their uncle's eyes.

He was broken.

Something in that thought made her close her eyes, trying to regain her composure.

"− she's a dangerous woman − I value her, but she manipulates others easily −"

"− I know I am easily manipulated − I have found that out painfully on my own −" He said calmly. "− is that all? −"

"− is that why you are not returning to Dragonstone? − because of her? −" She asked, turning to follow him as he moved ahead of her and spread out comfortably on his bed, taking an apple in his hand from a silver bowl standing on the table, tossing it thoughtlessly.

"− maybe −"

"− why? −"

"− she tells me about our father − about Harrenhal − about her dreams −" He muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling, playing with the fruit between his fingers, thoughtful.

Something in his words, in the fact that, like her, he longed deep down to understand where he came from, made her heart fill with compassion and empathy towards him again.

She approached him slowly and sat beside him on the bed, bowing her head. For a moment they remained in complete silence.

"− forgive me − for not telling you − Baela despaired greatly and regretted what she had done, but it could no longer be taken back − I am not going to defend her − she did, however, tell me that you had not remained faithful to her either − that you had lain in bed with another woman in Winterfell −"

Jace pressed his lips into a thin line at her words, tossing the apple high into the air, catching it in his hand again with a loud smack.

"− did she also tell you that she had a lover herself at the time? −"

"− she told me that she lied to you at the time so that you wouldn't see how much you hurt her −" She whispered, her brother throwing her a quick, horrified look. She saw him swallow hard and close his eyes.

"− it doesn't matter anymore −"

Silence fell between them again.

"− I want to admit, however, that there was a grain of truth in your words − I want to support you, but I feel that whatever I don't do, you will reject me −" She muttered.

"− you are the one who has always rejected me −"

His words stabbed into her heart like a dagger.

"− forgive me −" She said.

Her brother let out a loud breath, his eyes red.

"− I want to take her to Dragonstone −"

"− who? −"

"− Alys Rivers − I want her to see something beyond Harrenhal −"

His words surprised her so much that the obvious question crossed her mind.

"− Jace − did you and her −"

"− if you desire the truth so much, let's call a spade a spade − I'm a bastard, just like her − I live in a great fortress, eating from silver trays, while she is locked up here like some prisoner − how is she different from us? − what did she do to deserve a fate so worse than mine or yours? −"

He asked with a fury that startled her, his words, so direct and bold, made her feel overwhelming shame.

How is she different from us?

What did she do to deserve a fate so worse than mine or yours?

She swallowed hard, not knowing what to answer, how to react to his words.

"− but what will our mother say? −"

"− I will gladly introduce our father's sister to her −"

"− Jace −"

"− I've decided − I, not you − I take responsibility for this −"

She lowered her gaze, feeling that her hands were trembling all over with terror, her brother, however, seemed confident in his decision.

"− I'm leaving tomorrow and I'm taking our aunt with me −"

______

Author's note: No, Jace did not sleep with Alys, lol. In case this is not clear from the chapter, I would like to add it so that you do not panic unnecessarily. The next chapter will be Alys' POV, so you'll find out everything there!

[idkjustletmescroll]

As a girl eagerly counting down the days until July 26th, I've made up a list of shit I want to see happen in season 6 of the dragon prince that I do in fact expect everyone to care about:

1: Janaya janaya janaya janaya I just love themmmm (buuuttt they both have to stay alive).

2: Speaking of janaya, i know there's a chance we get a wedding this season, which i wouldn't be opposed to. If we kept humans and elves as the main conflict like we did in the first three seasons, I'd say they should have it at the end of the show, but it feels more like aaravos vs the dragaang at this point, which...

3: More characters with more to do! In the first dragon prince, we had a bunch of minor characters (the other monarchs, prince kasef, opeli and corvus, nyx, ethari, a shit ton of soldiers, etc.), do things that affected our main characters in plenty of ways, which made it feel like there was a whole world out there being affected. Now, it's not that there are NO side characters affecting the main plot, it just feels so centered on the aaravos plot. I feel like they should have kept a bit more "elves and humans need to unite and move forward to defeat aaravos" but it's fine. I still like the show.

4: Rayllum making up. Not necessarily in a romantic relationship, though I would EAT THAT UP if it happened, but, if they haven't gotten back into their romantic relationship by the end of season 6, they should clearly be well on their way there, and we should know how they both feel about it.

5: De-coining. They've been trapped in there long enough.

6: I kind of want to see viren well and truly dead, just because of the downward SPIRAL it would send my girl claudia into. But I also feel like he has more to offer? I know we have a clip of him doing SOMETHING this season, but that could be a flashback. Idk. I feel like him voluntarily giving up power, and his own life, was a good ending for him, and the way claudia reacts in that first teaser we got definitely makes it seem like he's dead? But I also kind of want him to have a meaningful interaction with the other characters he's affected--rayla, callum, ezran, obviously; I kind of want to see what would happen if he realizes how far gone claudia is, joins the dragaang with the belief that he can save her from aaravos, and somehow meets janai? I feel like they've always had really strong writing for viren, though. So I'm trusting you, tdp writers.

7: Terry turn away from Claudia. This could turn into him trying to sabotage her, straight-up leaving, becoming a double agent, whatever. But he can only delude himself for so long.

8: I want the sunfire elf conflict to end and for them to help fight aaravos (he killed khessa and corrupted lux aurea, okay? They deserve to help beat him). I'd also be fine with them wrapping THAT conflict up somewhere around the middle of season 7, but I don't want them dragging it out all through to the end of it.

9: The key of aaravos should become more important. I get that it was essential to callum figuring out primal magic, but also, we've had it since s1 ep4, and it's still very distinctly in callum's possession. What else is up with this thing?

10: Janaya (again) being badass war generals. We all saw them in the first three seasons, right? Amaya was fully ready to kill a teenager (an elf, but still), in her first episode. And also kicked down a door and won my heart. She threw multiple elves into lava. Janai took over amaya's fortress thing and tried to kill her for a good bit of her screentime (I wish they would emphasize janai being strategic a little more. Like...she would've HAD that stronghold if that soldier didn't start using sign language). THEY led the defense of the storm spire!

11: ANDDD speaking of janaya, one last thing: I want the human soldiers respecting janai, and the sunfire elves recognizing Amaya as their queen. Even just a "your radianceS," plural, or something. She's going to be their queen--consort, i guess, technically, but still. I feel like we haven't gotten a big enough sense of that.

[violettduchess]

Hello, I hope you're having a great day! May I request a HC on how the Vamp suitors would react to MC crying and shaking from a nightmare? 👀 Comte, Vlad, Leonardo and Arthur please!

A/N: Here you go @lusianarendraws 💜

Word Count: 2028

No matter how fast you run, it's right behind you. Something too fast, too dark. Something with curved claws that scrape stone like nails on a chalkboard and mephitic breath scorching your neck. Your feet fly over a street wet with something too thick to be rainwater. Iron stings your nostrils as you suck in air, forcing yourself to keep going. You turn a corner, boots slipping on the slick cobblestones, palms hitting the ground hard to keep you upright. They come up wet and dark. Just another corner, you tell yourself. Just another bend. Your heartbeat pulses in your head, a wild drumbeat that spurs you onwards. There, up ahead. A narrow alley. A place to hide. You summon a burst of energy and propel yourself forward, into the narrow darkness.

And straight into the fetid, gaping maw of the beast.

Comte

 Your sobs wake him almost immediately. There is no remaining sleepiness, no smattering of dreams across his mind. He is alert, present and entirely focused on you in an instant.

He gathers you into the fortress of his arms, murmuring softly in mixed languages that everything is ok. You are safe in your bed. In his arms. You are safe. You are safe. He is here.

His words slowly unhook the nightmare's claws from your mind and you find yourself regaining control. Your breathing slows, regulates. Your heartbeat becomes less panicked. Comte runs his hand over your damp cheeks, then presses a kiss to each one. He waits until you are breathing normally, until your eyes are dry before he speaks again.

"I would like to bring you some tea, chérie. Will you be ok?" His voice is gentle. He strokes the line of your cheekbone, waiting to hear from you.

You look at him, wanting to be brave but your eyes begin watering and he knows any word that isn't "no" is a lie. He hugs you close once more, chastising himself for even considering leaving you.

"Come then, mon amour. We shall make it together." Sliding out of bed, he kneels, lighting the chamberstick he keeps on his nightstand, its small orange light a sudden warm comfort in the shadows. He lifts it and his face is suddenly something divine, the only bright spot in the darkness and you feel your heart lighten in turn, the chains of the nightmare rattling as they break. He holds out his hand and you take it, a lifeline of love and comfort, and together you make your way through the night's shadows to the kitchen.

Vlad

You are pulled from the depths of your nightmare by a voice. It is gentle yet strong, insistent as it raises you out from the darkness and into the soft candlelight of Vlad's bedroom. 

Your dream is still clinging to you like black rainwater, evident in the beating of your heart and the rapid laboring of your lungs. But your sobs are soft, muffled, because you are being cradled against Vlad's chest. Your damp hair is being stroked by his hand.

He holds you to his chest, presses you against his heart, as if its steady rhythm might somehow transfer over to you, like osmosis. In a way, it does. His touch feels like the comfort of warm water, washing over you, washing away the darkness of your nightmare. You feel your body slowly return to itself like a frightened colt soothed by the hands of a loving caretaker. 

When you tilt your head up to look at him, you see a mix of concern and empathy in those rose-colored eyes of his. He asks if you want to talk about it, the dream that disturbed his darling. You shake your head, closing your eyes and curling tighter into the stronghold of his arms.

He kisses your hair, smoothing it down, moving it away from your face with gentle fingers. It feels cold to his touch. “Do you think a warm bath would help, beloved?” Even as he says it, you can already feel the soothing steam wrapping itself around you and smell the rose oil he always adds just for you. Heaven is what it sounds like.

You lean away for a moment, nodding as you lift your hands to his shoulders, fingers curling into the soft linen of his shirt. “It sounds perfect. Especially if you join me.”

His smile chases away the last dregs of cold from your heart. He cups your face in his hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks tenderly. “Of course, my love. If that is what you wish.”

You don’t need words to confirm. You simply lean forward and press a soft kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed. Turning, you hold out your hand and he takes it, allowing you to lead him out of the velvet darkness of the bedroom.

Arthur

“C’mon darling, wake up. Wake up, luv.” A voice reaches through the fog of your nightmare, a small light that grows bigger as the voice gets louder, more insistent. It repeats your name, gently but firmly. You need to wake up, it says. It’s ok. The light grows brighter as your eyes flutter open, leaving the darkness in the recesses of your mind.

You wake to find yourself in bed, Arthur’s concerned blue eyes searching your face. He has your hands in his, fingers roaming your skin, and he is speaking, words of reassurance that continue to scatter the dark, clingy fog. “There’s my girl. There we are. Hello darling.” He brushes back your hair, fingers pressed firmly against the inside of your wrist as he offers you a smile. It takes you a moment to realize he has been keeping track of your pulse.

“Arthur?” A shudder runs through you as you remember those last moments. Satisfied that you are physically alright, he takes both your hands in his and holds them tightly, his summer sky gaze holding yours, grounding you. 

“Right here, darling. You’re alright.” You breathe out slowly, swallowing as you nod. A shaky, fragile laugh escapes your lips as you pull one hand free, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Wow. I’m sorry. That….that was….a pretty awful dream.” 

He twists his bare torso, reaching for the handkerchief folded on his nightstand and then offers it to you. Gratefully you wipe your eyes, blow your nose. You notice the way the light plays off his glossy hair, the muscular lines of his upper body. When did he light the candles? Before he woke you? Did he know you would appreciate the light?

“Care to tell me about it?” His voice is warm with compassion. He is a man who understands the power of nightmares. You look into those eyes again and know that you are safe. You can face it again with him beside you. You nod.

He opens his arms and you fall into them with a sigh. It feels like falling into a soft, freshly-made bed. Safe. Secure. You snuggle up against him and begin describing the dream. He listens, his fingers tracing small, abstract patterns on the arm you have slung over his abdomen. You finally reach the end, the part where you entered the alley and grimace as you explain how the beast was there waiting.

Arthur’s fingers pause as he considers everything you have described. “But what if”, he murmurs thoughtfully, “……in that moment of peril, right when you believed all to be lost….your hands began to glow, a brilliant white like the light of a harvest moon?”

You glance up at his face from the pillow of his chest. He’s got that look in his eye, the one you have seen so many times concentrated on a page when you bring him a cup of coffee or in the evenings with you curled up on his lap as he talks through a scene. He’s writing….a new ending to your dream. 

A surge of love warms you from head to toe and you smile, turning your head to place a tender kiss above his heart. “Go on. Please.” You can feel his satisfaction as he shifts you closer, dropping a kiss to your temple before he speaks. “Well then, this white light…..”

Leonardo

You sit straight up in bed, gasping as you hold a hand to your racing heart. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light. You don’t like Leonardo to leave any candles lit because of the fire hazard. One swish of Lumière’s tail and one of the endless books or parchments or canvases laying around could catch the flame and grow it into something disastrous. Luckily, his room is positioned well enough to catch the moon’s silvery light and tonight it is enough to hold total darkness at bay.

Breathing is difficult. Your lungs feel like they can’t expand enough and your chest burns with the need for air. This adds to the currents of anxiety still running through your veins. You close your eyes, trying to block out the memory of that mouth, those horrible, glistening teeth, the inevitable crunch of your bones as it makes a meal of you.

“Meow!” Lumière has stirred from his spot at the far end of the bed and picked his way across the covers to where you are. He knocks his head against your stomach, demanding your touch. Automatically you begin petting him, his soft, midnight fur soothing under your palms. “Meow!”

“Shhh,” you whisper, voice still rough, throat still tight. But he does not shh. He continues meowing. Loudly. Emphatically. And then the man laying next to you stirs, pushing himself up, one hand sleepily rubbing at his golden eyes. “Cosa sta succedendo?” What’s going on?

Lumière leaps from your lap to his, batting at his arm before stepping back to you. Now fully awake, his eyes adjusted to the wan lighting, he takes one long look at you and concern overtakes his handsome face. “Tesoro, what’s wrong?”

Your lower lip starts to tremble and Lumière leaps out of the way as you tip over and into Leonardo’s arms. His work now done, the feline leaps from the bed and disappears under the desk where he can continue sleeping on his favorite pile of books, undisturbed.

Leonardo clasps you to him, murmuring for you to tell him what happened, his cheek pressed against the top of your head as you recount the nightmare. His embrace tightens as he hears the tremor of fear in your voice and apologies fall from his lips like teardrops. He should have woken up on his own. He should have been there. He is so sorry, cara mia. So sorry.

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face in one hand. He catches it and turns, placing a kiss into your palm. “It’s ok. It’s not your fault. I would have woken you.” The “Tsk” sound he makes at this reveals how well he knows you. You would not have woken him because you would have wanted to be brave and handle it without bothering him.

He presses rapid-fire kisses to your cheeks and your forehead as he whispers that he is here for you, always. You are not a burden and you do not have to deal with these things alone, ya? Let him be there for you. Please. Please–

You cut off his urgent whispers by capturing his mouth with yours, arms curling around his neck. His words have unlocked a need inside you to push away the nightmare. More than push away. To burn it out of your memory, reduce it to nothing but ash. 

You kiss him, a kiss born of heat and need, an electrical fire sparked by his soft words, now spreading out of control. Leonardo may be a logical man, but he is also a man of passion. He knows this is what you need, what you need from him, and he faces the flames of your desire, a man armed not with water but ethanol, ready to help you blaze a new memory into the night.

Tagging 🌜: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @ariamichel @kpop-and-otome

[bard-llama]

WiP Thursday: Extras from the Spirits Made Them Do It Series (AKA Seeds of Change)

Okay, I'm late for WiP Wednesday, but I figured I'd share a few things for the Seeds of Change 'verse. This is gonna be a long post, so I'm sticking it all under a cut.

First, here's the WiP for the next part of Taking Root. (Forgive the formatting - tumblr still sucks on that front)

Zuko knew his day was going to take a downward turn when Zhao’s ship came to harass them, but it was even worse than he’d thought.

Father had made Zhao an Admiral. Father had put Zhao in charge of all operations related to the Avatar. Father had given Zhao the authority to steal every hope Zuko had ever had.

“Don't give up yet,” Uncle murmured, trying to comfort him. “You can still find the Avatar before Zhao.”

“How, Uncle?” Zuko asked despairingly. “With Zhao's resources, it's just a matter of time before he captures the Avatar.” He shook his head. “My honor, my throne, my country,” he paused before he could impulsively add my lover. “I’m about to lose them all.”

“You must not give up hope,” Uncle said softly. “As long as the Avatar remains free, there is still a chance.”

Zuko nodded, but his hopelessness remained. Zhao was going to steal everything from him, he just knew it. So how could he stop it?

He still didn’t have an answer hours later, but they did receive official word that Zhao had captured the Avatar. He had the Avatar locked up tight in the most impenetrable fortress in the Fire Nation – which meant it was all over. It wasn’t like Aang could escape from Pohuai Stronghold, not on his own.

Zuko paused, thinking about that. If – if he needed the Avatar to be free… maybe the answer was to do something unexpected. Something reckless. Something that might end with the Avatar in his grasp.

He swallowed hard, trying to convince himself that he was only going to do this to save his prize. Helping Aang wasn’t his angle, it was a mere side effect. Right?

He’d always been a terrible liar, even when the lies were aimed at himself. Nonetheless, he pretended to believe it. He wasn’t helping Aang. He was just going to ensure that the Avatar was available for him to capture. If it meant fucking Zhao over in the process… well, that was a nice bonus.

—

The escape went great – until it didn’t. Until suddenly Zuko was fighting Fire Nation soldiers. They were trying to kill him, he knew – but nonetheless, he couldn’t bring himself to use lethal tactics. Not when these were his people. 

He still fought hard – but it was kind of looking like that wouldn’t be enough. And then – and then Zhao ordered his men to hold their fire because he needed the Avatar alive, and Zuko was moving before the thought had even occurred to him, crossing his swords in front of the Avatar’s neck.

He tried to ignore the terrified gasp Aang let out, holding steady and glaring at Zhao through his mask.

“Open the gate,” Zhao ordered, the growl in his voice showing his displeasure.

They backed out, Aang shuffling along under his direction, trapped between his body and his swords. It was slow going, but it was starting to look like they could really escape– 

And then something hit his right temple and everything went black.

When he woke up, the blinding pain in his head meant it took him several moments to figure out where he was and what was going on. There were trees above him, faint moonlight filtering through the branches. He was laying on something soft, his torso slightly elevated.

And, he processed belatedly, someone was stroking across his scalp. Which was super weird, but also felt kind of nice, and he was hurting enough that he needed to feel something nice.

“Are you awake?” The Avatar’s upside down face appeared in Zuko’s line of vision and Zuko could do nothing but stare. 

Aang continued to stroke over his head. Why?

…maybe he was dreaming? That seemed likely. Why else would he wake up in the Avatar’s lap?

He was in far too much agony for this to be a dream – but he determinedly ignored that, closing his eyes. If he didn’t acknowledge it, then it didn’t exist, right?

Aang’s gentle touch remained steadily present, and after a moment, he asked, “are you okay?”

Zuko didn’t really know how to answer. He grunted noncommittally. 

“Thank you,” Aang said quietly. “I couldn’t have gotten out of there without you.”

Zuko also didn’t know how to respond to that. He stayed quiet, eyes closed. Aang continued to touch him.

Why?

“I didn’t know you knew how to use swords,” Aang said, “but you were really cool out there, wow!”

Zuko frowned, brow wrinkling in bafflement. Why would the Avatar compliment him?

Why would Aang do any of this?

“How long have you been training with them?” Aang asked. Without waiting for a response – perhaps correctly assuming that he wouldn’t get one – he continued, “I’ve never used swords, but at the Air Temples, we train with staffs. Not for fighting, though, since we’re pacifists. It’s more of like… a dance, I guess?”

Zuko hummed. He’d actually known that from his research on the culture next in the Avatar Cycle. “Like your circle walking,” he found himself saying. 

With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see the surprise on Aang’s face, but it was audible in his voice. “Yeah,” Aang agreed. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’d never actually fought before you, you know? I never needed to before getting frozen.”

The sudden sadness he exuded tugged on Zuko’s heartstrings, but more importantly – “frozen?”

“Oh yeah,” Aang huffed a humorless laugh. “Um. Apparently I somehow got frozen for a hundred years?”

Zuko opened his eyes to stare. “You – what?”

Aang just shrugged. “I dunno. I – I was born a hundred years ago. I lived a hundred years ago. And then…” he trailed off, looking away.

Frowning, Zuko considered that. Of all the possible theories about what had happened to the Avatar, frozen for a century had never crossed his mind. 

“You really are an Air Nomad, then.”

“Yeah,” Aang nodded. “I – I was frozen before my people…”

“Ah.”

They fell silent, words unsaid hanging thick and tense in the air between them.

“How’d you know that?” Aang asked eventually. His fingers had fallen still, just resting against Zuko’s scalp. “About circle walking?”

“Oh.” Zuko flushed. “Um. The – the next Avatar was supposed to be born to the Air Nomads, so…” 

Aang tilted his head in confusion. “Why does that matter?”

Opening his mouth and then closing it silently, Zuko tried to think about how to answer such a bizarre question. Of course it mattered. It was about the Avatar, and the Avatar was the only thing that mattered.

“I’ve… been looking for you for a long time,” he finally settled on.

“How come?”

Again, Zuko had no idea what to say. 

After a long minute, Aang dared to ask, “why do you chase me, Zuko?”

Zuko blinked, not really understanding. “I have to,” he stated the obvious.

“Why?”

“That – those – those are the Fire Lord’s orders,” he managed to say. 

“What do you mean?” Aang asked softly.

Just thinking about that made the pain in Zuko’s head spike and he closed his eyes with a groan, bringing a hand up to rub his unscarred temple. 

Aang caught his wrist before he could reach, and his eyes popped open again to glare.

“You’re badly bruised,” Aang explained. “Your mask deflected the arrow some, I think, but…”

“...arrow?”

“That’s what knocked you out.”

“Oh.” 

“How are you feeling?” Aang asked, and there was real concern in his voice that made no sense.

“Why do you care?” Zuko had to ask.

Furrows appeared over Aang’s arrow. “Why wouldn’t I care?” he asked, sounding genuinely baffled.

Zuko… really didn’t know how to answer that. No one had ever cared before, not except for Uncle. Not without an ulterior motive.

“I like you, Zuko,” Aang said simply.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Aang countered. 

The question left Zuko oddly stumped, and the throbbing behind his eyes made it very difficult to figure out an answer.

Aang’s fingers resumed stroking over Zuko’s head, and it was still super weird, but it was also really, really nice and Zuko couldn’t help but lean into the touch. 

“Can–” Aang started, voice cracking slightly. He paused to clear his throat, then began again. “Can I make you feel good?”

“What!?” Zuko bolted upright – which was a bad move in every way, because oh jeez, his head was not happy with him and the dizziness was not helping things.

“You’re in a lot of pain,” Aang observed, solemn and serious. “I don’t – I don’t know how to help with that. But – but I could try to make you feel good. If – if you wanted.” 

He was flushing by the time he finished speaking, and Zuko couldn’t help the part of him that admired the color on Aang’s cheeks, even as he gaped.

Aang reached out with clearly telegraphed movement to cup Zuko’s cheek, and Zuko wasn’t really sure why he let him, but he did.

Aang’s slow smile in response was beautiful, and the way the calluses on his thumb dragged over Zuko’s skin made Zuko shiver. 

When Aang leaned close, Zuko abruptly found that his breath control had deserted him.

Aang stopped half a millimeter from Zuko’s lips, asking, “can I?” 

The words fluttered over Zuko’s face and he swallowed hard. “Why?”

“Because you haunt my dreams,” Aang whispered. “Because I want to make you feel good.”

Zuko’s breath hitched in his chest.

“Can I?” Aang asked again. 

“Yes,” Zuko whispered before he could stop himself.

The bright joy on Aang’s face in response made his chest do something weird and jumpy, but then Aang’s lips were touching his, and suddenly, that was the only sensation he was aware of.

--

Now, separately, I wanted to share the floorplans I made for the Jasmine Dragon and Zuko and Iroh's Upper Ring House in Ba Sing Se.

First, the Jasmine Dragon.

Here's the whole place, walls up and down:

Next, the 'kitchen' and dining area:

Fun fact: this is now an actual cafe in the Sims, so I can have sims go here for a nice cup of tea any time I want lmao

Next, their house in the Upper Ring.

Here's the full house and backyard:

(The backyard is very spacious so that Zuko can spend time practicing with his swords. He doesn't dare try practicing his firebending, but at least he has room to play with his swords.)

Living Room and Kitchen:

Iroh's Room:

And finally, Zuko's room (and the guest bathroom)

That's all I got. Hope you enjoyed!

[theangelicstoryteller]

Healing Hands

Pairing: HyLink Raiting: E Words: 6,901 Summary:

Link is injured after a battle with Demise's forces. Hylia knows a way to heal both his aches and pains as well as his bones. And while her touch heals his injuries, there is another condition that arises she can assist Link with…

This is for Day 9 of Linktober: Diety!

You can also read this on AO3! Just click the title!

Happy readings to you!

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

Link sat in his dark room in Hylia’s stronghold. The last battle he had fought in her name had been a rough one. He was still walking but was told a few ribs were broken. At least it was just that. And the bruises that seemed to cover every single inch of his body. He groaned as he stood up, careful of his aching ribs. He gingerly dressed in his tunic and looked with something like despair at his boots. Those were not going to be fun to put on. So, instead, he decided to go without shoes and walked out of his room in his bare feet.

The stones of Hylia’s fortress were cold on his soles, but he didn’t care. He walked with purpose, though slowly, to not agitate his ribs, to the little garden he had claimed as his own personal oasis around these stone walls. The weather was clear and bright, and he thought sitting amongst the trees and sun would be good for his health. It would at least distract him from how useless he felt in his current condition. He couldn’t even lift his sword as he was now.

As he approached the tiny courtyard, he heard the sound of a harp and singing. He slowed his steps and listened, still in the corridor leading to the garden. He knew her voice. Who in the entire land wouldn’t. He couldn’t hear the words of her song from where he stood, but he felt their intention. She sounded content. And as always, he did not hear her music so much as feel it. The words soaked through his skin and into his soul, almost seeming to ease the pain in his chest from his broken bones.

He closed his eyes to listen to her, unknowingly taking more steps to hear her more clearly. He felt the sun’s warmth on him and thought it was just her words as he stopped at the archway leading to the garden he had been traveling to.

The music suddenly stopped, and he opened his eyes with a start. He quickly reoriented himself and heard her chuckle. His face was dusted with red with a blush as he looked over to her sitting on the tree stump he often found himself on, holding her harp.

The White Goddess of Time, Hylia. She had forgone her wings today, electing to just appear as somehow both a very tall and very slender human woman. A soft white light radiated from her, lending her to a constant otherworldly glow. She smiled sweetly at him as he stood in the arch, bathed in her light and the sun’s. A small flock of tiny blue birds gathered on the ground around her, as well as the two deer that often found themselves in this garden. She beckoned him forward, and he came without even thinking about it. He was already walking towards her before he even registered he was moving.

The birds gently flew away as he approached, and he bowed a few feet from him. He gasped at the pain in his ribs but moved to one knee before her. “Lady Hylia,” he said respectfully, even as he tried to swallow the pain.

“Link, please, you are injured,” she said gently. Her voice sounded like soothing bells to his ears, the words somehow wrapping around him like silk, easing the pain again. He heard her stand with the gentle rustling of her white dress. He kept his eyes down at her feet as he watched her walk towards him. A gentle hand moved under his chin, angling his face to hers.

Golden Goddesses, but she was beautiful. It was a thought that crossed his mind every time she graced him with the ability to look into her perfect face. She smiled at him, another simple action from her that somehow alleviated his pain. She took his face in both hands and tenderly pulled his face up, forcing him to stand. It still hurt, even washed in her divine light, but he was powerless before her.

Link was not a short man. He stood a good six feet, and still, Hylia towered over him, standing at least another foot and a half over him. She looked down at him with tenderness, and he gazed up at her with open reverence. She gave him a single laugh with her smile before releasing his face to move a hand to his shoulder. “You should be resting, my warrior,” she told him affectionately. “I know you have broken more than a few ribs in our last encounter with Demise’s forces.”

He shrugged, then winced with a grimace. Why was everything connected to his torso? “I detest just staying in my room, my lady,” he told her with his usual stoicism, though it melted in her light as the pain from his shrug subsided. “I came here to rest,” he admitted to her. “The sun would do wonders for my pains, I think.”

Though your light seems to be an actual remedy for my pain, he added silently.

“Oh, of course,” Hylia said lightly. Her laugh was like the gentle chime of bells. She walked over to the stump she had been sitting on to pick up the resting harp, somehow standing upright. Before she sat, she gave a surprised gasp. “Oh! I know what could help,” she said with a wide smile, her light intensifying. It was almost hard to look at her, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her even if he wanted to.

She released the harp in her hand, and it seemed to disappear into thin air. By this time, the deer seemed to have wandered off, and the birds sang in the trees around them. Hylia walked back over to Link, who hadn’t moved as he watched her. She leaned in close to his face with a playful smile, mirth sparkling in her silver eyes, making him blush with how close she brought her face to his. Hylia was known for being very affectionate to the ones that won her favor. This was hardly the first time she had gotten so close to him, but it always made him blush. “Can you keep a secret?” she asked him.

Link had no idea where this was going or what she was thinking, but he would lay down his very life for her - of course, he could keep a secret. He just gave her a nod, and she giggled, a sound like soothing chimes to him. She grabbed his hand and gently started to lead him through the garden. The warmth of her skin seeped into him, seeming to remove the ache in his fingers from holding onto his weapon in the previous battle. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on his part, but he couldn’t stop but think of how well her hand fit with his.

“I discovered a hot spring shortly after establishing this stronghold, but I haven’t told anyone about it,” she told him as she led him through the trees to the broken wall of the courtyard. It led to the small forested area and mountain that rested behind her stronghold. She turned to smile at him. “The warm water does wonders for me - just imagine how it could help you!”

They walked into a small clearing as soon as she said that. It went right up against the mountain and into a cave. At the mouth of the cave, both in and out, sat a small pool framed by rocks of varying sizes. The pool seemed to be lined with blue stones, the water beautifully clear. He heard the gentle crash of water as he saw a small waterfall feed into the pool before it flowed through the back of the cave and out of sight.

Hylia released his hand while he took in the scene. Then, without another word, began to disrobe before him. His face - already a dusty pink from his blush at her taking his hand - turned deep scarlet as he blushed down his neck, hairline, and tips of his ears. “My lady!” he exclaimed in shock, spinning around to turn his back to her in respect. “I… I am sorry, but… what… what are you doing?”

“Hm?” Hylia responded. “I brought you here to enjoy the spring, Link.” She gave a laugh. “Did you not think I would join you?”

In truth, Link hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He had just been enjoying having her hand in his and having her lead him to an apparently secret place. He had registered her speaking about taking him to a hot spring, but the implication of them enjoying it together somehow had evaded him. He kept his back to her as he thought about what he wanted to do. The devoted soldier and follower wanted to keep his back turned and allow her to enjoy the spring in privacy and possibly enjoy it himself alone when she would inevitably be called away. But the man in love with her wanted to turn and join her. He was ashamed to realize that the blood rushing in him did not just go to his face but was also traveling lower…

He was torn on what he wanted to do, what he should do that he didn’t even hear Hylia come up to him until he felt a hand on his shoulder as she walked in front of him. She looked down at him with a mix of playfulness and confusion. Given their heights, he couldn’t help seeing her dress was open and precariously clinging to her breasts, threatening to fall and expose her fully. Somehow, his body found enough blood to both add to the blush on his face and travel lower at the sight of her partially disrobed body. He quickly jerked his gaze up to her face.

“Come now, Link, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she told him reassuringly, smiling down at him. He made sure to keep his eyes on hers. “You would hardly be the first human I have seen naked, nor the first to see me naked. Come,” she moved her hand down to his hand and led him close to the spring. “Let the warm water ease your aches.”

With the decision made for Link, he followed Hylia back to the edge of the spring. He didn’t know if he should watch as she took her hand back to finish disrobing but found, as always, when she was near, he couldn’t look away. His gaze followed the edge of her fabric as it fell from her body, watching as it slipped off her breasts, exposing her perfect pink nipples to him. His gaze continued down with the fabric as it caressed the curve of her waist and ass to fall from her shapely legs and pool around her sandaled feet. He watched as the laces undid themselves from around her calves before she stepped out of the shoes and fabric to the pool’s edge. His eyes were drawn back up her legs to her ass as she slowly walked into the water. Her long golden hair floated behind her as she sank into the water, dipping down until it reached her chin. She sighed in delight as she submerged herself, the light around her intensifying to light the pool, sending rainbows and fractured beams around the rocks around them. She took a second in the middle of the pool before slowly making her way to the falling water in the back. She turned around, let the water run over her face, and looked at him in confusion. He could only stare at her before she laughed again. She raised a hand and beckoned him towards her. “Come, Link, come! The water is delightful!”

He would always answer her call. Slowly, he started to remove his tunic. He wasn’t even sure if this was real or not. Perhaps he was now hallucinating from the pain. That would make far more sense than having Hylia watch him with an appreciative eye as he removed his tunic. He had several bandages wrapped around his torso from some cuts he had received and was unsure if he should remove them or leave them.

“Be sure to take those bandages off, Link,” Hylia told him as she moved away from the falling water and back to the pool’s center. “Only skin is allowed in my hot spring,” she said with a playful laugh. Though the laughter also seemed to be a little… coy.

Just as his blush was starting to subside, it only returned at her laugh. He started to undo his bandages while her eyes were still on him. He wondered what he should do about his trousers. It would be impossible to hide his attraction from her. With his bandages undone, he took a second to look at the myriad of bruises across him. He grimaced as he saw the black and purple patchwork that made up his skin. Unfortunately, his earlier exaggerations of every inch of him being bruised rang true for this part of him. He could not see a single part of his chest and abdomen that was not covered in the bruising. His limbs also had several matching black and purple dots across him.

Hylia gasped, coming over to the edge and looked at his body. He frowned, looking slightly away. He was never sure what to do under her gaze. He waited a second and, when she said nothing, began to undo the laces on his pants. He took a deep breath, wincing slightly at the action, as he hooked his thumb into his trousers and undergarment band. Hylia’s eyes were still on him, though she looked more concerned than playful or coy. His blush remained, but he sighed as he quickly leaned down to remove his pants.

Ouch. That was not one of his better ideas. He hissed through his teeth at the pain in his torso. It felt like knives slicing through him. Idiot! He moved too fast for the pain to stop him before he bent down too far, and now he had agitated his broken bones. Whatever healing Hylia had done to him by just existing was immediately undone by his actions. With the remainder of his clothes around his knees, he quickly stood back up to alleviate the pain in his chest.

“Link, you need to be more careful with yourself,” Hylia gently chided from the water. She came to the edge he was standing at and raised herself out of the water. He watched with wide eyes as the water ran down her body, moving down her perfectly shaped breasts and dripping off her pale pink nipples. He went red at the sight as he unwillingly thought of his fingers or lips following those trails of water. He was so immersed in watching the water fall over her body he nearly didn’t hear her say, “Here, let me help you.”

At first, her words did not register until she half rose out of the water and put her hands on the waist of the pants that were gathered just below his knees. Her head was at his waist level, and the blood went back to his face and dick. He felt as if he was about to pass out from the sudden blood displacement in his body as Hylia looked up at him with caring eyes. But her gaze also looked over his stiffening cock. He looked at the sky, begging the mother goddesses to strike him down. He stepped back and out of his pants, if only to step back from her gaze.

He kept his gaze averted as he heard her move back into the pool. He glanced back over to her and saw her looking over him again. He met her gaze on accident, and she smiled happily at him, gesturing for him to join her again. He closed his eyes and groaned internally. He would come when she beckoned.

He kept his eyes down as he returned to the pool and slowly walked in. He gingerly sank into the warm water and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him. The warm water felt incredible against his bruises. It was almost worth the embarrassment of having a holy goddess help him get out of his pants while she eyed his growing erection.

He felt the water shift around him, and he opened his eyes as Hylia moved back to him. Her eyes were concerned as she looked down at his body through the water. He stared at her wide-eyed as she moved her hands up his arms. Though submerged in the spring’s warm water, he felt goosebumps trail after her touch. She came closer until her face was only a few inches from him.

Their eyes met, and hers were full of concern. “You must be in so much pain…” she said softly.

At this moment, awash in the white light of her in the warm minerals of the water, he had never felt better in his life. One hand came up his shoulder to rest on his chest, her palm pressed lightly into him with her fingers spread. Though this was at the epicenter of his bruises, her touch brought him nothing but comfort. She leaned more, sinking into the water slightly so their eyes were more level. “Link,” she said softly, “would you allow me to heal you?”

He just nodded. He had never experienced her magic on him directly and was unsure what to expect. But the thought of being rid of these bruises and broken ribs faster, both for himself and to be more useful to her immediately, was a good one. She smiled at him gently and placed her other hand on his chest.

Her palm on his chest pressed into his skin. There was the sting of pain, then the feel of electricity passing through his skin from her palm. He shivered as he felt her magic move through him, coursing through his body. It was a sensation, unlike anything he had felt before. It was not unpleasant.

Her hands started to trace over his body, sending that same energy through him. He shivered again at the feeling of her magic and finally feeling her hands on him. He let out a quiet moan he couldn’t suppress, his head falling back. His face turned red, and his hand shot out of the water to cover his mouth.

Hylia laughed, her magic stopping for a moment. She raised one hand out of the water and gently caressed the side of his head. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she told him gently. “This seems to be a common reaction to my magic.”

“Arousal?” Link asked incredulously.

Link froze and then turned deeper red at his own words. Maybe it was how close she was, maybe it was the pain he was in, or maybe even he was getting lightheaded from the heat of the spring. Link would never know what it was that possessed him to drop his hand just to say the one word question that he would have never asked in his right mind. He put his hand back to his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Perhaps he should just sink into the water and drown. That would really be the only acceptable response to all his reactions around the holy goddess Hylia today.

But Hylia just laughed. A high, mirthful laugh that he didn’t know if he had heard her have before. He couldn’t stop himself from opening his eyes to look at her. Her head was thrown back as she laughed, bell-like laughter filling the cave behind them. She looked back to him with more laughter in her eyes, the light from her almost too bright again. “I’m sorry, Link,” she said, moving close again. She took his wrist and gently pulled his hand away from his face. He sank into the water instead, so his mouth was submerged. Hylia laughed again and sank into the water until her chin rested just above the water. “You’re face… it was just so funny!”

His face went flat. Well, he was glad he could be a source of amusement to her. She laughed again, the hand around his wrist releasing him to cup his face. “There’s the Link, I know,” she said with a smile.

He couldn’t help leaning into her palm, his face still half submerged. She smiled at him and guided his face up so their shoulders were out of the water again. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she told him. “Let your emotions be free!”

He lifted his head out of the water to speak, his face still flat. “I do not think some of my emotions are appropriate around one such as you, you’re holiness,” he told her.

Hylia raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you believe me to be some chaste goddess of purity, Link,” she said, her face turning coy again. “I am a goddess of time leading an army - hardly some innocent maiden. Not that I ever was one, even before Demise forced me to raise an army.”

He blinked at her, his eyes going wide. She chuckled at him. She moved in closer again until their noses nearly touched, her eyes half-lidded and full of want, making him gulp. “I know how you look at me, Link,” she continued. He felt shame shoot through him at her words, remembering the nights he had touched himself with her name on his lips. “I know how your devotion comes in many forms. I accept it all. If you allow me, let me heal you. Let me touch you. Let me relieve you of your pains and of your tension.”

Link held his breath. Was this allowed? It seemed unreal as if he was in some impossible dream or fantasy. But these words came from the goddess herself. When she spoke, it was so. So if she said she accepted his feelings…

“And to help with that,” she said, her smile turning into an alluring smirk, making his heart race, “You can touch me anywhere you like. You can kiss me anywhere you like. Except here,” she pointed to her lips that were speaking such seductive words. “You can’t kiss me here. But anywhere else…”

She raised herself out of the water partially again so that her chest was out of the water. Golden hair fell in perfect streams down her body but did not block his view of her curves. He could see the water cascade down her breasts to bead on her skin and drip off her pert nipples. She grabbed his wrists under the water and brought them to her hips. He looked back at her wide-eyed, and she smirked down at him. “You can touch me,” she said again, releasing his wrists where his hands stayed on her hips. “May I continue to heal you?”

Link finally decided that if this was a dream or maybe a pain-induced hallucination that he didn’t care and he would just enjoy it. He leaned forward and took one of her nipples in his mouth, one hand coming up to capture her other breast in her hand. She laughed at his touch, and her hands were on his chest. She pushed back ever so slightly, and his mouth released her with a groan. That buzzing electricity of her healing magic began coursing through him from her hands again, and this time, he didn’t fight the moan that escaped him.

Hylia pushed him back so that he sat on a small underwater ledge in the pool. His head fell back as his breathing picked up, his hands moving to her waist. Hylia’s hands danced over his skin, moving across his chest. He felt the ache and the soreness leave him at her touch, replaced with pleasure. He leaned forward and hesitantly kissed her collarbone, still unsure if his actions were allowed.

Hylia gave a chuckle deep in her throat. “You can use your teeth too if you want,” she told him slyly, making him flush again. He responded immediately by nipping at the bone.

Hylia leaned in closer, giving him better access to her neck and chest as her hands continued their work around his torso. She pressed her palm into him over where the worst of his broken ribs were, making him hiss in pain again. He pressed his lips into her throat, biting into her skin. She gave a pleased hum at his action as her other hand went lower, fingertips teasing his skin until they made their way to the base of his erection.

He gave another strangled moan at her touch. A part of his mind was still panicking that this was not allowed, that he was committing some form of deep sacrilege in having her touch him, in having his lips and teeth and hands on her bare skin. But that part was quickly drowned out by the haze of lust in his mind at the feeling of her magic working beneath his skin and her touch on him. She brushed her fingertips lightly up his cock to trace a delicate finger around his head. He moaned again, his body tensing under her touch, his hands gripping her hips so tight he worried he might hurt her.

But she laughed. One he had not heard before. Sultry and silky that wrapped around him, hazing his worried mind further. “That’s it, Link,” she cooed. “Relax… let me take all your ails and stress…”

Whatever reservations he had, they disappeared as her hand wrapped around his cock. His lips came up her neck to kiss up her jaw. She angled her face up, keeping him away from her lips, as his hands began to move on her again, one moving behind her to grab her ass and the other to move back up to massage her breast. Her own hands continued to move on him, her palm focused on knitting together his broken ribs while the other moved in a slow but steady rhythm on his dick.

Her hands were so soft. Though only one worked actual magic on him, he felt the divinity in her touch. He had been with other women before, but how could they compare to that of the literal goddess. The ache in his middle finally faded as his ribs were fully healed. Still sending her healing magic into him, her hand moved down on his chest to cup his testicles, sending that healing magic through him. He jerked in her hands, his hips bucking up against his will, his head falling back from her to loudly moan. She laughed at his reaction, giving him a squeeze, causing him to buck into her hands again.

The pleasure was overwhelming. He wanted to savor and enjoy this moment of having his goddess’s hands on him, but her hands worked literal magic on him, making his eyes water from the sheer force of her. His breathing was ragged, and his heart felt as if it would beat so hard it would crack the ribs Hylia had just healed. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t keep quiet as her hands moved too slowly while still sending that healing sensation on him, driving him further through his pleasure but also denying him that sweet release from the sheer overstimulation.

“My, how could I have guessed that my stoic warrior was so noisy when pleased?” Hylia teased him, giving his testicles another squeeze. His only response was another strangled moan. “But you seem to be moving more freely. Seems my magic has done its work.”

In his lust-hazed mind, something primal took over Link. His hand on her ass moved until it dipped between her thighs. His fingers sought out her heat, and a part of his brain that knew the practicalities of sex was relieved to find that her body still seemed to have a sex for him to explore. Her teasing laugh became a delicate moan, spurring him on to find her clit and swirl his finger around it.

“My, what talented hands…” she said breathily, moving so she could press her breasts into his face, giving him easier access to her pussy.

Her magic stopped, to which he was thankful. It was emotionally overwhelming enough to have the goddess Hylia herself stroking him towards an orgasm without the physically overwhelming sensation of that magic on him. He was very sensitive to touch even with mere mortal women he did not love even a fraction of the amount he did Hylia. It also allowed him to focus as he slipped a finger into her, keeping his thumb on her clit. She hummed in encouragement, her hands beginning to work faster on him.

That burning tension in his middle came quickly. He moaned around her breast in his mouth as he bucked into her hands again. His head fell back to look up to her as she gazed down at him. Looking at her face now, he realized the usual white light she gave off had turned to a rosy shade of pink, matching the blush across her cheeks. He kept working his hands on her as he gazed into her silver eyes. “Hylia,” he whispered like a prayer. “My lady, I…” he was cut off by a moan as her hand picked up speed again.

She gave a breathless laugh. “My dear Link,” she said, keeping her eyes on him as she rolled her hips into his hand. He thought about what it would be like to feel her on his hips, to bury himself in this heat his fingers had only begun to explore. He felt that burn in his belly start to ignite his entire being. With the hand not steadily pumping his cock, she traced the side of his face with her fingertips. She cupped his face and rolled her hips into his hand again as he slipped a second finger inside her. “Just call me Hylia.”

Why it was these words that did it, he couldn’t know, but his vision went white as his orgasm rocked through him. Her name poured from his lips like a benediction as his hips rocked into her hand. He was a panting mess as he came down from his orgasm, Hylia’s hand slowing on him to coax him through his orgasm. Her other arm came around his neck, pulling his body near hers with her lips at his ear, whispering breathy encouragement he couldn’t even understand. His lips found her ear, her jaw, her cheek. He kissed her all over her face, even as she turned away from him slightly so that he avoided her lips. He moved his mouth back down her jaw to her neck before laying his forehead on her shoulder, panting to catch his breath.

He still had his hand at her heat, though he wasn’t sure what he had done through the searing light of his orgasm. He decided to withdraw from her to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. She chuckled again as she released him, wrapping both arms around his neck and holding him close. “Feel better?” she practically purred.

Link had never felt better in his life. The high of his orgasm released him, only for him to realize that he didn’t feel a single ache or pain in his body. His ribs felt better than they had in years, and his muscles were no longer sore from their exertion from the previous battle. He leaned his head back to look at her, and she placed her forehead on his, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. The light coming from her was still that shade of pink as she settled herself onto his lap. “You have blessed me beyond words,” he told her, unsure how to express his gratitude.

She gave a happy laugh. “Well, I’m glad my magic could assist you,” she said with a smile. But it turned coy in an instant. “However, there is a matter I would like your assistance with now.”

“Anything,” he said without hesitation. He would slash his own limbs off if she requested it.

Instead of answering, she moved off of him to the edge of the pool and back into the cave. Her pink light lit the cave dimly. He watched her wide-eyed as she moved from his grasp, rising out of the water. She sat on the edge of the pool with just her legs hanging into the water. She beckoned him to follow, and he slowly went through the water, swimming over to the edge she sat on. Before he could ask any more questions, he watched as she opened her legs to him. Water ran down her skin around the crease of her hips, beading on her thighs, reflecting pink-tinted rainbows around her glowing skin. He stopped in awe just to admire her flawless skin, watching the water as it moved along her.

She let him admire her before she chuckled. He slowly brought his eyes to her, and she smirked down at him. “Finish what you started, Link,” she told him with an edge of command.

Link was a man of action rather than words. So he moved between her legs as quickly as the water would allow him, splashing the warm water on the rocks around her. She laughed deep in her throat at his response and placed a hand on the back of his head. He shivered at her nails scraping his scalp, giving a slight moan in the back of his throat.

He started at her thigh, kissing her skin, licking at the water beads on it. She hummed in pleasure as he moved closer and closer to her, savoring the taste of her skin on his lips. Her skin was indescribable to him, but he had images of the sky, wildflowers, and calm, open fields. He moved closer and closer to her, settling his knees into a small indent in the rock beneath her. He had been on his knees before her so many times… but only now did he truly feel the spirituality of her light. He followed her, loved her, and believed in her… it was time to worship her in a new way.

He put his mouth to her, licking up at her folds. She sighed in pleasure as he moved closer, his arms wrapping around her thighs. Like her skin, he couldn’t describe her taste, but he was sure there was magic in it, as it sent him with pure euphoria. He felt himself getting hard again as he slowly licked up and down her, listening to her as she made soft, pleased moans at his motions.

He sucked on her clit, heard and even felt her moan, and watched her head roll back. The sound shot through his mouth and straight down his spine. He didn’t even recognize the desperate sounds that came out of him as he moved his mouth against her. “Such a talented mouth…” she said breathily before she moaned again. Her praise brought a strangled moan from his throat as he slid his tongue into her.

She kept her head back and continued to murmur praise and encouragement as he listened to her moans and pitched breathing, picking up on her preferences. There was something so… human in the way she clearly preferred his tongue on her inner folds and even in her rather than around her clit, how she rocked her hips up against his face every so often, how wet she was on his tongue. Sometimes she was so other he felt as if he loved more of a force of nature than a sentient being. But in this moment, he never understood her better.

He released one leg to slide between him and pressed his thumb against her clit, keeping his tongue working where he found she enjoyed it. Her moans rose in pitch, and her head moved around to watch him again. “Link…” she breathed, and he felt such intense pleasure shoot through his entire body at just hearing her call his name in the throes of her own pleasure. “Oh, Link, that’s… that’s so good.”

He wasn’t about to stop worshiping her to respond. Instead, they locked eyes as Link kept moving his tongue in and out of her, his thumb running gentle circles around her clit. She grabbed his head with both her hands and began rolling into his face. He was enraptured by her eyes, unable to look away, even if he wanted to. He flattened his tongue and kept working on her clit in time with her hips, letting her grind upon his face. Her moans crescendoed, echoing in the small cave around them. She was the one to finally look away as her eyes rolled back, and he watched her come on his tongue with a single word on her lips.

“Link…!”

Perhaps it was some sort of magic, or perhaps he was just that in love with her, or maybe still he was just that touch-deprived, but he felt his own orgasm crash into him as he coaxed her through her orgasm. He still didn’t touch himself, even as he felt himself come again for the second time, focusing only on her through his own pleasure. Eventually, her hips stilled, and her legs relaxed onto his shoulders. He leaned back from her (with some difficulty) to look up into her eyes again. She laughed and moved one leg around to nudge him back from the edge of the pool.

He moved back, and Hylia slid into the water after him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly. She leaned back to where he had just been kneeling, tucking him against her with his face in her neck as she sat in the water. Not sure what the proper response was, he decided to wrap his arms around her as well, nestled into her side.

They sat with just the sound of the gentle waterfall and the small river the pool drained out of rushing behind them to fill the silence. After a moment, Hylia pressed her cheek into the top of his hair. “Well, that was quite a pleasant way to spend an afternoon!” she said happily with a laugh.

Link couldn’t help laughing with her. “Indeed,” he told her. He felt darker thoughts hover at the edge of his mind but decided to push them aside. He would just enjoy this moment with Hylia as it was. He would deal with the future when it came.

A breeze rustled the trees outside the cave, and Hylia sighed. “Ah, I fear my duty calls me,” she said sadly, releasing Link to make her way back to the ledge where their clothes sat.

He began to follow after her, but she waved him away. “Please, Link, though your wounds have recovered, enjoy your time in the spring,” she told him as she rose out of the water. “My magic can take some time for your body to adjust, and the warm water should help your muscles adjust.”

He still moved over to the edge with her but remained in the water as he watched her walk over to her clothes. She stepped back into her sandals, and they wrapped around her legs, much in the same fashion they did, but in reverse, when she removed them earlier. She bent down and put her dress back on, adjusting it to a perfect state once again. He blinked as he realized that somewhere between putting her sandals and her dress on, she was perfectly dry once again, her hair she pulled out of her dress cascading in dry locks down her back again.

She turned around and knelt by the pool, cradling his face again with a smile. “I trust you can find your way back?”

He nodded, then grabbed her hand to keep it to his face for a moment. She allowed it, staying down long enough for him to turn his face into her hand and kiss her palm. She smiled sweetly down at him before standing, though he kept her hand as long as he could before it slipped out of range. As she turned to go, he quickly but gently called out to her, “Lady Hylia, wait, before you go,” he said as she looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “May I ask… why was I not permitted to kiss your lips?”

Her smile turned slightly speculative but cleared after a second’s thought. “They hold a very different kind of magic that cannot be undone, nor should be used so casually. But…” her face turned thoughtful for a moment. She then turned back to smile at him gently. “I have a meeting with my generals now. Would you come join me later in my chambers? I… I think I would like to discuss it more with you there.”

Link did not know what she meant, but if she wanted to be alone with him more, he would not hesitate at the chance. He nodded to her, and she smiled at him brightly. She gave him a small wave before she walked back into the woods and disappeared among the trees.