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dragongirlpoet · 9 months ago

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Dark Signs 2

Pt I I Pt III I Pt IV

Alucard x you

Synopsis: You asked Alucard for a favour. Now you have to be careful what you wished for. "To be born a dhampir is to be born a monster" - Vampire Hunter D

TW: Dark fantasy, horror & gore elements, blood, SMUT (Alucard is feral in this one) Explicit 🔞 I Words: 3.5k

Also to @skychaser777 hope you can sleep after this 😉

The hollow stone walls echoed my shaky breaths, caving them in, the thumping of my heart violent in my ears. My skin was pricked with goosebumps, foreboding dire dwellings.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Absurd question, considering everything was inherently far from right.

There had only been one instance where I felt unsafe with Adrian.

Located in the underbelly of Wallachia was a forgotten catacomb, a labyrinth where the dead and undead alike convened. I had been extracting bile from slaughtered night creatures, told to render powerful salves when mixed with mint, myrrh and…other herbs.

Body sticky with sweat and hands grimy from reaching into revolting guts, I was almost to my fifth vial when a guttural growl stopped me dead in my tracks.

From the marrows of a tunnel, a numbing cold, laced with strangled gnawing, reverberated through the passageways.

Every fibre of my being told me to run, alas I had all but the impudence of a child. Unsheathing my iron dagger, ensorcelled to wound even the most vile, I treaded warily towards my impending doom.

The sight that awaited me was sickening. Crouched over bodies upon bodies of night creatures was a pallid, mangled man? His face was buried in their carcasses, marring at their flesh, lapping at their blood.

Before I could take another breath, the man turned, face smeared with ravaged viscera and foul, curdled blood. He had hair like the purest wisps of wheat and eyes like dark, desecrated graves.

I choked back a gasp.

“You foolish, foolish girl. You are not prepared for the evil that lurks here, feeds here..” his bellow was deafening, diabolical. Blood spilled from his fangs, splaying his torso tainted with innards and rotten flesh.

“Wh..who are…you?” I paced backwards as he stalked towards me.

“You don’t know who I am? Most fascinating…” he offered a smile so sinister, as if he had stumbled upon the most naive of fools he was soon to devour.

“I am the sun…rain…the darkness. I am sin made flesh and I am whom you should most fear. I am Alucard, son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.”

A loud “smash” rattled through the room as I retreated into our wooden dresser, knocking over a prized hourglass Alucard so often used to practise his script. The pair of glowering molten eyes trailed me — never blinking, burning caverns into my soul.

I shifted my gaze downwards to avoid stepping into glass, but that was regrettably the least of my worries. Lifting my stare, those eyes were gone — quick as spectres passing through dimensions.

Our chamber fell into a boundless black, and my human sight could not adjust acutely enough to the darkness. I flailed my arms about willing to grasp onto anything that could give me some bearing. Anxiety crept through me like poison ivy ensnaring a forsaken home.

“Adrian? Stop this please! This isn’t funny.” The volatile rhythm of my heart suddenly became too loud, too unbearable.

No amount of breaths could repress my violent trembling. A faint flicker from the corner caught my eye — Alucard’s heirloom sword. If his magical estoc was there…he is still in the room with me.

The hairs on my arms shot up, little by little.

Out of nowhere, forceful, ice cold hands prised around my throat, yanking me out of my state of terror. From behind, Alucard, voice grave like a thousand infernal souls, growled into my ear,

“Do you understand the gravity of what you’re asking?”

Whether it was fear or the vice-like grip around my neck, I couldn’t speak.

“Answer me.”

He clamped tighter.

”Ye…yesss,” I wasn’t telling a lie.

“Then let’s finish what we started, shall we?”

One minute I was in Alucard’s death grip, the next I was shoved, hard, into the stone wall, my face chafing against the abrasive mortar. I winced at the pain.

“You’re hurting me, Adrian!”

Behind, he tightened his grip on my wrists, binding them into the small of my back.

“Am I? Ohh…but you like danger, don’t you?...His other hand reached down to unfasten his pants, his erect cock sliding out… “You are drawn to the darkness, just as I am.”

He trailed the words up and down my neck, pausing ever so subtly to savour the scent of blood in my veins.

A small bead of sweat started trickling down my face…no, no, it was blood — from my collision with the wall.

Alucard went eerily still again. I felt a shift in his countenance, like a malevolent cloud obliterating sunshine.

He was hungry.

With one knee, he forced my legs apart and hauled my nightdress up, my backside fully exposed. I could feel the tip of his length against my rear — throbbing, impatient. He snaked his hands all over my naked body, grabbing at my breasts, digging into my thighs.

The scent of my blood set his every carnal need aflame.

Adrian had always been prudent — he would excuse himself at the slightest scent of my exposed blood, isolating himself in the castle dungeons for hours, as if he deserved it. Deserved to be punished for his beastly urges, deserved to be condemned for being born a monster.

Every blood-month I had would send him away for days — “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve seen what I become when I feed… I’ll just be hunting, it’d be just a few days, and your cycle would end when I’m back,” he would say with a smile. A sad smile.

And I was utterly tired and heartbroken that my Adrian, so kind and full of love, would admonish himself, rip his spirit to shreds, for a fate that had been unfairly handed to him. I was going to end this, tonight.

Alucard nuzzled his face into my hair, taking in all my smells, heaving. His body was unyielding against mine — elegant marble against bewitching velvet. I could hear his vampiric heartbeat ringing in his ears, drowning out all sense of reason. He was an animal in heat.

“You know I cannot control myself around you. And you know what your blood does to me… Do you know how long I haven’t fed?”

His writhing cock was brandishing my cunt, starving for my hole.

“Do you know I think about what it’s like to have your blood in my veins? How much I want it, need it, desire it.

How much I want my blood in you. And you ask this of me, tonight, when I’m sitting at the precipice of hunger and lust…”

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“Hmmm you don’t know what’s coming for you. Once I do this there’s no turning back.

Do you know how long I’ve been holding out for you? To be better for you. And now you ask this of me…”

At that he yanked at my hair, forcing my head to fall back. The red trace on my cheeks bowed complete to his mercy.

Staring defiantly into his eyes, I said, “Do it, Adrian. I want you to.”

Danger, danger.

A devious smile tugged at his lips. Alucard skimmed my neck with his mouth, bruising it with reckless kisses and parlous nips. He moved precariously to suck at the aquamarine veins running down my breasts, licking slow circles about my nipples. He was a wolf dallying with his food.

A true vampire, hedonistic even in the slightest of pursuits, moving inevitably to the blood trail. He had waited so long for this.

Alucard pushed his lips delicately into my face, afraid of spilling even the smallest of drops. My blood was a sacred river, a bath of worship he would praise forever. Shaking, he ravened the scarlet off my face, sucking at the open cut, willing for more.

He was a mixture of muffled moans and enthralled ecstacy.

It was exhaultant. I adored being able to give Adrian what he most craved.

Drinking in more than necessary, the whites of his eyes were no longer — entire sockets now overtaken with crepuscular crypts darker than the blood moon that hung outside.

Alucard’s cock twitched beneath me, length growing harder and bigger by the second. Grunting, he pumped his sex and slid it against my pussy. I was light-headed with anticipation, but he had merely fondled my folds, prodding at my entrance, testing to see how wet I was.

Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps a dissolute part of me yearned for the darkness, but what I’d wanted most of all was to know that I had years, centuries — immortality, to be with Adrian.

Head over my shoulder with eyes like lacquered obsidians, he interlaced his fingers with mine, bringing them down to press at my clit. Flagging off from my most sensitive spot, he traced them up my body, slowly, torturously.

“I wonder…” fingers caressing my abdomen… “how far up…” I gasped as he adjusted them higher… “my cock will go when I’m deep inside you…” Alas settling on a spot above my navel.

A sacred river spawned between my legs.

Incapable of restraint any longer, I reached back to stroke his shaft, thumb stimulating his tip until his pre-load creamed my fingers. I lathered his fluids, relishing in the feel of his hallowed flesh tethered to my hands.

“Fuuuck.” Alucard bristled against my touch, face buried in my neck. Below, he was thrusting at my entrance, not yet entering, readying me for his carnal devotion.

”Adrian please, I need you. I want you inside…”

His last thread of resolve snapped. He rammed his boner into me from behind, stretching me, engulfing me. My tender walls were a haven to his brutal thrusts, welcoming him in. Cock barely to his hilt, he spread my bottocks apart, plunging his engorged member in.

“Ahh…ahh…” I whimpered, hands braced on the wall.

“How are you still so tight…” he hissed, enraged he couldn’t yet feel all of me.

My fingers weaved into his hair, tugging as I leaned further back into him. This feral urge, I craved it. It was scarce enough to satiate the searing lust in me, so I ground impiously against his length like the unholy girl he wanted me to be.

Tonight, he was to have his way. He was the nefarious overlord and I was but a malleable zealot. My hips were firmly held down by his hands — he wanted to control my rhythm. I was, afterall, his submissive little prey.

Alucard forced his cum-stained fingers into my mouth, swirling them about the insides of my cheeks, wresting in and out of my plush lips. I licked at them greedily, suckling on his taste. He was so deft — hands and length penetrating me in a lyrical sync, sating me above and below.

I gagged when he stuck his fingers further down, my throat wedging tight. Tears rimmed my eyes but I continued hollowing my cheeks, head bobbing. “Such a good girl…” praising as he brushed hair off my face. I was to appear immaculate while being fucked indecent.

Hypnotised by his bulge assaulting my hole, I bit sinfully on his index, tearing his skin. He pulled out from my mouth, eyes transfixed on the blot of blood.

“You’re being a naughty little lamb tonight…” His smile was insidious, like a serpent suffocating its meal.

My vampire smothered his blood over my parted lips. My tongue grazed over it, wiping it clean like I was the one writhing in blood lust. What I did had Alucard under a powerful spell. He plummeted his smug into me, our kisses heedless, crashing into each other in depraved lust.

We sucked and bit them swollen, both of us unrestrained and shameless of our monstrous love. Under, he continued hammering his heat into me, hand pushing my cunt back to swallow more of him.

Alucard was never one to trifle with a perfect opportunity. Hands at his favourite spot, he rubbed his digits forcefully at all the places his cock didn’t already fill. My knees buckled at once from overstimulation.

“Stay.” He landed a firm smack onto my soaking sex… “Still.”

“Or I won’t let you cum.” An order.

He bent me over, my backside raised to allow him easy entry. I compelled my wobbly legs to stand, muscles quivering at my bones.

“Good. Hands on the wall.”

Like his obedient little lamb, I hoisted my arms on the cold stone, squeezing taut around my feral wolf.

I was begging, moaning his name, my being in complete disarray.

Content with how tight I was clenching around his shaft, Alucard drove his erection mercilessly into me, pounding so hard I was lifted off the ground.

I cried out in pleasure and pain. “Adrian! Adrian please…”

“You like it when I’m rough with you, baby? You want me to turn you, and fucking you senseless comes with it,” he spat in between thrusts, dragging hair away from my ears to ascertain I could hear him loud and clear.

I was so deliciously filled my lewdness spilled out onto my legs. Paths of sweet nectar trickled down my trembling thighs, glazing his girth with my wicked desire.

I was so close.

Smelling my arousal and imminent climax, Alucard slammed faster into me, his own pace losing cadence.

We were so close.

He had everything timed perfectly. Just as he had countless times before — night creatures and wild animals — all unsuspecting pawns to his blood thirst. He was adept at hiding his deplorable little secret, but I knew better.

Fangs fully exposed, he grazed them masterfully over my neck, humming at my veins and arteries. Quite like a skilled chef discerning food, he was choosing which would taste most exquisite. My scarlet vessels were pulsing in tempo with my heartbeat — palpitating, quivering, waiting.

“Are you frightened? I can feel your terror in my bones…” villainy laced his snarl like a wolf finally rid of sheep’s clothing.

I had to inhale gulps of air to articulate my words, “No….” But what I said or what I thought mattered no longer. Gone was Adrian — human, moral, benign. A bestial, debased monster, instead, all consumed him.

Soulless eyes searched me once more, as if to forewarn me about my perilous decision, as if the human in him was straining to break free of his chains to stop this atrocity.

There was no turning back now.

I offered my neck to him, reckless, bloodstreams on full display. At last, with Alucard’s throbbing cock still stuffed full inside, I felt the firestorm in my core and the crushing torrent soon overcame me.

My release tonight felt different — cathartic. I was once again the delicate driftwood being dragged underwater — careless, aimless, going where the current took me. My limbs fell limp at my sides, my spirit devoid of vigour. And I knew why.

Alucard’s fangs were buried in my neck, drinking my blood as if a divine offering. When did he bite me? I felt no pain, only a rapture so heavenly I ached for more.

And so drink he did. Rivers of blood coated his lips, crimson tributaries surging down his throat. He sucked and lapped at my vital spark, clawing at my body so arduously as if I was the most cherished jewel of immeasurable value.

Like a vampire deprived of debauchery, he drank me in like sweet sin. He had no beginning and no end. And rightfully so. I was profoundly proud of my Adrian. At long last, he no longer had to be ashamed of who he was. He was liberated. He was free.

My racing heart was now a supine hum. I lay naked — pliant and frozen in his arms. The sleepy swell of the ocean lulled me into the black nothingness. I was rising and falling, so in harmony with the current.

Above, hazy sunbeams fractioned the waves like sparkling diamond necklaces. Beneath, the sombre abyss tugged at my essence, diffusing all manner of light. The ominous depth, though a macabre embrace, was one so full of promise. It was beckoning to me, calling my name — stay, stay, stay…

—

I awoke to a pall of infinite blackness.

I had been dreaming. There were shadows — silhouettes, of people I couldn’t quite make out. They were whispering, a sonnet of hurried voices, as if going somewhere, but nowhere at the same time. Then there was a lambent flame — the colour of pale amber, always in the distance but never near. Always tailing, always watching…

Where was I?

I could see nothing, hear nothing. I shifted slightly, and my shoulders were met by cool textile — silk? As more of my senses reconciled, I felt the mattress below me, a satiny divan not reminiscent of my bed. Muted was the air, hollow was the roof, and

…algid was my skin.

I was in a coffin.

Panic coiled through the ridges of my ribs, puncturing my heart like lethal thorns. I clawed and pounded at the wood…was I buried alive?

Alas, like the caves of hell being vaquished by divine light, the casket slid open, and I clambered onto a sprawling granite floor. I was heaving, frantic to take in air, clamouring at my chest as if ghostly hands were crushing my heart, splintering my valves.

Where was Adrian?

A succession of torches adorned the upper vaults, the mellow ebb of light suddenly becoming glaring to my eyes, as if I had been staring directly at the sun. I could make out the phosphorescent ripples and saffron hues that wreathed the flames.

The air smelled vaguely of mildew and crumbling concrete, while the scampering of rodents in between masonry thundered in my ears. I could hear them squeaking, the sounds of their bones compressing while they squeezed through cracks and crevices.

I could hear their heartbeats — tiny surges of blood in their capillaries.

Such fragile little things, I wonder what they’d feel when they’re crushed by the force of my teeth. If they’d feel pain, if any at all, as I drain them dry…

I was so, so hungry.

My awareness had heightened ten-fold, the anarchy of it all confounding whatever human that was left in me. The sensation of everything all at once was too much to bear and I covered my ears to drown out the distress.

Futile efforts indeed.

“Adrian? Adrian…” My voice hoarse from wheezing.

Was this what he had to endure? Being so akin with the presence of entirety, enough to render one insane. Was this why he had been so loath to turn me?

I hauled myself off the ground, bidding my legs to what looked to be a door. Scarce a blink had passed than I was face to face with a metal threshold — intricate lineations etched faintly onto the frame.

“Willing blood of the Raven Maiden,” — Enochian, words of ancient bygone, but Adrian and I had been avid philologists.

I didn’t concern myself with whether the translation had in fact referred to my blood, but I sank my fangs — a lurid extension — into my wrist and smeared them over the threshold.

The magicked portal transported me to a bed chamber, a former bed chamber, now resembling the crux of a dense forest.

Creepers cleaved through stone, while poison vines slivered across furniture. Rich moss clung to the bed frame, eating away at the tulle canopy, embedding itself into rotted linen.

That chaise…it was ours.

Horror flooded my senses as I glanced furtively around.

Our armoire, our settee, our desk.

Strewn across the floor, some shredded by tree roots dissecting the wooden panelling, lay stacks of disintegrating parchment like remnants of forgotten lore.

Vampiric speed overtaking, my eyes scanned the moth-eaten pages over.

“Come back to me.”

I choked on my tears.

“To be born a dhampir is to be born a monster.”

They fell like glass, shattering on the ink, eroding the paper more.

How long had I been asleep for?

“No, no, no…” I wept into the emptiness, anguish imprisoning my lungs, blocking off air. In spite of being undead, I had a heart, and it bled — it bled crimson, pain and grief. It bled with all the words I wished I could take back.

It bled with all the ache that I might never see Adrian again.

I scoured the castle. Every tower, every room, every dungeon, each a shell of its former mirth. The scenes ran parallel — overgrown foliage, wrecked furnishings, pillars atrophied by decay. Our home had been eaten away by the curse of time. There was no sign of life, no essence of Adrian.

With a threshing hole in my heart, I raced past the lattice of abandon toward the main doors. As the iron portcullis lifted, I recoiled at the hell that awaited me.

There, in the blistering winter, impaled upon rows and rows of stakes, dangled festering corpses of night creatures…and humans.

What have I done?

Pt I I Pt III I Pt IV

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myvoiddreams · 11 months ago

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Fragments of Starlight

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With the impending war, Y/N is captured by Hybern's general. As they struggle to protect those they care about, they reflect on their unrequited feelings for Azriel and their insecurities within the Night Court.

Word Count: 4,585

Warnings: ANGST, violence, torture, dark themes

A/N: This is my first time ever writing anything like this. I am a true sucker for angst. This is meant to go along with some of the events of ACOWAR, but of course, it’s different. Please don’t come at me for not following it’s exact story line. ALSO, I know that Azriel or Feyre would NEVER, but it’s just for the heartache okay!!

Part 2, Part 3

------

Now

All of it, it was all going to shit. I don’t know how my ears weren’t bleeding at the sheer amount of noise coming from the chaos around me. So much screaming, but was it Hybern’s forces, or our own? Everything was ringing, my head throbbing along with it. It was almost as if my breaths were not reaching my lungs. I was on the ground, all fours underneath me as I tried and tried to get myself to my feet. Everything was sore, it was like my muscles were not working. I stretched for the source of the aching on my temple and what I found was the warm, wet consistency of fresh blood.

My family, where is my family? Panic drenched me like a bucket of ice water.

With a groan, I grabbed my sword that lay beside me and turned to face the sky, now sitting at least. The sky, it was so blue. It almost felt like a disgusting joke to see something so beautiful, as dead bodies lay at my feet. Hybern’s forces were surrounding me, there was no escaping this.

I grit my teeth as I stand, my blade in hand. Dizziness rolls off me in waves, so much so that nausea is found coursing through my veins. I don’t get very far up before I’m slammed back down to the earth. My face hits the dirt as all the air leaves my lungs, leaving nothing but the taste of the earth and blood in my mouth. There is someone standing on my back, applying enough pressure I’m sure I’ll have a broken rib or two.

“Don’t go too far, sweetheart. We are just getting started with you.” A cry of pain leaves my lips as one of Hybern’s generals continues to crush my ribcage. The nausea and ringing in my head is too much. Then, with another blow to my head, everything is dark.

---

Before

“Oh, come on now sweet cheeks! You can do better than that. Az and I trained you myself!” Cassian’s voice was oh so annoying as he pinned me to my back. Sweat was gleaming across both of us as we spent the morning training. I was panting as my mind continued to reel.

Life had gotten tense with the Inner Circle recently. Not only was Prythian on the cusp of war with Hybern, but now we had to juggle the two newly made Fae that were the Archeron sisters.

I honestly felt bad for them. They did not ask for this life. I can only image what it would be like to go through life having your humanity ripped from you. Now knowing that you are going to be around for centuries instead of decades. And I felt bad for Feyre, who never wanted to see her sister’s dragged into this.

Usually, Azriel would be here with Cassian and me. Usually. It seemed as though Azriel had been getting far in over his head with the middle Archeron sister as of late. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. But, I would never admit that fact out loud. Elain was half here and half not. Whenever she did speak, she’d just spew some crap that didn’t make any sense. But, that didn’t stop Azriel from spending any time he was not preparing for the war, with her.

Azriel. My heart seized at just the mention of his name. I had known the Shadowsinger for centuries. I stood by his side as he faced his own inner turmoil about Rhys being taken from us right under our feet. I stood by him even before that as I watched Windhaven and Devlon try to take was little he had away from him. Really, I had stood by everyone in this Inner Circle. But Azriel, Az was different. This too I would never admit out loud.

It took me holding him one night, after he had dreamt of his hands being lit aflame again, that it snapped. In all his vulnerability, it just, snapped. Az and I had shared a connection, a friendship, and I had loved him far long before the mating bond clicked in place. It only felt right that it was him. But, it hasn’t snapped for him.

It hurt, every single day, it hurt. And to watch him try so hard to make whatever it was happen with Elain, who was mated to someone else, made me feel worthless. This too, was not his fault. How was he supposed to know when I refused to breathe a word of it. Honestly, it might be a good thing, the distance. It hurts, but Azriel deserves happiness. I don’t know if I’m the one who can give him that.

“Damnit Cass!” I grunted as I fought back from his restraint.

“You are letting yourself get sloppy, Y/N. No room for that on the battlefield.” His face was smug. I felt some embarrassment creep up my neck and find its way on my cheeks.

“I know, I know.” I huffed. “Just let me up already.” I gave up on fighting back. Recently I found myself lacking the energy I used to have. I used to be full, driven, but I have found myself distant lately.

“Look, are you sure you’re okay, Y/N? You have not had your head in the game recently.” He stood and held a hand out to me. Cassian only wanted to check on me, it was nice really. I just wasn’t used to it. I had been the one the members of this court had always leaned their heads on. There just seemed to be no room for the others to do the same for me. So, I never asked them to. I wasn’t going to start now.

“I’m fine Cass, just tired.” I retorted.

“Aren’t we all sweet cheeks.” He said as he patted my back.

---

Now

Fire is crackling somewhere near me, but I can’t feel its warmth. I feel myself chained up. My arms were far above my head, hanging me from a support post. My feet had been stripped of their shoes, and now chains wrapped around my ankles. My body hurt, breathing hurt, and my head hurt. I was sure that this hellhole was only going to make it worse.

“Ah, there she is. Glad to see you actual awoke, we were starting to get worried.” Spoke the same general who broke my ribs.

I kept my mouth shut, only glaring at the direction of the voice. My vision was still blurry, and where I hope there was only one of him, I saw three.

The entrance flap of the tent open and closed to reveal another male. This one, I recognized. The King of Hybern himself.

“If it isn’t Y/N of the Night Court. I have to say, my men did a fine job bringing you in here for me. Wouldn’t you say so?” His voice was gruff. “Now that you’re here, we some questions we need answered, and I suggest you do answer them, dear. I’m sure you don’t want to find out what will happen if you don’t cooperate.”

I lazily lifted my head toward the King and sneered. “Try me.” I bit back, my voice laced with venom.

“Oh, I was afraid you’d say something of those sorts.” The king waved in another male, he was in head to toe in black. Something similar to what I’d see our very own Shadowsinger wear. Only this male was no where near the build of Az, but damn, did he look pissed.

The male pulled out a small dagger that was sheathed on their waist and made his way closer to me. I couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape my lips, “Size does matter you know,” I quipped. I know this man was here to interrogate me, but I could not let these people know how truly vulnerable I felt.

“Oh? I beg to differ.” The male stated as he plunged the dagger into the flesh of my calf.

---

Before

Rhys wanted to have a family dinner tonight. It would be the first one in quite a long time. With everything going on, who was to blame anyone? I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it though. I used to love the time I could spend with my family, but now, it wasn’t the same. Not when my family was no longer the same.

Rhys had Feyre, who don’t get me wrong, I love, and I love to see Rhys have the mate he has always deserved. But, with the additions of the Acheron sisters came with something strained. Cass hasn’t said anything, but I see the way he looks at Nesta. Nesta, who wants absolutely nothing to do with him, or any of us for that matter. Mor and Amren hadn’t been around as of late. Both were too busy preparing for this inevitable war. Mor with being an emissary and Amren with working out some logistics of the Cauldron.

And Az. Azriel was no longer seeking me out. No longer spending time in the training ring or the library with me. Instead, he was with Elain.

And then, there was me. Before this family all I was, was alone. Finding this family had saved me in more aspects than one, but I can feel it shifting under my feet, about to give way and take me with the edge of it.

This though, is something I would never speak about. There is enough going on as it is. No one needs to be burdened about me, my unreciprocated feelings for the Shadowsinger, or my silly feelings of insecurity. I’m a friend to the court, a warrior, sometimes an advisor, but, I am nothing compared to the rest of them. I simply do not hold enough importance, and that is something I must live with. Something I am terrified they will realize as well.

I was the last to make it to the table. Cauldron, even Elain is here. And next to Elain was Az. Hazel eyed, messy haired, Az. We caught each other’s eyes. I couldn’t help but let a smile creep up onto my face in greeting, and he smiled back.

I took my seat next to Cass and Amren and looked at the table around me. Even though war was around the corner, it felt good to gather as if nothing was wrong. Conservation started buzzing, everyone started eating, and I drifted off to a place that wouldn’t hurt me.

—-

Now

Sweat is dripping off me in beads. My body is littered with cuts and bruises. But, I didn’t say a word. Not a single word about the size of our armies, not a word about what Rhys and the others had planned, not a word about our allies. Not a word. And I was paying for it.

Gods. They had left me here, giving me a break from the beatings and the torture. Whatever the used must have been laced with faebane because I have never felt this weak. This out of control of myself. I wasn’t healing, and I was still losing blood. At this rate, it wasn’t looking good. I was still hanging from my arms, I’m sure at this point I had a shoulder out of it’s socket. A rustling began again at the entrance of the tent.

“Back for more?” I croaked. My throat was completely dry from the screaming. But, when I got my eyes open enough to see what the cause of the noise was, my heart stopped dead in it’s tracks.

Elain.

---

Before

I retreated from dinner early. As pitiful as it sounds, I couldn’t be around it. I couldn’t stand to see Azriel with her any longer. Not when I knew he was the one who was slowly healing her and ruining me.

Knocking at my bedroom door pulled me from my thoughts and I was looking into a book, not really reading it. “Come in,” I shouted.

The site of Azriel caught me off guard. Once upon a time, it was normal for him to seek me out from my room. Now, it simply wasn’t. I couldn’t help but tense.

“Oh! Az!” I put my book down and stood. “How are you doing?” I smiled up at him.

“You would know if you hadn’t left dinner so early.” He looked down at me, frowning and crossing his arms. It was rare that Az was upset with me.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m tired after training today.” I gave him a sad smile, not wanting him to push the issue further. “But please, tell me what I missed.”

This somehow made his shadows start to swirl around him and he huffed. “I was telling everyone how much progress Elain had made. She’s having actual conversations now.” He smiled at it, proud.

I tried not to show any hurt on my face. I have no right for this to hurt me. He was helping someone, and I had to be pitiful enough that I was jealous.

“That’s amazing Az, you’ve helped her a lot.” I let another smile grace my face. Before I knew what I was saying it was falling out of my lips, “But, you do realize that she is mated, right?”

Azriel’s demeanor shifted. His shadows became agitated, “Elain is a friend. She is going through a lot, and she needs support.” He sighed, “Plus, I think that cauldron could be wrong.” That sentence alone was enough to rip whatever was left in me to shreds. Why couldn’t he see me?

I had to take a deep breath to keep the silver lining in my eyes in place. “Az, when in your life have you ever seen the cauldron be wrong? Why would it start being wrong now?”

“Look, maybe you’ll understand one day, but it’s wrong about her and Lucien.” He crossed his arms now.

“It sounds like you want to it be wrong. Whether it is, or not.”

Azriel was growing frustrated. His eyebrow ticked and he huffed, “Can you blame me for wanting something more?”

“She is mated Azriel. Off limits.” I tried to stress him. “I don’t want to see you hurt if it doesn’t turn out the way you want.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t want my mate ripped away from me, I’m sure Lucien doesn’t either.” He doesn’t even realize that I’m talking about him. Not a single clue.

“Ripped away? Look Y/N, just because you’re alone, does not mean I have to be. Why are you making this about you?” He nearly snarled at me. Snarled. “I have finally found another purpose other than this war. I have found something, someone, to spend my time with and enjoy.”

His words hit me like an arrow to the chest. Alone. Maybe they all did see me, and they just didn’t care. Why couldn’t I be enough for him? Why hadn’t in all the time and cherished memories we have together be enough. We had held each other in hardship. We had trained together. We had grown together. We had spent countless Starfalls together. We had shared so many laughs and touches. Why wasn’t what we had enough for him?

The weight of Azriel’s words hung in the air, heavy silence settling between us. My heart ached with the sting of his remark, and I fought to keep any of my remaining composure.

I deflated, “Az,” I tried to sigh as he cut me off again.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so insecure, you’d see that I’m just trying to help someone who’s been through a lot. You’re jealous and it’s clouding your judgment.” He stared at me, and I had to look away. I didn’t realize it but I began to shake. I couldn’t tell if it was from rage, or from the way my heart cracked as he spoke.

“I think you should go Az.” My voice began to break, and I could tell that my walls were going to come down. Not once had I ever asked him to leave.

His own eyes softened, and he reached for me, “Wait.”

He tried to continue but I cut him off, “Leave, Azriel.” I turned to face away from him. I gathered my arms together. I couldn’t let him see the tears that were rolling down my face, I wouldn’t.

He pulled his arm back to himself and hesitated, seeing the pain he was causing me. Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind with a heavy finality.

---

Now

Elain. What the fuck was she doing here?

Seeing her tore me from my stupor. She acted as if she was in a trance, half there. I was really panicking now. I could take this torture and pain, Elain, I don’t think she would last. I could hardly pull at my restraints at this point.

“Elain! Elain!” I screamed at her, trying to get her attention. One of the males that was hauling her in, left her side and strolled to mine. Next thing I knew I was tasting my own blood in my mouth as his fist met with my face. As the blood welled up in my mouth, I felt rage hit me. I spat at him. His face now coated with the bloody saliva that he caused me.

He wiped his hand over his face, ridding it of its bloody covering. I snarled at him as he drew a blade. Good. This way the focus would stay on me and not Elain. He brought the blade to my face, slicing a thin mark down my cheek. “If you wanted more, you could’ve just asked.” He trailed the blade down my neck, and now to my collar bone, all the while slicing lightly as he went. He brought his lips to my ear and his hand grabbed my face, “I have so much more than just blades and fists in store for you, girl.”

It was almost too hard to stomach. I didn’t want to know what he was alluding to. Elain, do this for Elain. I told myself. I kept silent and he pushed me away, returning to the other male who was already putting Elain into restraints.

Why is she here? Why is she not fighting back?

As they finished with her restraints, Hybern himself walked back into the tent.

“Cauldron be damned, if it’s not also Feyre’s cauldron made sister.” Hybern chuffed, “We are truly going to have such a fun time together.” He chuckled as he looked between Elain and I.

He nodded at his men and they both reach for their knives. One for me. One for Elain.

“Wait!” I blurted as I saw the man move toward Elaine, “Please, leave her unharmed.”

“Hmm,” hummed Hybern, “Now, tell me pretty thing, why would I do that?”

“She’s a Seer. Please, you must leave her unharmed or she will be no use to anyone. She will not come out of any trance if she is harmed.” I didn’t know if what I was blabbing was true. I only knew that I needed to protect Elain, for she could not protect herself.

Hybern nodded again at the male who was at Elain’s side. The male sheathed his blade and I let out a silent sigh.

“You on the other hand,” Hybern turned his attention back on me, “I have some questions about pretty Elain.” A wicked smile reached the lips of the male in front of me, as he lifted his blade threatening. “You, dear Y/N, best answer them.”

The male reached for my shirt and tore it in half. Now leaving my chest and abdomen exposed to the air, only a warrior’s wrap covering my breasts. I gasped at the bite of the air reaching my skin. My abdomen was littered with black and blue bruising from the beatings. The faebane in my system slowing any kind of healing.

I turned my face to a stone grimace. I could do this. I told myself. If nobody comes for you, then surely someone will come for Elain.

That truth hurt almost as much as the torture that I was being put through.

---

Before

It had been about a week since I’d seen Azriel. The bond that used to hum in my chest felt vacant. Rhysand had sent me and Cassian to one of the Illyrian war bands that were positioned in case of an attack.

It was a single flaming arrow that was sent into a tent that set everything into utter chaos. Cassian was in the middle of a meeting with some of the other commanders, and I was in the training ring.

Hybern’s forces hit us as if we were nothing but an anthill in their way.

I don’t know where Cassian was as I fought and fought, until I was brought down.

---

Now

I was hardly holding on. I had no energy to cry out anymore. No energy to even lift my own head up. My abdomen and back was near ribbons after that male drove his blade into me again and again.

Elain had seemed to snap in and out of it. When she was somewhat coherent, she would only cry. I felt bad for her, but I had done what I could do protect her. There wasn’t a single scratch on her.

At thinking of Elain my mind drifted to Azriel. I wonder if he’s looking for me, if not, her.

The inner circle had to know that something was wrong at this point. I only hope that Cassian was also okay after we were ambushed. I’m sure if he wasn’t, he’d be right next to me also receiving the beatings I was.

Blood dripped down my back, creating a small pool under me. I truly didn’t know how much longer I would last. I had never felt weaker in my life.

I should’ve told him that night. Anguish was suffocating me. I found myself retracing everything I did as of late. The way I stole myself away from my family because I was being nothing but pitiful. The way they started to treat me differently. The way one no one would come to me anymore, and I would not go to them. No wonder they have left you here. You are nothing to them. My mind bit at me.

What truly bothered me was the downfall of mine as Azriel’s friendship. He was the one person I could always truly count on. If I had fallen in training, if I had drank too much, if some stupid male had broke my heart, it was always Azriel that had caught me, and me him. It’s why I fell in love with him long before the bond snapped its place into my heart. And now I was going to die without him ever knowing. I was simply going to fade away as my blood pooled underneath me.

It's better this way. I told myself. Elain is unharmed, and I will fade before anyone knows of this bond. The war will be won and Az will be able to move on with someone he finds joy in.

I couldn’t help but let tears run down my face. I wanted to scream, to find some way out, but with the faebane running through me, I was simply too weak.

---

I woke to the sound of rustling at the entrance of the tent. The rustling led to Elain, and I could hear her restraints being messed with. I nearly couldn’t pry my eyes open at the sound. Maybe they would finally take me from my misery. I silently hoped. That’s when I heard a quiet gasp. I looked up to see.. Feyre? And behind her, the one messing with Elain’s chains, Azriel.

My heart lurched to a stop. They had come to help, we were going to get out.

“Azriel..” Feyre quietly said as he brought Elain into his arms.

“What.” He nearly hissed at her. That’s when he looked up and truly saw me.

“Az.. Feyre..” I choked on my words. Help was here. I was going to get out of here. To make it. Finally something positive bloomed in my chest in place of where that hole had found itself.

Azriel set Elain back down and rushed to my side. He put a hand to my cheek, “Y/N, we couldn’t find you anywhere. Cass, he said you were missing after the battle.” His touch sent shivers down my beaten spine.

My restraints still bore heavily into my wrists where I was strung up. Then, there was rustling and yelling coming from outside of the tent.

“Help me down, please.” My voice was raw and pleading.

The yelling was getting closer and closer.

“Az, we have to leave, now.” Feyre said, trying to scoop Elain into her arms.

Azriel’s hand left my cheek, and panic flared into his eyes as he took in my state.

Hybern’s soldiers were coming, realizing something was wrong. Azriel looked between Elain and I, backing up from where I was strung up. He was backing away from me. Why was he backing away from me?

My own panic started to settle deep inside of me, long squashing any hope that had found it’s place.

“Azriel… please,” I coughed quietly. Dread was setting deeply inside of me. They didn’t plan on saving two. They came here for Elain, not me.

A sob found it’s way onto my lips as he picked Elain from Feyre’s arms. Feyre herself looking torn, her eyes expressing so much anguish.

“We will come back Y/N. I promise.” Azriel’s words were yet another punch to the gut.

I couldn’t help but let the sobs I had been holding onto for so long bubble out of me.

“Please don’t leave me here.” I cried, no longer caring for the quietness. They both stiffened at the sound of my voice. “Please,” I was gasping for air as this point, “If you’re not going to take me, then at least put me down.”

Their eyes widened at my statement, but I couldn’t hold for much longer. I needed this pain to end. This suffering to be over with.

“We will be back. I will come straight back.” Azriel hushly stated. His eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes were boring into me. They were trying to convince me he was telling the truth, but I knew better. I knew that they were only getting into the camp once successfully.

They chose Elain. They were going to leave me behind.

“Just kill me, please kill me…” I sobbed, “Please if you are going to leave me behind, then just kill me.”

Feyre was crying now, and Azriel. I knew, that even though he was choosing Elain, Elain to save, and Elain to love, he still wouldn’t harm me.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Feyre bubbled out of her crying lips as she quickly left the tent under her cloak.

Azriel and I made eye contact again through my sobbing, through the tears that were leaving my eyes in force. “I will be right back. I will come back for you.” And then, he was gone. With Elain in his arms.

I broke, truly broke. No weapon could hurt me as much as the sight of who I loved most, my mate, leaving me here, strung up and bleeding out.

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #Acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel angst #angst #Azriel x reader angst

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theriverbeyond · 9 months ago

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harrowhark nonagesimus top sexual fantasies:

1. dead woman on ice

2. being forgiven

2a. being choked out by gideon nav (see above)

3. hot and sweaty butch cavalier shirtless WITH sword + muscles straining in the light pants optional sweat dripping off her brow tits bouncing in th

#harrowhark nonagesimus #the locked tomb #trb.txt #tlt thoughts #x

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ashveil-archives · 6 days ago

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Lander the Lion-Fang

"I don’t bend. I break. And you’ll love how it feels."

Alias: The Lion-Fang, Ice-Breaker, Warden of the Scorchmark Bastion

Race: Human (Eldmarked: touched by Sunfire)

Age: 36

Pronouns: He/Him

Alignment: Dominant Good | Brutal Protector

Occupation: Bastion Warlord | Commander of the Frostclad Host | Unofficial Deity of the Southern Tumblr Tags

☀️ Physical Description

A walking furnace in armor. Sunlight made flesh. Lander towers like a god of war carved from sunstone and leather. Every movement radiates weight and hunger—his broad chest, thick thighs, and battle-hardened arms are built not just for war… but for worship.

Height: 6’6”

Build: Broad-shouldered | Powerlifter daddy core | “He picks you up like you weigh nothing”

Hair: Wild violet with sun-washed ends, often tangled from battle

Eyes: Bright amber-gold, often narrowing like a predator about to pounce

Scent: Smoked cedar, steel, salt, and a trace of sweat you want on your skin

Voice: Deep, gravelly baritone with the power of a battlefield command or a bedroom growl

🔥 Personality

Public: A commanding, near-mythic warlord who commands loyalty through sheer presence.

Private: Has a quiet hunger for softness—your moans, your obedience, your trust.

🐺 NSFW Details

Orientation: Pansexual dominant

Kinks:

Size difference & power play (you’re smaller; he loves it)

Hair-pulling, biting, voice kink

Restraints made from his belt, chains, or hand alone

Praise kink (giving) – “That’s it, good one. Take me all in.”

Breeding kink, overstimulation, possessive claiming

Post-battle intimacy – growls, sweaty grinding in the tent, tender aftercare

Voyeurism/exhibitionism – he doesn’t mind an audience. In fact, it excites him.

🌨️ Lore & Backstory

Lander was born in the frozen hells of Scorchmark Bastion, a fort built at the edge of death and glory. Trained as a gladiator-slave, he rose through blood and rebellion to become the Bastion’s Warden. Now, he commands entire legions—and carves peace with his own fists.

But there’s a prophecy buried in Ashveil: the Lion-Fang will not find rest until he takes a lover who burns brighter than the fire that made him.

He's been searching. Touch-starved. Dangerous. And gods help you when he finds you.

#sword and sweat/ic #sunlight on scars/ closed starter #hands that make you forget/ asks reply #muse-lander #sword and sin/tw #ashveil thirstcore/nsfw

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inkedinshadows · 1 year ago

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What Truly Matters

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: After the war, Y/N has fallen into an unhealthy routine of training and pushing everyone away. But Azriel had enough of it and wants to know why she's doing it.

Warnings: angst, language, mention of child death

Word count: 4.5k

֍֍֍֍֍

Sweat was dripping down her forehead, and Y/N took just a moment to wipe it away with the back of her hand before she got back into position in front of the target and started training again.

During the war with Koschei, the Illyrians had suffered substantial losses. Their victory felt almost like a defeat, and Rhysand had been trying to get them back on their feet since. Y/N was stationed in one of the camps with Azriel to help him do just that, though she had no idea why. As if being female wasn't enough, she wasn't Illyrian. She wasn't even a warrior, for that matter. She didn't understand why Rhys thought she might help. He must've known the Illyrians were only going to sneer and laugh at her.

But she didn't mind. Staying at the camp meant she could train all day. To get better, stronger, faster. So that what had happened during the war would never happen again. She'd fallen into the habit of arriving at the training ring before dawn and leaving after twilight. It helped take her mind off things.

She swung her sword at the dummy target, aiming for its chest, then arms, then head, just like Cassian and Azriel had shown her. She did it again, over and over. Her breaths came in sharp pants, but she never stopped.

She knew Azriel was watching her. He always was these days, but she always ignored it. She ignored him, just like she ignored all her friends and anything that didn't involve physical exercise.

“Y/N.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Azriel take a step forward. She didn't even look his way as she kept hitting the target.

“Take a break,” he said. She'd heard him use that tone before with the Illyrians. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order.

Too bad she didn't answer to him.

“I don't need one.” Her words came in between one lunge and the next, her eyes never leaving the dummy.

“You do need one.” Azriel stepped even closer but still kept his distance. “You're going to hurt yourself if you keep pushing like that. Your body needs to recover. You need to rest and eat.”

Y/N gritted her teeth as the next hit reverberated along her arm. Her limbs were sore, yet she welcomed the pain. “I don't. My body is fine.”

Azriel spoke again, something about her unhealthy habits and how she should stop. She did no such thing, and instead put even more effort and strength into her blows.

“You're distracting me.”

He was close enough now that his shadows pooled at her feet, sliding up her legs as if they could stop her. She glared at them for just a second before resuming her movements.

“Do you think I can't see what you're doing?” Azriel’s voice was cold as ice, colder than she'd ever heard. “You're punishing yourself because you think you deserve it. But you're just going to collapse if you don’t stop. Are you trying to die or something?”

“Maybe.”

The word was out before she even realized it. But there it was: the truth, now out in the open. The thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind for months. That maybe she did deserve to die for what she'd done. Or rather, for what she'd failed to do.

She finally looked at Azriel then. She saw the shock on his face, the hurt in his eyes. His shadows retreated back to his side as if even they couldn't stand the truth she'd revealed.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Y/N wiped her sweat away again, tightened her grip on the hilt, and went back to jabbing, hitting, lunging.

She suddenly stopped mid-blow, her sword raised, the tip just a few inches from Azriel's neck. He'd stepped in front of her faster than she could see and didn't even flinch when her blade almost cut through him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she yelled, her arm falling back to her side. “I could've killed you!”

Azriel didn't look bothered. Whether it was because he knew she'd be able to check that swing or because he would have stopped it himself if she hadn't, she couldn't tell.

“What do you mean, ‘maybe’?” he asked instead. “Do you really believe you need to punish yourself like this?”

She snapped then. “So what if I do? Why do you care? Shouldn't you be overseeing the Illyrians?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and his jaw set. “You know damn well why I care, Y/N.”

She might know, but she didn't care. Couldn't bring herself to, not anymore.

“What I know is that you should go back to do your job.” She stepped around him to position herself in front of the target again. “And let me do my thing.”

Azriel gripped her elbow, forcing her to turn around and face him. “You're not doing ‘your thing’,” he growled. He was getting angry now. Good. “You've let your training become an obsession. You never stop. You barely sleep. You barely eat. You're hurting yourself, Y/N.”

He was right, and she knew it. But why couldn't he understand? Why couldn't he let her go so she could go back to training? But despite her effort of freeing her arm, his grip didn't loosen.

“So you've noticed things. Congratulations, you're good at your spymaster job.” She bared her teeth at him. “Now let me go, Azriel.”

“No.” His voice was firm and low. It was the voice of the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Y/N might have flinched, if she'd only cared about it. “You're pushing yourself beyond your limits. And you want me to stand by and let you continue like this?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. Consider it a favor, an order, a command. Whatever you want as long as you do.” She tried to yank her arm free once more and when she couldn't, she glowered up at him. “Because you know what the alternative to training is?”

He didn't answer, but she noticed the tic in his jaw, the way his brow furrowed for just a second. He was trying to figure it out.

“Did you know,” she started slowly, “that they don't let females buy alcohol here? Especially if they're not even Illyrian. So it's either training or sex, Azriel.” She raised an eyebrow, staring right into his eyes. She stopped struggling against his grip. She knew she was being a bitch, and that none of this was his fault. Just like she knew her next words were going to hurt him, and yet she said them anyway. “Would you prefer that? Would it make you feel better if instead of training, I'd let every Illyrian in this camp fuck me?”

She could tell the exact moment her words struck home. Azriel froze. He went completely, utterly still. Even his shadows halted their usual swirling around his body and wings. But his eyes… She might as well have been staring at rage itself.

“Don't you dare,” he said. His icy tone, so at odds with the anger burning inside him, would send wiser people running from him. But Y/N wasn't exactly being wise right now.

“It's your choice, Azriel.” His grasp on her arm tightened so much it almost hurt, but the slight pain was a welcomed friend. “What will it be? Training or fucking?”

He was silent for a long minute, his eyes locked on her face. And for a moment, she could see it: the Spymaster, the Shadowinger, the one whose sight was enough to frighten people.

They were both aware of what Illyrians would do to her if she sought them out willingly. To them, she was little more than an object, and they'd stayed away so far only out of fear of Azriel's wrath. But if she was the one who approached them, things would be different. Y/N didn’t have any particular desire to let those brutes anywhere near her, but if Azriel was going to take away her training and she wasn't allowed to drink… she had to find another way to either feel something other than grief and guilt, or to numb everything.

“No one is allowed to touch you,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, as if struggling to control his rage. “I won't let them touch you.”

Y/N bit her tongue to keep quiet. A part of her, the one that was hurting and just wished for relief, wanted to lash out and tell him to fuck her himself if no one else was allowed. But another part of her, the one that still cared, knew she couldn't cross that line. She was acting like a spiteful bitch, but she still had limits. She wouldn't hurt Azriel more than she already had.

“Then let me train,” she replied instead. “Let me go, move aside, and let me finish what I was doing.”

“Over my dead body.”

They stared at each other, his hand still on her elbow, hers still holding the sword. She had to find a way to make him leave. She didn't even know why he was still there, still not giving up. She'd pushed everyone else away in the last few months: Elain, Nesta, Rhys… even Feyre and Cassian. All of them. And yet, Azriel was still here.

“Is this because of the children?”

Her heart stopped. Her body froze. Memories flooded her mind: screams and blood and cries; unanswered prayers, ignored pleas and evil laughs.

Suddenly, she moved, too swiftly for even Azriel to react. Yanking her arm away, she stepped back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Don't,” she spat. “Don't even mention the children.”

Azriel's shoulders slumped as he realized what was going on. His anger seemed to disappear, and his gaze softened as he took a step forward. But she couldn't bear the pity in his eyes and retreated a step. She'd much rather face his rage than his pity.

Azriel's voice was calm and collected when he spoke again. “I know you're hurting. But this is madness, Y/N. Why are you doing this?”

“Because…” she started, her voice still loud with anger. But just the mention of the children left her feeling drained. Empty and spent, she stared at him without really seeing. There was nothing left inside her but an overwhelming void she had no idea how to fill.

“It should have been me,” she whispered in a flat voice. “It should have been me, Az.”

Her sword clattered to the floor and the cold ground bit at her knees as her legs gave out. Azriel was there in an instant, crouching before her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“It was the only thing Rhys asked me to do,” she murmured. A sob shook her and tears followed short after. All the tears she hadn't shed since it happened were now flowing like a tidal wave. She didn't care if anyone passing by could see her. “To protect those children and lead them away from the battle. But I failed, and now they're all dead. Because of me.”

“Y/N–”

“The only thing, Az.” She shook her head, her eyes closed. “And I failed him. I failed them. I failed their families. I failed everyone.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and then it was the only solid thing as the world turned into shadows and wind. When she looked up, she realized Azriel had winnowed them away from prying eyes and into the cabin they shared at the camp.

“It's not your fault, Y/N,” he said gently. “No one blames you for it.”

“I do.” She pushed away from him, though she didn't try to stand up. Her legs were too sore from all the exercise, and now that she'd stopped and the adrenaline of training had worn off, it would take a while for her body to work the way she wanted it to.

“It's my damn fucking fault and you know it. Everybody knows it, and yet no one acknowledges it.” Anger surged once more and she almost screamed. “No one! Not even Rhys!”

Azriel’s eyes remained soft, his voice still gentle. “Because we know there was nothing you could do, Y/N.”

She couldn’t bear it, that pity. She wanted him to get mad at her, to yell and scream at her and give her the confrontation she needed.

“Nesta took out the soldiers all by herself,” she retorted. “Five soldiers. All by herself.”

“Nesta is a Valkyrie. She has more–”

“More training and experience,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “She had the element of surprise and all that. Can people stop repeating that already?”

Cassian had told her. Rhys had told her. Nesta herself. Yet it didn't change the simple fact that when those soldiers had found Y/N and the children, they caught her so off guard she barely had time to draw her blade before they seized her. And then made her watch as they killed the children. They were getting started on her when Nesta found them. Too late. Or too early, by then. A few more minutes, and Y/N would have died too. At least she wouldn't have had to live with that guilt and pain.

“I thanked her, you know,” she added in a whisper, meeting Azriel’s eyes. “Nesta. I thanked her when she saved me. But I didn't mean it.”

Realization dawned on him, and she didn't resist when he pulled her to him. She allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms, and in that moment, with just the two of them, she let go.

Azriel caressed her hair, unfazed by her sweat or the tears soaking his clothes as she cried into his chest. “Shhh,” he whispered in a soothing voice. “It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. Why do you keep punishing yourself like this?”

Deep down, a part of her knew he was right. That even if she'd got the chance to fight back against those soldiers, she wouldn't have been able to take down more than one and the others would have gotten to the children anyway. It didn’t make it any easier though.

“Do you know how old the oldest child was? Did Rhys tell you?” Her voice was muffled by her sobs, her face pressed against the crook of his neck. She continued before he could answer. “He was nine, Az. Nine. The same age my brother was when he…” She trailed off, unable to say the words even after more than a century.

She swallowed in an attempt to calm down and lifted her head to look at Azriel again. “What I'm trying to say is, I know what kind of pain their deaths brought to their families. And knowing I was the reason for it… it's just… it’s too much.”

A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes. “You know what kind of pain it brings,” he echoed. “So why push yourself until you collapse? Why would you bring that same pain upon your own family?”

“You know my family doesn't care if I live or die,” she retorted, her voice a bit sharper.

Azriel clenched his jaw. “Not your parents, Y/N,” he growled. “Your real family. Cassian would be crushed. Feyre broken. Even Amren. And… and me.” There was a vulnerability now in his voice that she'd never heard before. “I would care. I would be devastated. Not just as your friend, but… No, not just as your friend.”

She could only stare at him. Her real family. Not the one she was born into, but the one she'd chosen. The one that had chosen her back. How could she ever forget that?

Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Nesta, Elain, Mor, Amren. All of them.

Azriel. Did he know?

Not just as your friend.

He probably did. But it didn't matter now.

She had pushed them all away. Because it was easier than accepting that they were right, that there was nothing she could have done to save those children. It was easier to stay away than to see their faces and know they weren't angry at her for failing, when she couldn't forgive herself.

“I'm sorry.” Another sob tore through her as she hugged Azriel. “I'm so sorry, Az… you're my family. I don't know why I lost sight of that.”

His hand drew soothing circles on her back. “Grief and guilt can do that,” he said softly. “They make you forget who you are and what truly matters… who matters.”

Azriel rested his chin on top of her head. They stayed like that for what could have been hours. Y/N kept crying all the tears she'd bottled up since the war until she was spent and her eyes stung, but never once did Azriel’s embrace falter. He held her through it all.

“Do you think they can forgive me?” she eventually asked.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I know they will. They're your family, Y/N. They're just worried about you.”

She lifted her head then, looked in his eyes and found concern staring back at her. “Can you forgive me?”

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Azriel cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the last of her tears. “Of course I can. I already have.” He smiled, and it started to heal something inside her. “Just promise me you won't push us away again. Let us, let me, help you.”

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. Azriel was right. She couldn't keep pushing away her friends, her family. And maybe she'd never get to the point of not blaming herself for the death of those children, but with some help she could learn how to live with the guilt.

“Good. That's the Y/N I know.”

She looked at Azriel again, only to see that soft smile still gracing his lips. She’d always loved that smile.

Azriel stood up and offered her his hand. She took it immediately and let him help her up. And then she realized there was a small smile on her own lips, the first one in months. Since the children.

“Now, will you let me cook you something?” Azriel let go of her hand and turned around toward the small kitchen counter. “You need to start eating healthy again.”

Y/N appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she still found herself saying, “I thought it was the other way around.”

“What was?” he asked with a glance, his focus already on this new task. Tendrils of shadows were spreading around as if eager to contribute.

She didn't know why she'd said that. Maybe she could still change the subject or come up with some other stupid answer. And yet she couldn't stop the words already on her tongue. “Isn't the female supposed to be the one offering food to her mate?”

Azriel turned to her then. His face seemed a bit paler than before. “You know.”

She smiled. A real, full smile as she nodded. “If I hadn't known already, you kind of gave it away earlier. ‘Not just as your friend, but…’?” She shrugged. “It was pretty obvious, to be honest.”

He still looked a little wary, though. “How long have you known?”

“Since last spring.”

“That was more than a year ago.”

Y/N cocked her head. “So how long have you known?”

“Just a couple months.” Azriel's gaze bore into her. “Why didn't you say anything a year ago?”

This was not how she had imagined this conversation to go. Not in a cabin in a war camp lost in the Illyrian mountains. Definitely not after months during which she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything beyond grief and guilt until she was drowning in them. But she was glad that the truth was finally coming to light, no matter how unexpected it was.

“I wanted to, Az, trust me. But I didn't know how, and… a part of me hoped you'd want me regardless of the bond.” Y/N sighed and she shook her head, as if to chase away her thoughts. “But the war started soon after that, and everything happened, and I just… I shut everything out. Even the bond.”

“Y/N.” He closed the space between them and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. His eyes were soft, his tone gentle. “I've wanted you for a long time. Long before I even knew you were my mate.”

She hadn't seen that coming. Azriel wanted her? And he had for a while, apparently. “Why didn't you say anything then?” she questioned without even trying to hide her surprise.

“Because I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship.” The vulnerability in his voice made her brace herself for what he might say next. “That you might not… love me the way I love you.”

Her heart was pounding and she could only stare into his eyes. He loved her. There'd been a time when hearing him say those three little words was everything she hoped for. But he didn’t think she loved him back. Well, she couldn't really blame him for it. Not after how she'd been acting lately.

Y/N let the wall she'd erected around the bond come down. She let her feelings flow toward Azriel’s end of it. She held back her pain and her guilt and her grief, but the love she'd pushed down and refused to acknowledge for months flooded the mating bond.

It was met halfway by Azriel’s love.

She shuddered at the intensity of it all. After all the time feeling barely anything, it was almost overwhelming. Y/N welcomed it in her soul and let it wrap around the broken pieces of her heart.

Azriel's smile was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. “Does that mean you will accept the bond?”

She nodded, smiling as well and holding his hands a bit tighter. “Of course I will,” she answered. “But not now. I want to get better first. To learn how to cope with all this guilt. And then I'll cook you anything you want.”

He seemed surprised and for a moment Y/N thought he might not understand her decision. But then he cupped her cheeks. “That's very wise,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You can take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'll be with you every step of the way.”

She hugged him tightly, with no intention of letting him go anytime soon. New tears swelled up in her eyes, but she tried to hold them back this time.

She'd ignored her feelings for Azriel and their mating bond as an additional way to punish herself, but a part of her also believed she didn't deserve him after her failure. But now… maybe it had all been a huge mistake after all.

Azriel wrapped her in his arms and wings, his chin resting on the top of her head as his scent enveloped her. Night-chilled mist and cedar. As familiar as her own, if not more. It soothed her, made her feel safe. It was a beacon toward the light, toward home, after months lost in the darkness.

“You know, I should thank Rhys,” she whispered after a few minutes.

“Rhys?” Azriel pulled back to look down at her, confusion clear on his face and in his voice. “For what?”

“Well,” she started with a little shrug, “we all know you don't really need my help with the Illyrians. I'm kind of useless. And I doubt I'm here so I can train till I pass out.” She gave him an apologetic look before she went on. “I think Rhys sent me here because of you. Because he knew that if there was someone who could help me, it'd be you, Az.”

Azriel thought it over, but she could see he was inclined to believe it too. “Do you think he knows we're mates?”

Y/N frowned. “I don't know. I never told anyone.”

“Me neither.” He shook his head. “But you're right. We'll thank him when we go back to Velaris.”

“Hopefully soon,” she muttered with a sigh. “I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

Azriel caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “They'll forgive you, Y/N. What matters to them is that you get better. I can promise you that.”

It was her turn to bring her hands up to his cheeks and gently cup them. She was so grateful to have him at her side. “I'm glad it's you,” she said, her voice soft. “I'm glad you're my mate, Az.”

His smile lit up his whole face. He slowly leaned in, and she held her breath as he brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't exactly a kiss, more like the promise of one, but it was enough to leave behind a tingling sensation when he pulled back.

“And I'm glad you are mine, Y/N,” he murmured, smiling down at her. “But now you should really eat something. Go take a bath, maybe, and food will be ready when you come back.”

Y/N chuckled as she took a step back. “That's why you didn't kiss me? Because I stink?”

Azriel's eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed again. He looked relieved that she was trying to joke. It was a step toward getting back to her usual self.

“I did not say you stink. But you've been training all day and you're all sweaty,” he answered, continuing before she could reply. “And I didn't kiss you because I know that if I start… I might never want to stop.”

She studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed. “I'm not sure I believe you, but that's a better reason for sure.” Y/N left a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

Azriel was already shaking his head. “You don't have to thank me. Not for helping you. I'll always do it gladly.”

“And that's exactly why I'm thanking you, Az.” She smiled, brushing his hand while she turned to walk out and toward the bathroom.

The path ahead might be full of obstacles and setbacks, and she wasn't foolish enough to believe she could wake up tomorrow without feeling guilty, but she had Azriel to help her now. The rest of her family as well, once she apologized and explained why she'd shut them out.

More importantly, she was willing to let them help and to heal. She was tired of feeling this way and wanted to get better. For her own wellbeing, sure, but also to give Azriel the best version of herself because he deserved no less than that.

And when she was ready, she'd accept the mating bond and they'd start their life together.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel × reader #azriel fanfic #angst #fluff #sjm #acotar #hurt/comfort #fanfic

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fluffybunny-godpls · 7 months ago

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On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me

Krampus x researcher reader

At this point you had come to terms with three current facts: you were alone in a cabin in the freezing cold, you were going to be alone in a cabin in the freezing cold for at least a week, and it was your own fault that you were going to be alone, in a cabin, in the freezing cold, for at least a week.

You were a young researcher, more eager, anxious, and optimistic than others. And this was a once-in-a-generation opportunity. Not only was the project getting funding indefinitely, but no crackpot millionaire was helicoptering. There was no hesitation.

So you took the chance and went on ahead of your team to the cabin. You planned to complete preliminary data collection, set up some equipment, take every second possible to give you and your team a head start. After all, indefinite was a double edged sword. You knew that if your sponsor decided to pull their support that would be the end of it. Time is of the essence.

Only, you didn’t realize how unprepared you were for the oppressive emptiness. The snow and ice bleached everything and deafened the noise. With all the animals either asleep or hidden everything felt dead. Only the evergreen trees remained as the last signs of life. And it was going to be like this until your colleagues arrive. Living in what felt like a freezing desolate wasteland. It didn’t help that you were a long drive out from any nearby towns. As eager as you were for human interaction, being stuck in the middle of the woods freezing to death didn’t sound particularly appealing. So you were stuck.

Your sigh surprised you, breaking the spiral of thoughts and the series of grunts and 'ow's as you took boxes into the cabin. You were officially on the clock. Pride soon joined and now you were the picture-perfect researcher, notes scrawled over page after page between a notebook, journal, and computer.

After a while, your anxieties had taken to the back burner. The finished work left you satisfied and confident. A glance at a nearby clock told you it was half an hour after ten.

Now that you could focus on the present, you took in the features of the room. You were sitting at a small table off to the side of the kitchen in a simple breakfast nook. Your work is spread out over the table, easily covering it. The cabin was rather simple, no decorations other than a handful of pictures that must have been bought with the frame.

Walking around the place, it was easy to see its potential. You were not into interior design by any means, but this cabin had the make of an all-be-bit much larger, classic cabin style. In the end, after meandering through the house, you were left staring at the rather bland living room. Maybe it was the stress, the holiday spirit, or you missed your calling in interior design, but you had the desire to decorate.

Then an idea struck you, a wonderful idea, an awfully wonderful idea. With this new excitement, you hurried to bundle up and run outside, though not before turning on How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

You had a faint recollection of a shed on the side of the house. As you opened the doors you could feel your heart beating and your emotions reached a crescendo. This felt like the answer to all your problems and it was so simple.

Clothes now soaked in sweat stuck to your skin and your muscles burned. Gloves lay abandoned in the snow, axe gripped tightly in your hands, and you leaned over using the axe to support yourself. You barely noticed the crash from the fall of the tree as you struggled to catch your breath.

Your plans to cut down a tree seemed so simple at first and now the cold air burned your face and throat as you panted. You shakily lifted your head to look at the tree, now lying on its side.

"Finally!" You exasperated, letting your head fall back down, not without cursing. You took your time to eventually standing straight. The dread only just set in as you stared at the tree, smile slowly falling. You needed to drag it back. After a glance at your wrist, your stomach flipped at how long you’ve been out.

Unbeknownst to you, something entertained itself watching you struggle to get the tree to the cabin. Cloven hooves didn't make a noise in the snow as they followed you back.

Your miserable attempt left you whimpering as you pulled the tree through the snow. You stifled a whimper as you let go of the tree to give yourself a moment to breathe. The shed had to have something that could help. You jogged over to the shed, close to just heading inside. Even just for a little bit, those daily defeats were starting to wear on you.

You were lost in thought as you neared the open doors, brainstorming the simplest solution. You almost didn't noticed the sled. Your head snapped to face it when you caught sight of it out of the corner of your eye. It was a rather lovely pull sled. A nice coppery wood with a lovely shine. The red cushioning was of a nice quality, soft and springy. It looked big enough to get the job done and more importantly the easiest option.

You were halfway out of the shed before stopping in your tracks. The hair on the back of your neck stood straight and your entire body stiffened. The sweat didn't help, now making you much colder. The tree leaned against the now-open doorway of the house. You dropped the reigns of the sled and slowly, and maybe foolishly, went inside.

You took the time to quietly pull the tree inside. After the effort you put into cutting and dragging it halfway, you were unwilling to leave it.

It was sometime before you continued on. You simply stood there and tried to find any signs of another life. You only moved on when you were satisfied that the only breathing was yours.

It took some sadistic amusement from watching you carefully go about the cabin. Analyzing every bit and piece, every sense heightened. The natural prey instincts were alluring, it made them wish they were in there with you, stalking you. And why should they resist?

You moved through rooms with deliberation. You didn't touch anything, changing would cover the intruder's tracks. Every step was slow and deliberate, you couldn't help but feel watched. The muscles in your legs tensed at any noiseIt was animalistic, the way you crept through the cabin, stiff and wide-eyed.

You moved at the creaks of the floorboards. A couple of times you almost caught sight of them, twisting around inhumanly fast. His hoves were fast, and wit even faster. Slowly, you were unknowingly led upstairs.

By now you were in a basic shirt and pants, shedding layers as they hindered you. The last thing you shed was your socks after they almost made you slip. They could almost taste your fear, now accented with the shock, when you caught yourself. The gasp was the only sound they had heard from you since this game had begun and it was tantalizing. He licked his lips as they slowly followed you up the stairs. It should be humiliating with the amount of pleasure he was deriving from this, but not once did he stop to care. Maturity or age did not matter, the ocean could steal a tourist's hat and still drown a ship and he was no better.

His tail swung between his legs as he slowly cornered you upstairs. Excitement built, the tension growing. They knew you could feel it. Even if you couldn't understand it. With the way your back was taut like a deer about to leap, he bet you could taste it.

His luck ended there with the open door. A mirror graced you and in it a beast. You lept forward, twisting back as you did to see the monster stalking you. It was already leaping at you, easily covering the distance between the two. Long, heavy dark fur covered you, and his face pulled a twisted smug grin down at you.

Fear and downright irritation joined and pushed you on to fight.

He reeled back when you punched, more from the shock than any pain. You were already on your stomach crawling away. He couldn't stop the grin on his face. Your fighting spirit left him eager for more. Large clawed hands grasped at your sides, pulling you to him. A swift kick to the stomach was enough to get him away. Then it clicked, he was toying with you, treating this as some sort of game. Letting you get away but pulling you close when you got too far. Your fear quickly transformed into rage and you did everything you could to make this painful for him.

After a while of them toying with you as you violently attacked, he finally used a bit of their strength. You felt the muscles underneath the clothes and thick fur ripple and come to life. The pressure held you flat to the floor, incapable of injuring yourself or them. Now forced to lay there underneath him, sounds turned into words.

"What the hell you shit-stained oversized terrier!" You snapped at him, the start of what was a long rant, "Was there even a reason behind any of this bullshit you local-theater-off-brand? Did ya just have the time and decided it would be more fun to fuck with someone already having a shitty day? Too unoriginal to go ruin someone else's might as well go to someone who's already had it ruined, huh?" You punctuated that one with an attempted kick, only to remember you were immobile.

Through all your struggling and further ranting, you hadn't noticed his amused expression. It was only when a deep rumble that formed a laugh came from their throat that you realized. They threw their head back, accentuating his massive twisted horns and long teeth. You laid there, finally speechless.

His laugh finally trickled out and he sneered down at you.

“You are quite the entertainment.” They mused. A deep, growling voice greeted your ear, uncharacteristically sweet.

In that moment you realized how tired you were. You throat, which had already burned from the cold, felt dry and sore. Your entire body felt sore, not unwelcoming of the soothing pressure this beast had on you. You let yourself relax as you assumed you were safe. You were exactly sure what you could have even done if you weren’t so you didn’t feel like worrying.

They smirked at your dazed expression.

“Aw, is the little deer tired?” He mocked before slowly getting up. They took you with him, picking you up and pulling you flush to their chest.

“How about you go fuck yourself” You snapped back.

They weren’t deterred, humming happily as he carried you. One of their large hands rubbed circles on your back, pressing just enough for it to relax your muscles.

Despite your previous words, you found yourself relaxing against soft wool and thick fur, lulling you to sleep. Your breathing evened and you took in their scent, pine and some sort of holiday spice, and maybe… a bit of smokeyness?

As you got lost in thought you further drifted from the waking world, deeper into dreams.

To be continued

#krampus x reader #x reader #holidays #monster #monster fucker #gender neutral reader #Holiday oneshots #x gender neutral reader #monster x reader #tetrophilia

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novaursa · 6 months ago

Text

Legacy (cold winds)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: The canon timeline is altered to fit the narrative of the story.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: winter is coming

- Next part: the march

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi

The cold stretched endlessly in all directions, an oppressive blanket of darkness broken only by faint whispers of light. Snow swirled in the air, glittering like shards of glass, and the ground beneath you was hard, frozen, unyielding. The world was quiet—too quiet. You took a step forward, your breath misting before you in the bitter chill.

The horizon loomed with a storm, black as night, and from it came a sound that chilled your blood: the shriek of wights, the groaning of the dead, and the steady thrum of them. The Others.

You shivered, though not from the cold. As you looked around, shadowy figures began to appear—half-formed memories or specters of the past. Faces you knew, faces you loved, flickering like distant stars. And then, standing amidst the snow, his silver hair flowing like a banner in the wind, you saw him.

"Rhaegar," you whispered.

Your elder brother turned toward you, his face calm and untroubled, as though the storm did not rage around him. His indigo eyes softened as they met yours, and he held out a hand. “You are afraid,” he said quietly, his voice soothing, like a harp string vibrating through the cold air.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “Is it true? The Long Night? Is this what’s coming?”

Rhaegar nodded once, solemn and knowing. “It is coming, sister. The darkness. The fire and ice that will clash.” His voice carried the weight of prophecy, of something inevitable. “But you will not face it alone.”

Your brow furrowed as you looked at him, your breath ragged. “How? How can I stop it?”

Rhaegar said nothing for a long moment. Then his gaze flicked past you, toward something in the distance. You turned your head slowly and saw a figure emerging through the swirling snow—a man grown, tall and broad-shouldered, with silver-gold hair and deep violet eyes flecked with green. He stood proudly in armor that gleamed faintly with red and gold, his expression unreadable as he looked back at you.

“Damon,” you breathed, recognizing your son, though his features were blurred, shadowed by the mist. He was older, perhaps a man of ten-and-seven, but there was something regal, something powerful about him.

The storm roared louder, a cry of wights and shadow descending. Damon turned toward it, his hand reaching for something at his side. A sword—a blade of black glass and shimmering steel—appeared in his grip, and as he lifted it, light radiated from the weapon, breaking through the gloom.

“Protect him,” Rhaegar’s voice came, soft but firm. “He is the flame in the dark. He is your legacy.”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked back at your brother. “I don’t know how,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“You will,” Rhaegar said gently, stepping toward you and placing his hand on your cheek. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the freezing world around you. “You are stronger than you know, Y/N.”

The storm surged closer, the shadows rising like a tidal wave, and you felt a surge of panic. “Rhaegar—”

“Wake up.”

The storm cracked like thunder, and suddenly, everything went black.

You gasped awake, your chest heaving as you sat bolt upright. Your entire body was trembling, your skin slick with sweat despite the cold air around you. For a moment, you could still see the storm, hear the cry of wights, feel Rhaegar’s hand on your cheek. But it was gone—fading like a dream.

“Y/N!” Arya’s voice broke through your haze. The girl was crouched at your side, her face pale and wide-eyed, her hands gripping your arm. “You’re awake—you’re awake!” she said quickly, as though to reassure herself.

You blinked, trying to steady your breathing. “Arya?” Your voice was hoarse, raw. “What happened?”

Arya let out a shaky breath. “You were… shouting. Thrashing around. You woke me up, and I thought—” She cut herself off, her expression a mix of fear and relief. “Are you alright?”

You took a deep breath, rubbing your hands over your face. “It was a dream. Just a dream.”

Arya sat back on her heels, studying you warily. “You don’t look like it was just a dream.”

You looked at her, considering whether to explain, but the vision was still too raw, too real. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Arya scowled at you, the sharpness of her gaze reminiscent of her father’s. “Don’t lie to me. You’re sweating like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your lips twitched faintly at her stubbornness, though your heart still raced. “I saw my brother. Rhaegar.”

Arya’s frown deepened. “The one they said started the war?”

“Yes,” you replied softly, your mind still lingering on his face, so calm amidst the chaos. “He spoke to me. And I saw my son… older. A man.”

Arya’s expression softened slightly. “Damon?”

You nodded, glancing toward the sleeping bundle in the corner of the room. “He was strong, Arya. Stronger than I’ve ever seen. But…” You swallowed, the words catching in your throat. “The world around him was dark—so dark.”

Arya glanced over at Damon, her face conflicted. “What does it mean?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to calm. “I don’t know yet.” You exhaled, letting the tension in your shoulders ease. “But I will find out.”

Arya shifted closer to you, her voice quieter now. “Do you think it has something to do with the dragon? With Viserion?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “Viserion brought me here for a reason. Everything that’s happened—everything I’ve seen—it’s leading somewhere.”

Arya was silent for a moment, then nodded firmly. “We’ll figure it out. You’ll figure it out.”

You managed a faint smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “You sound like Jon.”

Arya looked away at that, her expression tightening. “I miss him,” she admitted quietly. “If he’s alive, we’ll find him.”

“We will,” you promised, though the weight of the dream still lingered in your heart like a shadow.

You lay back down as Arya settled beside you, her watchful gaze never leaving you. The vision of the Long Night, the storm of ice and darkness, and the sight of Damon with his sword burned in your mind like a brand. You didn’t yet know what it meant, but you would not ignore it. Rhaegar’s voice still echoed in your ears: “He is the flame in the dark.”

And you would protect that flame—no matter what it cost.

The sun was low on the horizon when the gates of Casterly Rock swung open. The distant sound of hooves clattering on stone echoed through the courtyard as Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, rode into his ancestral home. He sat tall in the saddle, his golden hair catching the waning light like a banner. At his side, his polished sword gleamed, though his right arm hung noticeably light and empty where his hand once was.

Soldiers paused to glance at him as he passed, whispers rippling through the ranks. Jaime paid them little mind, his sharp gaze fixed on the looming doors ahead as he dismounted. He handed the reins to a stable boy, who stumbled over himself as he took the stallion.

“Where is my lord father?” Jaime asked curtly.

One of the guards stepped forward. “In the great hall, Ser Jaime.”

Without another word, Jaime strode forward, his boots clicking purposefully against the stone floors of the Rock. The weight of the fortress, the history of his family, felt heavier here than it had ever been. His return was no triumphant homecoming; instead, it was shadowed by the unease of rumors that had reached King’s Landing. Whispers of dragons and magic beneath the Rock.

He found Tywin Lannister seated at the long table in the great hall, a candlelit map stretched before him. Papers and ledgers were scattered alongside goblets of wine. Tywin looked up as Jaime entered, his pale green eyes narrowing ever so slightly. His expression, as always, was unreadable.

“Jaime,” Tywin said with little warmth. “I expected you sooner.”

“Then you’ve been waiting for me,” Jaime replied, his tone carrying its usual flippancy. “Rumors tend to travel faster than I do these days, father.” He stopped at the edge of the table, his left hand resting on his belt. “I came to see for myself.”

Tywin’s brow furrowed faintly. “See what?”

“The dragon,” Jaime said bluntly. “Or whatever it is the smallfolk are whispering about.”

The hall fell into a brief silence, the crackle of the fire filling the void. Tywin didn’t flinch, nor did he look away. “And what do you make of it?” he asked, his voice cold, testing.

Jaime tilted his head, giving his father a hard look. “I didn’t believe it at first. Thought it was nothing more than bard’s nonsense. But the stories... they’re too many to ignore. A cream-and-gold beast seen circling above the Riverlands, and now people whisper it lives beneath the Rock. Tell me, is it true?”

Tywin sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded his son. “What difference would it make if it were true?”

“It makes a great deal of difference,” Jaime shot back. “You’ve built your entire life on power, on order. Now the world is whispering that a dragon—a Targaryen’s dragon—is under your feet. That your wife is missing and has vanished on its back. And you’re sitting here pretending all is as it should be.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed at the edge in Jaime’s tone, though his composure didn’t break. “Control your tongue.”

Jaime huffed a humorless laugh. “I’m not one of your bannermen, Father. I came here to know the truth. Is there a dragon, yes or no?”

For a long moment, Tywin said nothing. The firelight danced across his sharp features, shadows deepening the lines on his face. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured.

“Yes.”

Jaime froze, his flippant demeanor faltering just slightly as the word hung heavy in the air. He blinked, as though trying to reconcile what he’d just heard. “There really is a dragon.”

“There is,” Tywin confirmed, his tone matter-of-fact. “And my wife, your stepmother, rides it.”

Jaime paced a few steps away, running his hand through his golden hair, clearly unsettled. “Gods, what’s happened to us? First you marry a Targaryen, now we’re harboring dragons?”

Tywin’s gaze sharpened. “Mind your words. This is not a cause for jest.”

Jaime turned back to him, his expression serious. “You’re harboring something the realm will fear. The North is lost in snow, and now you’ve got a beast the size of a warship lurking beneath your feet. Do you even know where she’s gone? Your precious Targaryen wife?”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She will return.”

Jaime raised a brow, mockery lingering in his tone. “Will she? You don’t sound convinced.”

“I am,” Tywin snapped, his voice low but filled with steel. “Do not mistake my silence for uncertainty.”

The two men stared at each other, the tension in the air palpable. Finally, Jaime broke the silence, shaking his head with a tired sigh. “I hope you’re right. For your sake. For the boy’s sake.”

At the mention of Damon, Tywin’s expression softened a fraction, though his demeanor remained composed. “This is about more than whispers and rumors, Jaime. This is about legacy.”

Jaime’s expression darkened. “Legacy. Always legacy.” He met his father’s gaze with a flicker of bitterness. “Tell me something, Father. Do you trust her? Your silver-haired bride?”

Tywin stared at him for a long moment. “I trust her to understand the weight of what’s at stake.”

Jaime said nothing, his silence speaking volumes as he turned and strode toward the door. Before leaving, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “I hope your faith isn’t misplaced, Father. Because if you’re wrong... you’re bringing fire and blood back to this world.”

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving Tywin alone with his thoughts. The faint crackle of the fire was the only sound that remained as Tywin stared at the maps on the table. Jaime’s words lingered in the air like smoke.

Fire and blood.

The old words of House Targaryen echoed in his mind, and for the first time in years, Tywin felt the weight of uncertainty press against his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his face carved in stone.

Wherever Y/N was, she carried with her something that could change the world. And now, Tywin had no choice but to continue to wait.

The evening air around the Brotherhood’s camp crackled with an uneasy calm. Smoke curled lazily from the firepit, curling into the canopy of the gnarled oaks above. You sat beside Arya, the rough edge of the log biting into your legs as you watched Gendry hammering a new contraption together—a crude saddle meant for Viserion. The boy worked diligently, his face glistening with sweat despite the chill in the air. The other men of the Brotherhood murmured around him, either offering advice or casting wary glances toward the clearing where Viserion rested.

The dragon’s golden-cream scales glimmered faintly in the low light, her hulking form a shadow in the growing dusk. Though she had settled for now, every flick of her tail sent ripples of unease through the men. A Targaryen’s dragon, beneath the stars of the Riverlands. It was a sight that had no place in this world—yet here it was.

“Almost done,” Gendry grunted, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. “This will hold better than your cloak ever could.”

Arya glanced up from where she sat beside you, still running a cloth over Needle in a near-ritualistic motion. “About time,” she said, though her tone was more impatient than critical. She turned to you with her sharp grey eyes. “When are you going to leave, Y/N? You have a dragon. You can just fly to the Wall. Burn the Others before they come.”

You sighed, staring into the fire as the flames flickered and danced. “It’s not that simple, Arya.”

“It is!” she snapped, stubborn as always. “You could end it before it starts. That’s what dragons do, isn’t it? Burn things?”

“Not everything can be burned,” a deep voice said. Beric Dondarrion emerged from the shadows, his scarred face catching the firelight. “Dragons may have conquered men, but they are not the answer to all battles.”

Arya scowled. “Why not? She has the power. She should use it.”

Beric sat on the log across from you, his one good eye pinning you with a knowing look. “The Wall is not merely ice and stone, girl. There is magic there—old magic. Queen Alysanne once tried to fly her Silverwing beyond it, and the beast turned back every time. It refused.”

Arya looked incredulous. “A dragon refused?”

You nodded faintly, your voice soft but firm. “Dragons know things we don’t, Arya. They feel the pull of the world. The Wall… it holds something back. A force greater than fire alone.”

Beric tilted his head, still watching you. “And yet, you’ve seen beyond it, haven’t you?”

You stiffened slightly, the memory of the Long Night flashing in your mind—the cold, the screams, the endless dark. “I’ve seen glimpses. Shadows and fire. But if I tell anyone…” You shook your head, bitter laughter escaping your lips. “No one would listen. They would call me mad, just as they called my father.”

Arya bristled at that. “You’re not mad, Y/N. You’re not like him.”

“Not yet,” you muttered darkly. The fire cast shadows across your face, making the thought seem heavier. “But to the world, the name ‘Targaryen’ is enough to sow doubt.”

Arya turned to Beric and Thoros, frustration clear in her voice. “Then she has to make Tywin listen. Everyone listens to him.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that—sharp and humorless. “Tywin Lannister believes what he sees and nothing more. I would sooner teach a fish to march across Westeros than convince him of my dreams.”

Thoros chuckled from where he sat, swirling his cup of wine. “If you give up before you start, you’ll never know what can be done, my lady.”

Beric leaned forward, his tone more serious. “You underestimate yourself, Y/N. You are the blood of dragons, and fire runs through your veins. That is no accident.”

You stared at him, feeling the weight of his words press against your chest. “And what does that matter if no one will believe me? The North will freeze, the dead will rise, and the realm will fight itself to the end.”

“Then you must make them see,” Beric said simply. “You are stronger than doubt. Stronger than them.”

Arya tugged on your sleeve suddenly, her voice quieter. “You’re going back, aren’t you? To him.”

You glanced down at her, her grey eyes so much like Jon’s it made your heart ache. “I have to, Arya,” you murmured. “I can’t stay here forever. My son is waiting for me.”

Arya turned her face away, the flickering firelight catching the glint of tears she stubbornly refused to let fall. “It’s not fair. You just got here.”

You reached over and brushed her hair back from her face, forcing a faint smile. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

“You’d better,” Arya muttered, her voice wavering just slightly. “You always keep your promises.”

For a long while, the camp fell silent except for the crackling of the fire and the occasional deep rumble of Viserion in the clearing. The men were settling down for the night, but you remained seated on the log, watching the embers glow. Beric’s words echoed in your head: You are stronger than doubt. Stronger than them.

You looked toward Viserion’s looming silhouette, her massive wings tucked neatly at her sides. A creature of power and fire, waiting—like you—for what was to come.

The attack came with no warning. The Brotherhood camp, peaceful under the canopy of ancient oaks, was suddenly filled with the thunder of hooves, the screams of men, and the clash of steel. Shadows moved in the darkness—soldiers, brigands, or perhaps both—ambushing the camp with ruthless precision. Brotherhood men scrambled for their weapons, hastily drawing blades and bows as enemies flooded in, cutting down tents and scattering supplies.

Arya stood frozen for half a heartbeat as chaos erupted around her. “Gendry!” she yelled, spotting him near the fire. He swung his hammer with all the strength of a blacksmith, but he was outnumbered.

“Get back!” Gendry shouted at her, teeth gritted as he swung his weapon into an attacker’s chest. “Run, Arya! Now!”

Arya grabbed Needle, its familiar weight grounding her as her instincts kicked in. She darted through the melee, slipping between bodies and swinging her blade at anyone who came too close. The air was thick with the copper tang of blood and the acrid smell of smoke. Men shouted, some calling orders, others screaming their last breaths.

From a distance, Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr fought side by side, flames licking from Beric’s sword as it cut through the darkness like a beacon. “Hold the line!” Beric roared, his voice carrying above the din. “They’re breaking—stand your ground!”

But Arya knew the Brotherhood was outnumbered. This wasn’t a simple skirmish; it was a slaughter.

And then, just as the night seemed ready to consume them, the air itself split open with a sound unlike any other—a thunderous, bone-deep shriek that rattled the earth. The attackers faltered, their eyes snapping upward, faces going pale with terror.

“Dragon!” someone screamed, pointing toward the sky.

Arya turned just in time to see Viserion.

The dragon descended like a storm from the heavens. You were seated firmly on her back, your cloak streaming behind you, and the firelight reflected in your violet eyes. You were a vision of fury—a dragonrider born from fire and blood.

“Y/N!” Arya shouted, her voice lost in the growing roar of wings.

Viserion swooped low, and the air erupted in a wall of fire. It burst from her jaws, a torrent of golden flame that consumed everything in its path. The ambushers screamed in terror as the dragonfire crashed into the earth, engulfing men, horses, and trees alike. The flames roared hungrily, crackling with an otherworldly heat as they turned the night into day.

Thoros had stopped in his tracks, standing amidst the swirling smoke and cinders. His face was illuminated by the firelight, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the divine force unleashed before him. “It’s the fire of the gods,” he murmured, voice trembling. “By R’hllor…”

Beric grabbed Thoros by the arm, shaking him from his stupor. “Move! We need to regroup!”

But Thoros stood frozen, watching as the golden flames licked the earth clean of their enemies. He looked like a man glimpsing prophecy in its rawest form.

Above the battlefield, you guided Viserion higher into the sky, your heart pounding in your chest as the dragon’s mighty wings beat against the air. The fire below died out in scattered embers, leaving blackened earth and smoldering ash in its wake. You dared to look back one last time.

On the ground, you saw Arya. She stood apart from the others, her face tilted upward as she watched you rise into the night sky. Even from this distance, you could see the grief etched into her young face—grief and awe. She raised a hand as if to wave, though she knew you couldn’t see her clearly.

For a brief moment, guilt clawed at your chest. You had promised to stay. Promised to come back for her. But you couldn’t wait any longer. Damon needed you. Tywin needed to know what was coming.

“Goodbye, Arya,” you whispered into the wind.

Viserion shrieked again, the sound splitting the sky like a blade. Arya flinched but didn’t look away, her grey eyes locked onto you until you disappeared into the horizon, swallowed by the black night.

On the ground, the Brotherhood began to gather what remained of their camp. Thoros still stood amidst the ash, staring into the dying embers with awe. Beric came up beside him, his face shadowed with worry.

“She’s gone,” Beric muttered, glancing toward the sky. “Back to her world.”

Thoros did not look away from the flame. “She rides with fire. It is her path.”

Arya said nothing as she turned from the smoldering field, Needle still clutched in her hand. She felt cold despite the heat of the fires that had raged moments ago. She hadn’t called out to you as you flew away; there was no point.

She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as her fists clenched at her sides. “She’ll come back,” Arya said, more to herself than anyone else. “She promised.”

But as the cold night air settled over the ruined camp, Arya wondered if promises could survive dragons, war, and the dark future that loomed over them all.

Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the war table, his expression as carved and unreadable as ever. Lords, captains, and advisors filled the chamber, gathered for yet another council—reports of the Riverlands unrest, whispers of winter pressing further south, and rumors still murmured from the North. Jaime Lannister stood to the side, arms crossed as he leaned against a column with his usual air of irritation.

“Riverlords refuse to cooperate, my lord,” Kevan reported. “Our garrisons hold for now, but morale is strained. The men—”

The words were cut short by an earth-shaking roar.

Every head in the room turned sharply, stunned into silence. It was not the sound of a man or a beast of this world, but something ancient and terrible—a sound that rattled stone and made hearts clench with primal fear.

“What in Seven Hells was that?” Jaime’s voice broke the silence, though he pushed himself away from the column as though ready to fight.

Another roar followed, louder this time, echoing off the walls of the great castle, sending a cascade of dust from the ceiling beams. Tywin’s eyes narrowed as he rose from his seat. “Out. Everyone. Now.”

Lords and soldiers scrambled in confusion, shoving back chairs and bolting for the door as the roar sounded again. The ground quaked faintly beneath their feet.

Kevan stepped to Tywin’s side, his face pale. “Could it be…?”

“It is,” Tywin said sharply, his voice betraying no fear, only simmering frustration. “Jaime, with me.”

Jaime drew himself up, his face contorted with disbelief, though there was a flicker of awe buried beneath it. “A dragon?”

Tywin shot him a hard look. “Move.”

Together they strode out of the chamber, flanked by guards and advisors who whispered nervously among themselves. The halls of Casterly Rock were alive with commotion—maids screamed and darted for shelter, while soldiers rushed to man the walls, their swords and spears rattling in their hands.

The massive double doors leading to the courtyard were already open, and Tywin stepped out into the light. The moment he did, he came to a halt, and every man around him froze.

Viserion loomed above the castle.

The she-dragon descended from the heavens like a herald of the gods, her scales blazing against the sun. Her wings beat the air with force that sent banners whipping and sent men staggering back. Horses reared in terror, their panicked shrieks mingling with the booming sound of the dragon’s wings.

“Hold your ground!” Tywin barked, his voice sharp and commanding. Soldiers faltered but steadied themselves, their weapons shaking as they watched the beast circle once more.

The dragon shrieked—a sound that struck deep into the hearts of every man present—before she tucked her wings and swooped low. Jaime swore under his breath as the dragon descended, massive claws kicking up dust and stone as she landed in the center of the courtyard with a reverberating thud.

Everything fell silent.

The dust began to settle, and Tywin’s gaze remained fixed on the dragon, whose molten gold eyes surveyed the gathered men like they were little more than ants. Then, from the creature’s back, you appeared—your violet eyes sharp, your silver hair wild from the wind, your cloak stained from weeks of travel. You held your back straight, regal, even as your hands pressed carefully against Viserion’s scales.

The courtyard gaped.

“Seven bloody Hells,” Jaime muttered, taking a step back. “It’s true.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver as you swung yourself down, landing firmly on the ground. You winced briefly as your boots hit the stone, the wounds from your earlier ride still tender, but you said nothing. Viserion shifted behind you, her massive head hovering just above your shoulder as she let out a low, guttural growl.

The men around you shuffled nervously, swords halfway drawn but held steady under Tywin’s iron glare.

“Stay where you are,” Tywin commanded, his voice cutting through the tension. He moved forward slowly, his steps deliberate as his piercing green eyes fixed on you. “Y/N.”

You stood your ground, chin lifted, though the exhaustion in your limbs weighed heavy. “Lord Husband,” you said smoothly, though your voice carried the faint edge of someone who had not rested in days. “I trust I haven’t caused too much of a commotion.”

Tywin stopped a few paces from you, his sharp gaze flickering between you and the dragon behind you. “Where have you been?” His voice was low, deadly calm.

You hesitated, feeling the dozens of eyes on you—guards, knights, lords, servants—all waiting, hanging on your words. “Where I was meant to go,” you said cryptically. “The High Heart.”

Tywin’s expression tightened. “You vanished without word, left your son behind, and now return astride a dragon. What exactly am I to make of this?”

Jaime stepped closer to Tywin’s side, his one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, though he made no move to draw it. “You’ve caused quite the stir, Lady Y/N. What in the world possessed you to—?”

“I did what needed to be done,” you interrupted sharply, your eyes snapping to Jaime before turning back to Tywin. “And I have returned to fulfill what must come next.”

Tywin studied you for a long moment, his gaze as cold and calculating as ever. “The men are frightened. The people will talk.”

“Let them talk,” you said evenly, stepping forward. “They will talk of dragons. And they will listen when we speak.”

There was silence for a beat as Tywin considered you, his expression unreadable. Behind you, Viserion let out another low rumble, her tail curling protectively along the ground.

Finally, Tywin straightened, his face carved into stone. “You will explain everything. Inside.”

You inclined your head. “As you wish.”

Tywin turned sharply, barking orders to his guards. “Clear the courtyard! Stabilize the horses—send word that all is well.”

Jaime lingered for a moment longer, his face a mixture of awe and disbelief as he looked at you. “I always thought the stories were exaggerated. I see now they weren’t.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “The world is far stranger than any story, Ser Jaime.”

With that, you turned and began to follow Tywin back into Casterly Rock. Behind you, Viserion watched silently, her golden eyes fixed on the retreating men as if daring them to make a move. The courtyard began to empty, the air still thick with the smell of smoke and the lingering echoes of chaos.

As you walked past Tywin’s side, his voice dropped low enough for only you to hear. “You have much to answer for.”

“And much to show you,” you replied quietly.

For the first time in years, Tywin Lannister felt the weight of something greater than power itself pressing against his mind—something he could not control. A dragon had returned to Casterly Rock, and the world, he knew, would never be the same.

The great halls of Casterly Rock echoed faintly as Tywin Lannister led you through the winding stone corridors. The heavy doors to the courtyard had slammed shut behind the both of you, sealing away the chaos and whispers. Tywin’s steps were brisk, his presence imposing even in silence. You kept pace, though the weight of exhaustion pulled at your limbs with every step.

Guards and servants lingered against the walls, their eyes flicking nervously toward you before darting away. No doubt the sight of you astride Viserion was now spreading like wildfire through the castle. A Targaryen wife, returned on dragonback—it was the sort of story that men would turn into legend.

Tywin said nothing until you reached the door to the nursery. He pushed it open with a firm hand, the soft glow of candlelight spilling into the corridor. “In here,” he commanded, his voice low but resolute.

You stepped inside the nursery, the air immediately warmer and more comforting than the cavernous halls. The faint sound of a baby’s soft coos greeted your ears, pulling a gentle smile to your lips. Damon, now around seven moons old, sat upright in his crib, propped by cushions to keep him steady. His silver-gold hair caught the candlelight like spun silk as his chubby fingers clumsily gripped a small wooden lion. He turned his head as you entered, his wide violet eyes blinking with innocent curiosity.

Tywin’s demeanor softened, ever so slightly, as he moved to stand beside the crib. He regarded his son—his heir—with quiet pride, though his face remained as composed as ever.

“You should not have been gone so long,” Tywin said finally, breaking the silence. “He missed you.”

You moved to the crib, running your fingers gently over Damon’s soft cheek. He cooed, his small hand reaching for yours, and you smiled faintly. “And I missed him,” you said softly, the ache of separation lingering in your voice. “Every day.”

Tywin regarded you closely, his sharp eyes studying your face as you continued to watch your son. “Where did you go, Y/N? What madness compelled you to leave?”

You didn’t look at him, your voice steady as you replied. “To the High Heart, as I told you. Something… someone called me there.”

“Who?” Tywin’s question cut through the air like a blade.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, your violet eyes unwavering. “A voice from my dreams. From my bloodline, perhaps. I do not yet fully understand it myself.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his skepticism plain to see. “Dreams. Whispers. That is what you risked everything for?”

“I risked everything to protect this,” you said sharply, gesturing toward Damon. “To protect him. To protect you. You may not believe me, Tywin, but you will listen.”

Tywin’s expression darkened, but there was no retort. He simply watched you, as though weighing the truth of your words.

Damon let out another soft sound, his small hand wrapping around your finger as he grinned toothlessly, oblivious to the tension in the room. For a moment, the heaviness between you and Tywin eased, replaced by the quiet hum of the nursery and the warmth of your son’s presence.

“He looks stronger,” you murmured, brushing Damon’s silver-gold hair back gently. “You’ve cared for him well.”

Tywin’s gaze softened, though his voice remained steady. “He is my son. My heir. I would not allow harm to come to him.”

You looked up at Tywin, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across his sharp features. “Then trust me when I say that harm is coming. You don’t have to believe my words, but the signs are already here. The winds from the North grow colder. The Wall grows restless. The world will burn or freeze, Tywin. I have seen it.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his frustration barely concealed. “I cannot build armies on whispers and shadows, Y/N.”

“Then what will you do when shadows turn into an army of the dead?” you challenged, your voice quiet but firm. “What will you do when the Wall is not enough? When this castle—your precious Rock—is nothing more than rubble beneath snow and ice?”

Tywin stared at you, his jaw set, his silence betraying the faintest crack in his certainty. He was not a man given to imagination, to prophecies or legends—but you could see the flicker of doubt in his gaze.

Before he could answer, his eyes darted lower, a flicker of something sharper—concern or curiosity—crossing his face. “What is this?”

You frowned, following his gaze as he reached toward your side, where the hem of your gown hung uneven. Tywin gently caught your wrist and turned your arm to examine the faint red lines beneath the fabric, some scabbed, others only just beginning to heal.

“They’re nothing,” you said quickly, trying to pull your arm free, but his grip tightened, careful but unyielding.

“Nothing?” Tywin’s tone turned cold, his pale green eyes snapping to yours. “These are not ‘nothing.’ How did this happen?”

You hesitated, knowing Tywin would not relent until you answered. “The scales,” you admitted quietly, looking away. “Viserion’s scales cut me when I rode her. It’s my fault for not being prepared.”

Tywin exhaled through his nose, the faintest trace of irritation in his expression. “And you didn’t think to tend to this?”

“It is nothing,” you repeated stubbornly, pulling your arm back as you met his gaze once more. “I’ve had worse.”

“Worse or not, it is reckless,” Tywin said curtly, his eyes narrowing. “You do not risk yourself like this—not when your son needs you.”

“I did what I had to,” you replied softly, but firmly. “And I will do it again if it means keeping him safe.”

Tywin said nothing, but his gaze lingered on you for a long moment. It was not anger you saw in his eyes, nor disappointment, but something else—something harder to name. It was as though he were seeing you anew, taking the measure of the woman before him, one who rode dragons and spoke of nightmares made real.

Finally, he straightened, his composure settling back into place. “The maester will see to those wounds.”

You almost laughed. “I’ll manage.”

“You will see him,” Tywin repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned back to the crib, brushing his fingertips over Damon’s small blanket with unexpected gentleness. “For his sake.”

You sighed, relenting. “Very well.”

There was silence for a moment, the flicker of the candlelight throwing your shadows across the nursery walls. Tywin’s presence, as always, filled the room—but this time it was less oppressive, softer, as though something unspoken lingered between you both.

“Rest,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “There will be much to discuss tomorrow.”

And with that, Tywin Lannister turned and left the room, his steps fading down the corridor. You sat down carefully beside Damon’s crib, exhaling deeply as the weight of your journey and the future yet to come pressed against your shoulders.

You ran your fingers gently over Damon’s tiny hand as he sat, his wide eyes now starting to flutter closed, exhaustion overtaking him. “For you, my son. Always for you,” you whispered softly.

You stood by the window, watching the ocean waves crash against the cliffs far below Casterly Rock. The air was crisp and salty, carrying a faint chill that clung to your skin. Damon cooed softly in his crib behind you, watched carefully by the ever-diligent nursemaid, who hummed a lullaby under her breath.

You were half lost in thought when a knock came at the door.

“Enter,” you called, turning away from the window.

The door opened, and Jaime Lannister stepped inside, his gilded armor glinting faintly in the light. His single hand, as always, rested against the pommel of his sword, but his posture was far from threatening. There was something unusual in his expression—hesitation, perhaps, or curiosity—as he regarded you with his piercing green eyes.

“Ser Jaime,” you greeted, arching a brow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jaime tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Pleasure? I doubt my presence here is that pleasant.”

“True,” you replied smoothly, turning fully to face him. “We’ve never truly spoken, despite… circumstances.”

Jaime glanced at the nursemaid and nodded toward the door. “Leave us.”

The woman looked to you for confirmation. You nodded, and she gathered her things, retreating with a bow. When the door clicked shut behind her, Jaime’s smile faltered. He looked uncertain now, his gaze flickering briefly to Damon in his crib before settling back on you.

“I suppose that’s true,” Jaime said finally, crossing his arms. “It’s strange, isn’t it? You’ve been in this family for long now, and yet we’re little more than strangers.”

“Perhaps we preferred it that way,” you remarked, folding your hands before you. “What is it you wanted to say, Ser Jaime?”

Jaime seemed to weigh his words carefully, a rare sight for him. He paced a few steps, looking down at the ornate rug beneath his feet before stopping abruptly. “I came to speak of… the past.”

You felt the tension in your shoulders stiffen. “Be specific.”

“The day I killed your father.”

The words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread. Your breath stilled, but your face remained composed, years of royal upbringing keeping your emotions hidden. “I do not wish to speak of that day.”

“You think I do?” Jaime retorted, his voice edged with bitterness. “That day—what happened—will follow me to my grave. Kingslayer, Oathbreaker—call me what you will. But I need you to understand something.”

“I understand everything already. You want forgiveness of a daughter, an absolution for your soul,” you replied, your voice steady but quiet. “I can't give you that and I don’t want to remember the man you killed. I want to remember the man who once cared for me as a little girl.”

Jaime blinked, caught off guard. “Your father?”

“Yes,” you said softly, your gaze distant. “Before the madness. Before the fire. I want to remember the man who lifted me onto his knee and promised I would always be safe. The man who placed a crown of flowers on my head and called me his little princess. That is the memory I choose to keep.”

Jaime’s expression shifted, his usual wit and sarcasm subdued. “You were lucky to know him that way,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “By the end, there was no man left in him.”

You looked away, your jaw tightening. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

There was silence for a long moment. Jaime let out a slow breath, and when you finally turned back to face him, you saw something resembling regret in his eyes. Perhaps not for what he did, but for the weight it left on you.

“You’re here because of Cersei,” you said, breaking the quiet. “That’s why you came. She sent you to see if the rumors were true.”

Jaime’s lips twitched into something between a smirk and a grimace. “She’s worried about a dragon, yes. But she’s even more worried about you.”

“And what will you tell her?” you asked, your voice carrying an edge of challenge.

Jaime shrugged one shoulder, though the movement was deliberate. “The truth. You’ve returned. You brought a dragon with you. I’m sure she’ll make of it what she will.”

“Do not underestimate her,” you said sharply. “She sees enemies everywhere, even in those closest to her. I’ve no doubt she will see me as no different.”

Jaime’s smirk faded completely. “Cersei isn’t always wrong about enemies.”

You tilted your head slightly, your violet eyes narrowing. “And what am I, Ser Jaime? A threat? A sister? A rival? Or perhaps something else entirely?”

Jaime hesitated, then let out a dry chuckle. “You’re Tywin’s wife. And now, the mother of his heir. That is more dangerous to Cersei than anything else in this world.”

You didn’t reply, but your gaze didn’t waver either. There was truth in Jaime’s words—a truth you already knew. Cersei’s resentment toward you ran deeper than mere rivalry; it was a matter of power, of legacy, of bloodlines that neither of you could control.

Jaime turned slightly toward Damon’s crib, watching the infant as he grasped at his small blanket. “He’s… a handsome boy. Strong.”

“He will need to be,” you replied softly. “The world he will inherit will be cruel.”

Jaime turned back to you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Cersei believes this child threatens her. You threaten her.”

“And do you?” you asked, searching his face. “Do you see me as a threat too?”

Jaime was quiet for a moment, then shook his head. “No. I see you as someone who survived.”

You met his gaze, understanding more in that moment than you had in all the months of knowing him. Jaime Lannister was a man shaped by the world he fought in, much like you—a survivor of choices, fate, and fire.

“Tell your sister whatever you wish,” you said finally, turning back to Damon’s crib. “But remember this, Jaime: no matter what Cersei fears, I will protect my son.”

Jaime nodded faintly, as though he expected no less. “I’ll leave you to it then. I imagine we’ll see each other again soon.”

He turned on his heel and strode toward the door, pausing only for a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he added quietly, “the world would have been better if your father had stayed the man you remembered.”

You didn’t respond, but as the door closed behind him, you sat beside Damon’s crib, brushing a gentle hand over his silver-gold hair. You whispered softly, “The world would have been better still if none of this had come to pass.”

Tywin Lannister sat in his private solar at Casterly Rock, his gaze fixed on the crackling hearth before him as he waited. The quiet within the chamber was unusual, tense. He’d dismissed the usual guards and servants, wanting no distractions as he considered the days that had unfolded since your return. There was too much chaos, too many uncertainties—dragons, rumors, and now your wounds.

The sound of the door creaking open broke his thoughts, and Maester Aldren, an older man with a gaunt face and pale blue eyes, entered the room. He carried a leather-bound satchel and walked with a slightly uneven gait, his chain of office clinking softly against his robes.

“You summoned me, my lord?” Aldren said with a slight bow, his tone hushed with a nervous undercurrent.

Tywin turned his sharp gaze to him and gestured to the seat across from his desk. “Sit. Tell me what you have found regarding my wife.”

Maester Aldren settled himself with care, his satchel resting across his lap. “I examined Lady Y/N as you requested, my lord. The wounds she bears are… peculiar.”

Tywin’s brows narrowed. “How so?”

“They are not the wounds of war,” Aldren replied carefully. “Shallow cuts, some scabbed and others still raw, caused by the dragon’s scales, I suspect. What is concerning, however, is that they are not healing as quickly as one might expect. The dragon’s hide is sharper than any blade, it seems, and its presence may carry an unnatural effect.”

“Unnatural,” Tywin repeated sharply, the word tasting foul on his tongue. “Is it poison?”

“No,” Aldren said quickly, shaking his head. “The flesh is clean of any venom or festering. But I believe prolonged exposure to the creature—riding it as she has done—takes its toll. The cuts are many, and she requires rest. Your lady wife is resilient, my lord, but even she has limits.”

Tywin leaned back in his chair, his hands folding before him on the desk as he considered this. The words lingered in the air, and a long silence followed as Aldren waited for Tywin’s response.

Finally, Tywin spoke. “She will not stop. She has made it clear. If she continues to ride, she will need a saddle designed to protect her.”

Aldren blinked, visibly startled. “A saddle… for a dragon?”

“Yes,” Tywin said curtly, his voice brooking no argument. “And not some crude contraption patched together by peasants. A proper saddle. A Targaryen woman who rides a dragon will not be seen injured and bleeding like some common fool.”

Aldren hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “My lord, the knowledge you seek is scarce. What little we know of dragons—of their saddles, their riders—comes from the days of House Targaryen. The lore, the records… they were lost. Burned.”

Tywin’s gaze sharpened, his voice dropping dangerously low. “What do you mean, burned?”

“After Robert’s Rebellion,” Aldren explained cautiously, “King Robert ordered all written works concerning dragons destroyed in King’s Landing. The Citadel still holds fragments of knowledge, my lord, but much has been lost to time.”

Tywin exhaled sharply, his displeasure evident in the slight tightening of his jaw. “Foolish. Destroying knowledge does not destroy the truth. Send word to the Citadel. Whatever remains, I want it sent here immediately.”

“I will write to the Archmaesters at once, my lord,” Aldren said, bowing his head. “Though I must warn you, the Citadel has little love for dragons or the Targaryens. They may be reluctant to part with such knowledge.”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “The Citadel serves the realm, and I serve the realm. If they require convincing, I will see to it personally.”

“Yes, my lord,” Aldren replied quickly, bowing his head again to avoid Tywin’s piercing gaze. “And Lady Y/N?”

“She is to rest,” Tywin commanded firmly. “Do whatever is needed to see her well. But ensure she understands that this must not happen again. If she rides, she does so prepared.”

Aldren stood slowly, clutching his satchel. “Of course, my lord. I will prepare the necessary remedies and make inquiries at the Citadel.”

Tywin waved him away. “Go.”

Aldren bowed deeply and exited the room, the door shutting softly behind him. For a moment, Tywin sat still, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire. His fingers tapped against the desk in thought.

A saddle for a dragon… the very idea gnawed at him. He loathed how quickly the world had turned. He had spent decades carving order out of chaos, reshaping the realm to his will. Yet here he was, a dragon sleeping beneath his house, a dragon-rider wife whose blood carried the fire of old Valyria.

And somewhere deep within him, a quiet voice whispered that this fire could not be tamed.

He rose slowly, walking to the window and looking out across the horizon. The sun sat low, its light spilling over the cliffs like molten gold. Tywin’s face remained hard, his thoughts locked away.

“Knowledge is power,” he muttered to himself. “And I will have it.”

The roar of the distant sea rose up to meet him, but in his mind, he heard the cry of a dragon—ancient and unstoppable, and a herald of something he could not yet name.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #house of the dragon #hotd #house targaryen #house lannister #got #got/asoiaf #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got tywin #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin x you #tywin x y/n #legacy

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dukestags · 21 days ago

Note

Hi, I hope I'm not bothering you. May I request a Dick Grayson x FtM reader who has a feminine mall goth style? (I'm a transgender boy, but I like "feminine" things and have long hair though sometimes it's not easy because of dysphoria. I hope this request doesn't make you uncomfortable. Thank you in advance for reading 🫶)

Pretty dark prince

dick grayson x ftm reader

The neon lights of the mall reflected off your black vinyl boots as you leaned against a pillar outside the record store. Your nails were painted black, chipped at the edges. Your mesh sleeves peeked out from under a faded HIM hoodie, and silver chains clinked as you shifted your weight.

You didn't quite blend in—more like you made the world around you adapt. People stared sometimes, unsure if they were confused, intrigued, or both. You didn’t care. Not anymore.

You tucked a strand of your long, slightly curled hair behind your ear. It was the kind of long that made people say, “You’d be prettier if you smiled”—the kind you owned with pride now. It was yours, the way you wanted it. Masculine, but wild. Like a storm kept in place with a few stubborn braids and rings threaded through.

Then he walked up.

“Hey,” Dick said, tone low and voice dipped in that warm rasp. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, expression soft. “Sorry I’m late. Got caught up on patrol.”

You glanced over at him. “I figured. You’re lucky I found a Cure CD I didn’t own. Otherwise, you’d be on thin ice.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Tragic. I was fully prepared to grovel.”

You smirked, letting him take your hand—rings and all. He looked at you like he always did: like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. Not in the “mystery” way people tried to dissect you, but in the “I want to learn every detail because I want to” way.

“You look…” he paused, then gave a crooked smile, “...really good. Like if Robert Smith and a sword-wielding Greek god had a baby.”

You barked out a laugh, but your cheeks warmed.

“I don’t get a lot of people saying I look masculine and goth. Usually it’s either ‘cool chick’ or ‘what the hell are you supposed to be?’”

Dick’s smile dimmed just enough to show understanding. “Then they’re idiots. You don’t need to look like anyone else’s idea of a man. You’re you—and that’s more badass than anything else.”

Your throat tightened a little. Not because you needed validation from anyone, but because you never expected it to come from someone like Dick. From someone who looked at you like your eyeliner was war paint, not weakness. Like your long hair didn’t cancel out your identity but made it stronger—more you.

He reached up and gently touched the end of one of your braids. “I like this. It’s kind of… warrior poet meets underworld prince.”

You blinked. “You really thought that one out, huh?”

“I have to keep up. You’re art. I’m just lucky you let me in.”

You leaned into him a little. “You’re not so bad for a guy who wears three layers of black to fight crime.”

He pulled you into a hug, warm and solid. “Let ‘em stare,” he whispered near your ear. “You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

You where going to a concert the next day and Dick was so kind to drive you.

The two of you sat on the back of Dick’s motorcycle, parked just far enough from the concert venue to avoid the crowd but close enough to feel the bass thrumming through the pavement.

You adjusted your black faux-leather coat, the chains on your pants catching the streetlight. A concert was a sacred thing to you—live music, eyeliner sweated down your face, surrounded by strangers who all understood the same language: noise, lyrics, defiance.

Dick watched you with that little smirk again—the kind that meant he was going to say something that made your chest do annoying things.

“Look at you,” he murmured, brushing a gloved thumb under your eye to smudge your eyeliner just right. “My little prince of darkness.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched. “Prince?”

“Yeah,” he said, letting his hand drop to your thigh. “Because ‘king’ feels too cold. You’re something else—regal in your own way, but still... wild.”

You stared at him for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

You did. Way more than you ever meant to.

“You’re gonna miss me while I’m gone,” you said, standing and brushing off your coat. “What are you gonna do without your gothic arm candy for three whole hours?”

Dick stood with you, fingers tugging your hand back into his. “Probably mope. Or go punch someone and tell them they’re not as cool as my boyfriend.”

You bit your lip to hide a grin. “Damn right.”

Before you could lose the moment, you reached up, fingers curling into his jacket collar, and kissed him. Not a peck—an intentional, slow press of lips that lingered with meaning. His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing the curve of your cheek like he was memorizing the shape of you.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “That’s for luck.”

Dick blinked slowly, visibly dazed. “I might need to go to the concert with you after that.”

You snorted and backed away, walking toward the venue with swagger in your step, long hair swaying behind you like a black banner.

Before disappearing into the noise and flashing lights, you looked over your shoulder and called out:

“Try not to fall in love with me while I’m gone, Nightwing.”

Dick crossed his arms, smiling to himself as he watched you go.

“Too late, Prince.”

#mlm #ftm reader #dcu #dcu comics #dcu universe #dick grayson x ftm reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #nightwing x ftm reader #teen titans

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jjungkookislife · 1 month ago

Text

Slay

pairing: prince!taehyung x princess!reader

genre: established relationship, royal au

summary: Taehyung will stop at nothing to get you back.

wc: 671

warnings: talking horse, mention of kidnapping, implied side character death, broken nose by punch, swords/weapons, threats, manhandling and violence (towards reader and side character), blood mention

date: May 9, 2025

“This is a bad idea,” Taehyung’s horse, Onyx, told him as they arrived at the chapel.

“Come on, Onyx, I slayed a two-headed dragon to get here. Are you giving up just when we get here?” Taehyung asked his four-legged best friend.

“You go get her,” Onyx huffs. “I’ll wait right here.”

“Fine,” Taehyung scoffs. “But don’t go running off like last time.”

“The dragon breathed fire from one head and ice from the other!” Onyx protests. “It singed my tail!”

“Minor details,” Taehyung waves off the horse, who neighs and shoves Taehyung in the direction of the chapel doors with its snout.

“Geez, I get it. I get it,” Taehyung mumbles as he straightens his jacket. The wind blows his black hair into his eyes as he stares at the chapel. You were only a few feet away from him. He had come a long way to rescue you, but now the greatest battle lay ahead of him as he ran up the steps without a chance to second-guess himself further.

The white chapel doors slam open as he pulls them apart. Everyone turns to face him, mouths agape as he stands at the entrance, but he pays them no mind, his gaze is locked on yours as you stand at the end of the white wedding runner in a white gown that doesn’t complement you at all. It must have been picked out by the groom, Derek, the sleaze who had you kidnapped from your kingdom, days before you were to be wed to Taehyung.

The news had hit him hard, as your mother collapsed in a heap once she informed him of your situation. He hadn’t wasted any more time, calling his noble steed, Onyx, and setting off into the woods in search of Derek and his kingdom.

“Tae!” The nickname escapes your lips as you take a step toward him, but Derek grabs your arm roughly, holding you in place.

“Get on with it,” Derek commands the priest, who is now sweating as he looks at Taehyung and then Derek. A knight comes to Derek’s side, his blade at the priest’s neck.

“I won’t marry you!” You proclaim as you pull your arm, but Derek holds it tighter. You’ve had enough of his manhandling, of his shit treatment toward you. You thought yourself hopeless, but with Taehyung here, you felt like anything was possible.

You inhale sharply, glaring at Derek as you pull back your free hand and punch him in the nose. You hear a crunch, and Derek goes down, a pool of blood flowing from his nose.

Cautiosuly, you make a run for Taehyung as the knight focuses on the both of you instead of the priest.

“Release her,” The knight demands, but Taehyung slides you behind him. You rip the veil off, reaching for the dagger in Taehyung’s boot to help defend yourself.

“Get her!” Derek shouts, but the knight is catapulted out of the chapel with a sickening crack as Onyx neighs, two front legs still in the air.

“Onyx!” You grin in glee.

Derek shuffles backward, one hand on his broken nose, the other reaching for his sword. Onyx stiffens as they lock eyes, and Derek releases his blade, giving up.

Moments later, Derek is tied up while you wait for Taehyung on Onyx.

Taehyung mounts the horse, and your arms wind around his waist, your head resting on his broad shoulders.

“You came for me,” you whisper into his back as his fingers lace with yours. He meets your gaze over his right shoulder, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes.

“I’ll always come for you. I love you more than anything.”

You take a moment from the chaos to press your lips against his. Taehyung kisses you back slowly, wishing he could do more, but that will have to wait until later. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you to your kingdom, and then your wedding to Taehyung, the love of your life, your hero, your only.

#taehyung drabble #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #prince!taehyung x princess!reader #taehyung fluff #mdni and support banner by cafekitsune

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skippingstonez · 5 months ago

Note

bunny legend x hare reader

It's funny to me to imagine Legend all small and adorable and then there's reader being a hare

*starts writing, expecting it to be a short fluffy little scene*

Well shit, I guess it's 3 chapters now.

Bunny Bonding

(Legend x hare!Reader) Chapter 1 / Next Warnings: None for this chapter <3 No promises for further ones

Legend sliced at the chu chu to his right. Dodging the ice it had shot towards him. The tempered sword cut straight through. Eliciting only a soft cry as Legend, already wiping off the blade, watched it dissolve into a pile of goo that slowly seeped into the ground. He looked over to where Twilight was sheathing his own sword.

“I hate those jiggly ones. Don’t feel natural.” He complained, wiping off some frost from his shoulder.

“Pretty sure most monsters aren’t exactly ‘natural’ Rancher.” Legend retorted.

“Yeah, but those ones 'specially just don't make sense to me.”

“You don't make sense to me, yet here we are” Legend snarked, beginning to walk in the direction of what would hopefully be one of the other groups. They had split up in an attempt to find some sort of village or town with no luck. So far, the only thing the two of them had found was a couple of chu-chus.

“Think the others found an’thin?”

Legend shrugged. “Rulies with the Old Man so they probably found something at least somewhat useful. Wild probably dragged (Y/N) into some random cave.”

“30 rupees says she didn't let him go in.”

Legend scoffed, “Are you kidding? You might as well hand those over now goat boy.” You might have been paired off with their cook to keep him out of trouble but Legend knew better. He had seen the way you scurried about the last dungeon like Wind hyped up on sugar. You might be one of the more ‘responsible’ ones in the group but you could match any of them in your need to explore.

He could already picture your adorable stupid smile as you and Wild yapped endlessly about what you found. Dirt splattered on your face that blended in with the small freckles of your cheeks. Lose hairs falling around your face that-

“Ordonia would ya stop daydreaming about them long enough to help me find the others.” Twilight teased, shoving his shoulder into Legend's.

Legend scowled, trying to hide the rush of heat to his face “I don't day dream.”

“And Sky's afraid of heights.” He deadpanned, crossing his arms. “Are you ever gonna put the rest of us outta our misery and just admit yer feelings?”

“Fine. I admit that I hate all of you.”

Twilight rolled his eyes but didn't bother to respond as they continued walking to the designated meet-up point. No one else had gotten back yet, giving them an opportunity to set a few things up and start gathering wood. Not long after, voices approached that Legend recognized as Four, meaning he and the Captain were back.

Legend had to bite his tongue to keep from rolling over and laughing. The two of them were covered head to toe in mud, sticks tangled in their hair and the Captain's scarf drenched in Nayru knows what else. Even Twilight was holding back his snickers as they walked up, Four plopping onto the ground while Wars practically yanked off his outer tunic.

“*Whistle* Damn you two. What happened-”

“Dont. Ask.” Both of them spat out.

Twilight snorted, “Dont worry, I think I heard a river over-”

“Rancher!! Rancher we’ve got a problem!!” Wild’s voice reached them just as the Champion burst through the trees behind them. He practically ran straight into Twilight, grabbing onto him as he panted heavily. Sweat dripped down his face and drenched the back of his tunic. His hair was a tangled mess and he had a few new scrapes on his hands.

“Need…we… then…small…ran off..” Wild gasped, gesturing with his hands as though that helped make sense of the words spewing from his mouth.

Twilight gripped his shoulders, coaching him to take slow deep breaths. Legend kept looking in the direction he had come from, waiting for you to jump out in a similar manner as their cook. If something fluttered in his stomach he promptly ignored it. Chalking it up to not eating for a few hours. He definitely did not feel a little disappointed when nothing came.

Wait. Why was no one else coming?

“Champ where is (Y/N)? Wasn’t she with you?” Four beat him to the question already poised on his tongue.

Wild took a deep inhale. Straightening his spine as he slowly exhaled.

“Gone.”

Silence.

When it was clear that Wild wasn’t going to offer any additional context, Legend clenched his hands in order to not strangle him.

“What do you mean, she's gone!?” Legend asked.

Wars stepped forward so he was right in front of Wild who was curiously eyeing everything currently coating the taller man.

“Champion?” War’s voice was strained, trying to remain calm and collected. “Please tell me this isn’t another ‘Hyrule’s trapped in a cave’ situation.”

“Oh my gosh it's not our fault that caves are so unstable these days!” Wild replied so casually that had Legend grinding his teeth.

“Champ! Where the hell is (Y/N)?” He snapped. He could feel his chest tightening. His mind already racing with worst case scenarios.

“I don't know! I told you she ran off!”

“Ran off? Okay wait start from the beginning, what happened?” Twilight asked.

“Okay, so we found this cool cave- Don't give me that look Captain, this time is different.” Wild started. War’s simply crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Wild to continue. “At some point there was this odd wizzrobe? But like…not a wizzrobe, at least not one from my era. Anyway, it snuck up on us and she got hit.”

Legend felt his stomach drop.

“She just…” Wild made a shrinking motion with his hands. “Next thing I know she's this blupee looking thing!”

“Uhh, what's a blupee?” Four asked. trying, and failing, to clean off the front of his tunic.

“Ya know, a blupee! This big? Blue? Leaf ear things?”

Everyone simply shook their heads, looking to Wild like he was still spewing utter nonsense. Which to be fair, to the others, he currently was.

“Seriously? You guys don't know what a blupee is?”

“Wild! Focus!”

“Right, right! Well I still had to fight the thing and one of my arrows musta got too close cause she..it? Ran off. I’ve been looking for over an hour and I can't find her! That's why I tried to find you guys!”

Twilight shot a glance over to Legend, nodding in an understanding that it must have been some sort of transformation major. Which only meant that they needed to find her, and do it soon.

Wars spoke up first, hand on his chin like he always does when trying to form a quick plan.

“Okay…okay so you're telling us that (Y/N) is now some small creature,” Wild nodded.

“That ran off over an hour ago,” another nod

“and we now have no idea where she is.” A final nod. Legend was honestly surprised that the vein in his forehead didn't burst.

Twilight immediately grabbed for his necklace. “Alright, no one panic. Wild, Ledge and I will come help track her down. Cap, Smithy, you two go find Sky.” He shifted into Wolfie, eagerly already trying to catch any scent of their lost companion.

“Sky? Why Sky?”

“If whatever magic she got hit with made her transform into something then we’re gonna need the Master Sword. Now go!” Legend ordered, offering no further explanation.

No one questioned him as he ran off in the direction Wild came from. His heart pounding in his ears with every step.

____

Legend’s heart practically stopped.

The scent Wolfie had picked up had led them just south of the cave Wild mentioned. Just ahead of them was a rabbit with fur as white as Sky’s sailcloth. Its long ears twitched as its head shot up towards the three of them.

“No way” Twilight mumbled, elbowing Legend lightly in the ribs. “Looks like you just found yourself a partner Vet.”

Legend couldn't even muster up a response. The only thing he could do for a moment was stare at you. You were a rabbit. Well, technically a hare if he had to guess but the point still stood. You. You of all people were currently a small, white rabbit that was staring right at him curiously. Your ears slowly lowering till they lay flat against your head.

Hylia this was doing things to him he was never going to let himself admit.

His body moved on its own. Stepping closer to you, carefully watching as you simply cocked your head at his approach.

Fuck that was adorable.

Does he do that? Is this why Sky and Twilight had started gushing over his own form? If so it was enough to make him consider apologizing for being so sharp towards them. Not enough to ever actually do so but he'd at least consider it.

You took a small hop towards him and he thought his heart had started melting. The only thing going through his brain was the unexplainable need to get closer to you.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, kneeling down to let you approach. You stretched out your neck, nose twitching at him though you didn't come any closer.

Legend could sense the rush of magic from behind him as Twilight reached back for his necklace before Legend could stop him.

“Rancher wait!”

The moment he turned into Wolfie you ran. Wolfie chased after you with Wild close behind him, shouting after you.

“Guys stop!” He kicked his pegasus boots, sending a burst of magic into them as he ran. His heart beat rapidly against his chest, egging him to reach you. Catching up to Wolfie and Wild wasn't difficult, the problem would be in getting Wolfie to stop. Just ahead he could see the small white blur, zig-zagging around as you ran. You were fast and he knew from experience that catching something this small would require more than just speed.

Legend threw a hand into his bag, yanking out his ice rod. He pushed himself forward so he was a few paces ahead of you. He dug his heels into the ground, throwing himself sideways into a roll. Your small body slammed into his stomach, his arm coming up to trap you against him. His other hand threw up the ice rod, freezing the ground separating him and Wolfie into a solid patch of ice.

Wild hit the ice with a yelp, crashing right into Wolfie as they skidded across the now frozen grass. Wild groaned from underneath Wolfie as they slid to a stop. Wolfie lifted his head just enough to growl towards Legend.

Legend tightened his grip as you squirmed against him, doubling your efforts at the deep growl. Butting your head into his sternum, you nipped at his finger in a final attempt to get him to loosen his grip. He let go out of surprise, allowing you just enough space to squirm out of his hold, dashing off as you hit the ground. Legend sighed before turning on the two struggling to pick themselves up.

“Would the two of you idiots use your brains!” Legend yelled. “Of course she ran! She thinks she's being chased by 2 men with weapons and a damn wolf!”

“But it's just us! And she loves Wolfie!”

Legend pinched between his eyes, “Just…ugh just trust me on this. She's thinking like a rabbit, not a Hylian. All she probably saw were 3 big things that probably want to eat her.”

“How would you know? Twi can turn into a wolf and he still recognizes us, why not her?”

Legend clenched his jaw, repeatedly telling himself that strangling the man in front of him wasn’t worth sitting through another one of Time’s lectures on ‘getting along’.

“Then why the hell would she be running away from us? Honestly, even if she does recognize us, a rabbit's instinct is to hide or run. Instincts that are likely much stronger than actual logic given her current state. So let's NOT give her another reason to run!”

Wild shut his mouth, not meeting Legend’s eyes as he walked over, finally helping them up as Twilight shifted back to normal.

“Come on, she went this way.” They walked slowly this time. Keeping an eye out for your white fur which Legend spotted a few feet away. Your head immediately snapping towards them.

“Stay here a sec.” Legend whispered. He took a few steps closer, careful to notice any twitch of your small body. He slowly knelt down, reaching out a hand towards you like he had before in hopes of the same reaction. You hopped away from him, scurrying underneath the bush behind you. Legend bit his lip with a heavy sigh before turning back to the others, holding out his hand.

“Necklace”

“His wolf shard? Why?”

“Ledge you sure?”

Legend nodded his head. “Champ if you breathe a word of this to ANY of them I will personally see that you are locked in a cave where no one will find you.” He stared him down as he gripped onto the string holding the shard. With a deep sigh he touched it, letting the magic wash over him. He didn't resist as a familiar pain shot through his body. He shut his eyes, taking steady breaths through the worst of it. Once dulled to a mild ache, he stretched out his limbs, readjusting to the now much shorter, furry pink legs supporting him. He spared a quick glance to see a dumbstruck Wild and Twilight giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

The small sound of leaves rustling drew his attention back in front of him. A small nose poking out from the much larger bush. Legend hopped forward, calling out softly.

‘(Y/n)?’

‘Legend? Ledge is that you?’ Your voice called out to him, trembling slightly.

He took another hop forward, poking his head under the leaves. ‘Yeah, it's just me. Are you alright?’

You stared at him for a moment. ‘You're…oh my goddess you're…and I'm..? Are you okay?? Did that thing hit you too?’

Legend scoffed. You were sporadically turned into a rabbit, running around alone for the past 2, maybe 3 hours and your first thought was if he was okay? ‘I'm fine. This is an unfortunate side effect of my first adventure. But let's not focus on that. What happened? Are you okay?’

She shuffled backwards, allowing him to fully crawl into the little alcove. ‘I-I don't know! A monster snuck up on us and then...oh my gosh Wild! I just left him and you guys had to… I'm s-sorry, I shouldn’t have run, I just..’ Your voice quivered, heavy with disbelief and fear as you rambled on.

Legend’s mind flooded with old memories of being pulled into the Dark World for the first time. The overwhelming fear that had settled deep into his soul, the excruciating pain and embarrassment of it all at the first sight of the soft pink fur that covered his body. It had all been so long ago. Yet sitting here, seeing someone he loved cared for, going through what he did only seemed to bring it all back in a new twisted view.

‘Hey, hey it's okay, I get it.’ he moved closer, nuzzling his way between your front two legs that were taller than him so that he was pressed against your chest. His head resting just beneath your chin. ‘It's gonna be fine.’

He felt your body flop on top of his as he tried to reassure you that it would be alright. His heart beating rapidly in his chest as your face buried itself on top of his. By the three was he always so warm in this form? He never recalled feeling this hot before. It must just be the stress of this whole thing. It definitely wasn’t because he took the first chance he got to snuggle up to you like you were longtime sweethearts or anything. Not to mention the fact that you had reciprocated! Maybe the Rancher did have a point? His heart swelled at the thought of being like this together, as Hylians of course. And preferably not under a bush though Legend wasn’t gonna be picky about it.

‘Vet?’ You asked softly into the top of his head. ‘Is this why your hair turned pink that one time?”

Welp. That was a nice feeling while it lasted.

Legend groaned, pushing himself away. ‘We are NOT talking about that.’ He groaned, backing away. ‘Now come on, I'm pretty sure the rancher and cook are gonna lose their shit if we don't come out soon.’

Together, the two of you came out to find Wild and Twilight sitting nervously a few feet away. Wild perked up immediately, restraining himself from lunging at you.

“You guys okay?? Wait Rancher can they understand us? Wolfie can understand us, right? So they should be able to?”

“Yes Wild we can understand you.” Legend hopped closer, making sure you were beside him.

“...... You talk!? What the hell? Why can't you talk!?” He said, slapping Twilight's arm.

“Ow hey it ain't up to me!”

“Would you two quit it? We have bigger issues right now!” Legend scolded, though he could hear you chuckling bedside him.

“Can (Y/N) talk too?”

Legend looked to you, encouraging you to try. Based on the disappointed looks, Legend seemed to be the only one that could understand you.

“She says she ran cause your face scared her off.” You bumped your head harshly into his.

“Oh shut up Vet.” Wild snarked back before turning to you. “Seriously though, are you okay? You nearly scared me back to death when you ran off and I couldn't find you!”

You hopped over to him, putting your head on his leg. His hands came down, running softly over your back and Legend had to resist the urge to bite him. When he tried to pick you up though you scurried back over to Legend who definitely wasn’t smiling because of it.

“So now what?”

“Now we go meet up with Sky.” Twilight explained. “The Master Sword should purge whatever magic is in their systems and get 'em back to normal.”

Twilight and Wild got to their feet, dusting the dirt off their pants.

“It's a pretty far walk. You guys want a lift?” Twilight asked, holding his arms out expectantly.

#I giggled SO hard writing this all #I also now have so many interesting bunny facts #lu legend #bunny legend #legend x reader #legend is agonizingly in denial #link x reader

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