#that one time we played storm king's thunder

[crimxonwrites]

Blood-painted kisses | Aemond Targaryen x female!OC | Chapter 6 ❝A small victory❞

☽➛ Summary: Nothing satietes Maehrys Velaryon's hunger as well as revenge. Growing up at the Red Keep as the bastard of Rhaenyra Targaryen did not come trouble-free. Her childhood consisted of bitter words and repulsive looks from nearly everybody in the castle. As she grew older, Maehrys grew meaner. Once the Velaryons return to King's Landing to defend Luke's claim as Lord of Driftmark, Maehrys decides that it is time for the people who hurt her in the past to pay.

☽➛ Warnings: swearing, bullying, mentions of blood, overall 18+!!!!

☽➛ Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x female!OC ( enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers again?? romance is a subplot)

Masterlist

Chapter 7

The fire's cracking echoes in my head as I watch my mother break down. I have seen my mother cry before; she has suffered enough heartache. But this time is different. This time, I feel she shares my anger. My heart races, and tears start falling down my hot cheeks. Luke is dead. My innocent, dearest little brother is dead at the hands of my one-eyed uncle. I was a fool to think he would ever change, even now, after he has... reduced his cruelties toward me.

A crushing weight settles on my chest, squeezing the breath out of me. The pain is unbearable, a deep, gnawing ache that refuses to relent. Luke, my sweet Luke, with his bright eyes and infectious laughter, is gone. The memories flood my mind: his mischievous grin when he played pranks, the way he would cling to me when he was scared, his boundless energy and curiosity. How can the world continue to turn without him in it?

My uncle's face flashes in my mind, his single eye cold and unfeeling. The rage burns through my grief, a scorching fire that threatens to consume me. He took Luke from me, from us, and for that, I will never forgive him. But even my fury cannot mask the overwhelming sense of loss. Luke's absence is a gaping void, an abyss that swallows everything in its path.

I start running towards my chambers, my feet moving without thought. I must do something; I am tired of sitting and watching the Hightowers and my silver-haired uncles plot to destroy us. I cannot allow myself to grief.

"Princess, is everything—"

"Luke is dead, Alisha." I bend my knees in front of the scorching hot chest that holds my three dragon eggs. Thunder roars outside the palace’s windows, and I know a storm is coming. Suddenly, I am struck by panic. Arms shaking, I lift the chest and place the cloak over my head.

"Whatever do you think you are doing?" Alisha's voice rises, and I jump. I turn around, hands burning.

"I cannot bear to be purposeless to my mother..." I choke on my own tears. "To my family anymore." Suddenly, everything goes quiet, and a ringing sound makes my ears ache.

Before Alisha can speak again, I take the chest and sprint through the door. I dodge the knights and household folk with ease, as they are also distracted by my sweet brother’s death. The palace of Dragonstone is buzzing with panic, sorrow, and derangement, making it trouble-free for me to leave. I hear dragons' cries and roars coming from the dragon pit, and my body acts on its own. I grip the chest tighter.

My grandsire passed just a few days after we returned to Dragonstone, and Alicent has already planned to usurp my mother by putting Aegon on the throne. My drunk, good-for-nothing, and irresponsible uncle. My heartbeat quickens when I think about Aemond. Before we left King’s Landing, we shared a kiss. I have tried not to think about it, about how my stomach turns, and my heart skips a beat when it comes to Aemond. I was a fool.

He murdered my baby brother.

The cold air sends a chill down my spine, and I am reminded of the weight of the chest I am holding. My arms start burning. Even if my dragons hatched, they would be useless to me. There is no guarantee they will accept me, and they will be too small to fly if it comes to war. When it comes to war. I do not have the luxury of waiting; time is not on my side. I start climbing a hill, my body throbbing with pain. I do not know where I am going, and I do not know if I am returning alive. When I arrive at the top of the hill, my palms are burning. I feel the first drops of rain on my hot cheeks as I look up at the jet-black sky. The winds are strong, and the moon peeks from behind a cloud.

“Ouch.” I drop the chest on the wet grass as steam starts rising out of it, and my heart drops. Could it be? My dragon eggs are hatching.

I open the chest, my hands trembling, and I see the first crack on the middle egg. The shell splits further, revealing a small, horned hatchling. Its scales are the colour of deep, rich mud, glistening with a sheen of newborn moisture. Its eyes, a striking shade of honey, peer up at me with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. It lets out a high-pitched screech, its tiny wings unfurling slightly as it takes in its surroundings.

Shortly after, the second egg begins to fracture. The pieces fall away, revealing a hatchling that is the spitting image of Syrax, with gleaming, pale gold scales that shimmer in the dim light. This dragon’s eyes are a fierce, bright yellow, filled with an innate sense of pride and defiance. It growls, a surprisingly deep sound for such a small creature, and stretches its delicate wings, testing their strength.

Before I can fully process the first two, the final egg starts to crack open. A long-necked hatchling emerges, its scales a soft, buttery yellow. Its wings are larger in proportion to its body, giving it an almost ethereal appearance. This one is quieter, its cries softer, more like chirps. It lifts its tiny wings, attempting to fly, but only managing to flutter slightly before settling down.

The three of them are no bigger than small dogs, yet their presence is monumental. They wobble towards me on unsteady legs, their honey-coloured eyes filled with a babe-like curiosity and a glimmer of recognition. I wonder if they hatched because they felt the sorrow in my heart, the burning need for purpose and revenge.

This is all I have ever wanted.

I am overwhelmed with a rush of emotions, watching the three warm-coloured hatchlings. They are beautiful, each unique, each a miracle. The muddy-scaled hatchling with its piercing honey eyes, the golden Syrax lookalike with its proud yellow gaze, and the delicate yellow dragon with its ethereal wings. Their cries fill the air, hot steam rising from their tiny bodies as they nuzzle against me.

They have all chosen me, I think, and I hope that I am right. I smile, feeling a strange mixture of maternal pride and fierce determination. I may not have a war dragon, but I have dragon blood, and they know it. The hatchlings' shrieks become more alarmed and nervous as the moonlight is stolen by a black shadow, and all three of them jump into my arms. Holding the hatchlings, I swiftly turn around, and my eyes are met with a pair of gigantic, emerald-coloured dragon eyes staring at me from above.

At first, I mistakenly thought that the huge dragon before me was Vermithor, who had decided to take a stroll into the night, but I soon realize that this dragon has black scales and is much bigger than Vermithor. I squint my eyes, attempting to figure out who this dragon is, but before I come to any conclusion, a low grumble shakes the ground beneath me. My hatchlings grow restless, and suddenly, I am hit with a realization. I let the hatchlings go, putting them back on the ground, and they wail, frightened. The coal-black dragon lowers its head and squints its eyes at my hatchlings. With a sharp snarl, the dragon swallows my three hatchlings, the earth shaking under its weight.

“Sȳrje.” Very well. I speak, and in a second, my hatchlings are gone, but I do not feel sad. The dragon keeps his emerald gaze on me, and I study him further, noticing the two massive horns sticking out of his forehead like obsidian towers.

This must be Cannibal, the largest and oldest of the three wild dragons roaming Dragonstone. He has never had a rider and is often depicted as a wild, violent beast. I feel the ground shake once again as the gigantic dragon lowers its wing before me. I lift my arm up, reaching for its head. His growls become louder, and I watch his two long horns reach for me as his neck stretches out. His abyssal black scales absorb all the moonlight, giving him a shadowy presence.

“Dohaeres, Cannibal.” Serve, Cannibal. I waste no time and take my first step forward towards his shoulder. The dragon growls, but I do not feel menace in its voice. “Dohaeres.” Serve. I take another step towards him and look up. His body is immense, and with no dragon saddle, the chances of me mounting him and not perishing are low, but not non-existent. Cannibal lowers his body even more, puffing hot steam out of his nostrils. I make contact, touching the side of his shoulder, and I tremble when I touch his freezing scales. He shifts again, and I take a step back, almost falling to the ground.

“Lykiri.” Calm down. I say in a comforting voice. With haste, I use the side of his wing, his tilted horn, and his scales to climb on his back. Before I can process that I am on dragon back, Cannibal suddenly gets up, startling me. I grab onto him and pray to the gods that I will not fall. His scales are rough under my body, my thighs already aching, but I brace and tighten my grip.

The dragon takes off with a growl, and I lower myself, hugging his back tightly. He was starving. He was starving, and he claimed me. My heart beats faster and faster, and I feel the dragon’s blood run through my veins. I am reminded of my grandsire’s words: The idea that we control dragons is an illusion. I was completely helpless before him, and he made his decision. I am not in control.

His long wings cut through the thick clouds as we make our way above them. Cannibal rumbles, sending vibrations through my whole body. The air cuts my skin, and he picks up the pace, flying above the clouds. I straighten my back, looking around, trying to decipher where we are headed. My cloak flies off, followed by the bow that was holding my long hair together.

I cannot help but hold tight and admire this majestic dragon. His huge, black scales shine in the faint moonlight, each one like a perfect shield. His wings, vast and powerful, cut through the night air gracefully, despite his massive size. The beat of those wings sends vibrations through my entire body, a reminder of the incredible power beneath me. My heart is full of sorrow and pride, each emotion battling within me. The sorrow for Luke, my beloved brother taken too soon, feels overwhelming. Yet, pride swells within me, for in this moment, I am connected to a creature of legend, a dragon few have seen, and none have tamed. I wonder if Luke sent Cannibal to me from beyond the grave. The thought is both comforting and haunting. Could Luke, with his gentle soul, have reached out from the afterlife to guide this magnificent beast to me? I imagine his face, his innocent eyes filled with curiosity, now watching over me with a wisdom beyond his years. Perhaps it is his spirit that stirs within Cannibal, a final act of brotherly love to protect me in my darkest hour. As we continue to soar through the night, the stars above us and the world far below, I allow myself to believe that Luke’s spirit is guiding me. His presence feels real, and I whisper a silent promise to him. I will be strong. I will carry on. And I will make sure that his death is not in vain. With Cannibal beneath me and Luke’s spirit within me, I am no longer just a grieving sister. I am a rider of the largest dragon that has ever lived, a symbol of hope and defiance against Aemond and the others who seek to destroy my family.

I must have lost track of time, and we must have been flying for a while because I look at the horizon and notice the first sun rays peeking above the sea. All around me, we are surrounded by sea and salt.

"Where are we going, boy?" I whisper, and my body starts to shiver. Without my cloak, I am left with my evening dress, not suited for flying and absolutely not suited for dragon back. I tighten my grip and dare to look past his head. My eyes widen as I realize where we are. King’s Landing. He has flown me to King’s Landing. Panic rushes through my whole body, and my stomach rumbles. Does he know I am angry at my uncle? Does he feel my anger and my hunger for revenge? Will he burn down the palace?

" Daor, Cannibal." No, Cannibal. I say, lowering myself again, attempting to be as close to him as possible. I cannot show the greens that I have claimed a dragon, not yet.

Cannibal lowers himself, and I almost slip and fall. He begins his descent upon King’s Landing. I start climbing his back, grabbing onto every scale I can get my hands on, and slowly making my way up to his head. I thank the gods he does not have a long neck like Caraxes, and I continue my climb. I am close to his head when I hear the first scream and look down. A sailor on King’s Landing beach has spotted us. Soon, more folk start screaming as Cannibal reduces altitude.

"Lykiri." Calm down. I say, grabbing his horns. Cannibal growls again, and soon enough, he makes his way to the Red Keep, the castle’s towers shining dimly in the morning sun. I drown in panic. I do not know what to do.

"Dragon!" I hear the guards shout.

The dragon screeches, a deep and frightening growl, and I feel we are hit by arrows. None of them pierce him, though. Cannibal does not stop, and he circles around one of the castle’s towers, ignoring the White Cloak’s countless arrows that are being thrown in his direction. I recognize the tower we are circling because I’ve been inside the chambers not long ago. Aemond’s chambers. I lower myself and pray that nobody sees that Cannibal has a rider.

“Daor!” No! Feeling powerless, I yell. “Dohaeres.” Serve.

-

Before I can process what happened, Cannibal takes off and I am left on Aemond’s balcony. Cannibal has taken off as swiftly as he landed, disappearing above the clouds. I am unsure if I was spotted, or if the guards saw that Cannibal has a rider. One thing I know for sure is that Aemond has not noticed my arrival.

Thankfully, I do not leave anywhere without a dagger. I take it out of my grater and make my way to the door. The sun has not yet risen, and it is difficult for me to see through the window. But I can hear.

“Maehrys, Maehrys, Maehrys.” Aemond’s voice is trembling, filled with something that makes my heartbeat quicken. Does he know I am here? 

I look back, hoping to see Cannibal in my proximity, but it is hopeless. There is no going back. I hold my breath and open the balcony door as quietly as I can. I thank the Gods that Aemond has his back turned on me and is sitting in front of the fireplace on a chair. The first thing I notice is his eyepatch, slanted on the small table beside him. The second thing I noticed is an empty flask of wine next to the eyepatch. He mutters under his breath, words I cannot understand, and puts his head in his hands. I slowly and swiftly make my way to him, holding my breath and hoping he does not hear my heartbeat.

Suddenly, I cannot hear again. Suddenly, my heart tells me to pierce my dagger through the back of his skull. Suddenly, I am two and ten again, relentlessly harassed by my uncle.

I grab the chair he is sitting on and turn it around, my muscles aching and my heart pounding. With a swift kick, Aemond falls on his back, startled. Before he has time to react, I put all my body weight onto his, placing his left wrist under my right knee. I grab his right hand with my free hand and place my dagger underneath his chin.

“Maehrys?” He asks. Aemond’s cheeks are flushed and wet, his good eye is wide open, and his sapphire eye is reflecting the fireplace’s fire. I waste no time and apply pressure onto his throat with my dagger.

“Why?” I ask, swallowing hard. For the first time in my life, I do not act out on my anger, and decide that before I kill my uncle, I want to get as much information about the greens as I can.

“I did not mean to kill him!” he exclaims. The desperation in his voice gives me a rush and I loosen the pressure on my dagger. “I just-“ he chokes. “I just wanted to scare him, get revenge because he took my eye.” I apply pressure again. He does not react. “I lost control of Vhagar.” I can smell the alcohol in his breath and the regret in his voice.

“He was but a child.” Once again, I feel tears run down my cheeks.

“I was a child too.” He speaks. “When he took my eye, when Jace and Aegon laughed at me because I did not have a dragon.”

“And now you do.” I cut a bit deeper, a small river of blood ran down his neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, and my tears fall onto his face. “I’m sorry, Maehrys.” I feel his long leg kick my back and I wince in pain, loosening the grip on my dagger. In a heartbeat, he knocks it out of my hand and throws me on the floor, his body now on mine, holding me with great strength. My heart beats faster than before and I squirm, hopelessly trying to get him off of me. My mind is foggy, and I lose control of my body, kicking the floor, attempting to grab anything in my proximity, but all my efforts are for nothing.

Aemond’s grip tightens, his breath hot and ragged against my ear. “Please, Maehrys,” he whispers, his voice a mix of desperation and regret. “I never wanted any of this.”

But his words do little to soothe the storm inside me. My heart is a cauldron of rage and grief, each beat echoing the loss of my brother, the betrayal, and the pain. I look into Aemond’s eyes, searching for any sign of the boy I once knew, the uncle who could have been different. But all I see is the man who took Luke from me, and I cannot forgive that.

With a final, desperate surge of strength, I try to push him off, my nails digging into his arms, but he is too strong. My movements grow weaker, and I feel the fight leaving my body. Tears of frustration and sorrow stream down my face as I lay there, pinned and powerless, the dagger just out of reach. The weight of my helplessness crushes me as Aemond’s face hovers inches from mine, his eyes filled with a torment that mirrors my own.

“Why?” I ask again, choking on my tears, my voice breaking under the weight of my sorrow and rage.

“I told you, I lost control of Vhagar,” he answers quickly, his voice tinged with desperation, but it isn't enough for me.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Why were you saying my name before I attacked you?” I try to stall, needing to understand, needing something more from him.

His one good eye, filled with a mixture of pain and something I can’t quite place, locks onto mine. “Maehrys,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I was calling for you because… because I needed you. I needed to tell you how sorry I am, how much I regret everything.”

“Regret?” I spit out the word, feeling the hot sting of betrayal and grief. “You think regret will bring Luke back?”

“No,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Nothing can bring him back. But I needed you to know that I am not the monster you think I am. I needed you to hear it from me, to see that I am suffering too.” His words hang in the air, a desperate plea for absolution that I am not sure I can give.

Then, without warning, he crashes his lips onto mine. It is not a kiss of love, but of desperation, anger, and regret. His lips are forceful, almost punishing, as if trying to convey all the emotions he cannot put into words. I try to resist, but the intensity of the kiss overwhelms me, drawing me into the storm of his feelings. Our tears mingle, the salt stinging the rawness of the kiss. His hands grip my arms tightly, almost painfully, as if afraid I will disappear if he lets go. The kiss deepens, a fierce battle of wills, a collision of our broken hearts. I taste the wine on his tongue. My own anger and sorrow surge to the surface, and I kiss him back with equal fervour, letting all my emotions pour into that single, heart-wrenching moment.

Our kiss is broken by Cannibal’s screeches, and I seize the moment. While Aemond is distracted, I push him off me and make a run for the balcony doors. I open both of them and sigh in relief when I see my dragon, the powerful wind wiping away my tears. I wait a few seconds before turning back to Aemond.

"Have you ever wondered how I managed to get up here?" I ask Aemond, a sadistic smile forming on my face.

"You—" he starts, but I do not let him finish. He has said and done enough for one night.

"I am no longer dragonless," I tell him, basking in the horrified expression that crosses his face.

Cannibal puffs hot air out of his nostrils, a sign he wants me to climb him. The sound of his wings flapping stops, and I hear one of the outer walls of the Red Keep almost giving way under his weight. The dragon lowers his wing, and I successfully climb it.

As I settle onto Cannibal's back, I take one last look at Aemond. His face is a mix of shock and fear, emotions I never thought I’d see in him. The satisfaction of seeing him so vulnerable fills me with a sense of triumph. But there is no time to dwell on it.

Cannibal takes off, and the rush of wind engulfs me, scattering my thoughts. The kiss, the fight, the fleeting moment of connection—they are all left behind in the chaos. My focus sharpens as the Red Keep becomes smaller beneath us.

In the sky, I find a small victory. I have my dragon, my escape, and for now, that is enough. The pain and confusion of tonight will have to wait. There is no time to process what just happened, no room for lingering on the emotions that battle within me. All that matters is the freedom of the open sky and the powerful beast beneath me, carrying me far away from the nightmares of the past.

With a final screech, we are vertical again, his wings fluttering with violence and speed, and I am almost thrown off him. My whole body jerks violently as the dragon ascends, and I lose my grip momentarily, my fingers slipping from the rough scales. The world tilts and spins, and I see the ground far below, a blur of grey stone and green foliage. My heart leaps into my throat, and a scream escapes my lips as I feel myself sliding, the wind tearing at my clothes and hair.

I claw desperately at Cannibal's scales, my nails scraping against the hard surface. My legs dangle precariously, and my body is aching as we gain altitude. The dragon's immense wings beat powerfully, each stroke sending a rush of air that threatens to dislodge me completely. I manage to catch hold of a small ridge on Cannibal's back, my fingers digging in with all my strength. My arms burn with the effort, muscles straining as I fight to pull myself back up.

"Cannibal, please!" I cry out, my voice barely audible over the roar of the wind and the dragon's growls. He seems oblivious to my struggle, focused entirely on his flight. The cold air bites at my skin, and I feel a sharp pain in my palms as they begin to bleed, the rough scales cutting into them.

I cannot die. Not now, when I am no longer dragon less. Not now, when I have a fair shot of defeating Aemond. Not now, when I finally do not feel powerless anymore.

I cannot die.

Also read on: AO3

Taglist: @watermel0nsugarhigh @ondereleutheromania@literishdegree99

[tsukii0002]

Along side the religious mc, what about a pagan mc who keeps trying to convince everyone of the other ancient gods because they speak to said gods, and no one believes it until they talk to someone like zuez or thor (can't spell lol) during a bad storm with thunder and lightning while outside?

Like, I think it'll be funny

DON'T MESS WITH MC AND THEIR HUMAN WORD GODS

Mc entering the doing room with a grim face.

Mc: Who has blown out the candles on my altar?

The brothers look at each other.

Lucifer: it's for safety Mc, well end burning (again) as we continue like this.

Mc: Lucifer is my altar to Hestia!! You can't put out the flames in honor of the home fire.

Satan: Mc pleace, mythology is just a tale.

Mc: Are YOU really telling me this?

Belphie: they are just inventions Mc...

Mc: the gods are real!!!

Levi: then, how is it possible that Thor and Zeus are both God's od thunder lol?

Mc: the human word is vast and ancient, each mythology has its own domains and must be respected.

Mammon: yeah, yeah, Mc, I hope your little friends the God don't punish us for it...

Mc: *squinting* who plays with fire ends up getting burned.

.

.

.

After several days, an electrical storm broke out in the Devildom and it does not stop.

Mammon: I can't take it anymore, when is this storm going to stop?

Beel: this is very weird... This doesn't usually happen in Devildom

Asmo: I need a night without lightnings nor thunders!!! I can't rest

They all enter in the House soaked and find Mc having tea whit two men.

The brothers: ...

Lucifer: Who are they?

Mc: *grinning* dear biblical creatures let me introduce you to Thor, God of thunder,son of Odin and Zeus, father of God's and God of thunders as well

Zeus raises his hand and, at that moment, a thunder rolls.

Mc: I thought that maybe it's a good time to introduce you to all my friends.

.

.

.

Lucifer: ...

Zeus: ...

Lucifer: so... are you telling me that your daughter was born from your head?

Zeus: that's right.

Lucifer: It is a Joke?

Zeus: well, at least she was not spawned  exclusively from my anger.

Lucifer: *angry ofended demon noises*

.

.

.

Levi: so you are a sea god?

Poseidon: yeah, I’m the king of the oceans, the great Poseidon, capable of causing earthquakes and tidal waves, hero of titanomachy and father of numerous creatures.

Levi: ...

Levi: I think that that is a hit to my self esteem.

.

.

.

Mammon: so you are friend with Mc?

Loki: yes

Mammon: and you are a god of tricks and deceit?

Loki: that's how everybody know me.

Mammon: *Realicing* That why Mc always beats me at cards!!

Loki: oh no, i offered my help but... they didn't need it, you are easy enougth to fool whithout my magic

.

.

.

Solomon: I still can't belive that Mc had ties to all of you.

Isis: well, they are a lovely person, and they have respected and honored us since they were a child.

Solomon: ... you are a magic god, aren't you? 

Isis: *Look up and down at Solomon* Yes I am

Solomon: could you teach me some spells? I want to use them to cook something for Mc and the others, you know to surprise them.

Isis: oh boy, that's a pathetic excuse, I'm not going to teach you anything. Besides, there is no magic that can save what you call cooking.

Solomon: ... auch

.

.

.

Asmo: so... you are the embodiment of beauty?

Afrodita: of course, don't you have eyes?

Asmo: well I have not seen anything that you have achieved that I have not.

Afrodita: *similing* cute little demon, I defeated you the moment I shared a bath with Mc.

Asmo: ...

Asmo: you win, teach me, please

.

.

.

Barbatos: ...

Hades: ...

Hades: you remind me of my father.

Barbatos: excuse me?

Hades: yeah, the whole thing about controlling time and being a cruel criature... I hope you are not one of those who devour their children.

Luke looks at Barbatos with teary eyes.

Luke: are you going to devour me?

Barbatos: Luke no

.

.

.

Simeon observes with Mc the chaos that has been unleashed in the Devildom thanks to the different gods.

Simeon: I never would have expected something like this...

Mc: the truth is that I do.

Simeon: and that all those stories were real ...

Mc: ... Simeon, dear, you are an angel, we are in the hell and I leve with seven demons, I've meet the death and here, our sorcerer friend lived for hundred of years... Are you really telling me this?

Simeon: sometimes I forget those details...

Mc: yeah, you should remember that I'm a human holy chicken.

.

.

.

Hestia: we have been able to help you?

Mc: yes, I appreciate that you brought the whole troop.

Hestia: ha ha, it has been interesting.

Mc: no one will dare to touch your flames now

Hestia: *kiss Mc's forehead* take care dear child, enjoy your live here and look for your friend, they are interesting creatures.

Mc: I'll do, my goodness.

Hestia: and don't forget where you come from.

.

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Well, well, have I enjoyed writing this? I have enjoyed it, I am a lover of mythology,bI know Greek mythology the most, but I would love to learn more about other mythologies. All the scenarios that could be written... Thank you  @shota-catziwa much for the suggestion, I would have liked to delve deeper into mc's relationship with the gods but my head doesn't give for more. I just hope you enjoy it even if it's a little bit.

[beautifulloverwitch]

By Fire, Sea and Blood

the untold tale of an approaching death

Act I: chapter seven: false peace.

previous ///// next

Summary: House Targaryen is as divided as ever, all having solidified their places within either faction. A grievous task that put love to a difficult test. Although the storm may have seized its frightening drums of thunder and destructive strikes of lightening, it has not gone yet, and all who thought that are fools for latching onto hope so soon.

_______________

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)

WC: 13.8k

Warnings: Death, mentions of death, Violence.

Masterlist

It was a sleepless night for the occupants of High tide. Viserys held his head in his hands as he grieved the state of his family. Alicents assault on Rhaenyra had proven to the slow man that this was no childish quarrel, this was a conflict rooted within this family’s generations. One, that he had regrettably believed, would have never existed had he not taken Alicent to wife.

His queen stood within her bedchambers, blankly staring into the dancing flames of the hearth, distraught and ashamed of what she had done. Grasping at her shaking hands as she attempted to regain what she could of her composure.

Her lady in waiting, Talia, entered her bed chambers giving a gracious nod to the handmaidens that had busied themselves cleaning it out.

“My queen?” she asked the dazed Alicent “the hand.”

Alicent squirmed as she adjusted her posture, her father marching in with an unnerving expression on his face. One she could not discern if it was of disappointment or pride. The handmaidens bowed their heads as he walked past them without paying them any mind, rushing out of the chambers as he approached the queen.

She glanced back at the flames, awaiting the tongue lashing she would receive from her father, accepting it gracefully “say your piece.”

“Now, what piece is that?” he credulously asked.

She sighed, at his cruelty for having her list her wrongdoings “I’ve conducted myself in a manner, unbefitting my station, or any other,” she rolled her jaw before she continued to confess ashamedly “I lost composure, assaulted the princess,” she faced her father only a moment before looking down at her fiddling hands, still shaken by what they had been capable of doing “Already the word is spreading, the gossip speculating that I’ve gone mad.”

“All true,” he agreed.

She sighed “I’ve disgraced myself, and ensured my husband’s favour will forever rest on her,” she admitted, bowing her head as she awaited her father to state her wrongs in a far more eloquent manner.

“And yet,” his face brightened with pride, “I’ve never seen that side of you, my daughter.”

She lifted her head, hating his admiration of her doings.

“I even doubted its existence,” he joked.

She was quick to deplore her actions “it was an ugly thing, I regret it-.”

“We play an ugly game,” he told firmly, still a proud smile lining his often tense lips “And now, I see that you have the determination to win it.”

She clutched her wrist as she remembered “Rhaenyra-.”

He continued for her as though he knew the words before they had left her lips. “You see her for what she is, what the King’s stubbornness has wrought.”

Alicent lowered her gaze as she asked anxiously “what will he say to me?”

“He’ll forgive you,” he assured as he stepped closer to her “what else could he do?” He spoke with such sureness, for he knew the king so well he thought him predictable “Now go to him, be penitent, plead the injury to your son,” he advised “keep a grip on your passions, and I promise you in time, you and I together will prevail.”

She gazed upon her father fearfully, but assured by his guidance.

“What that rogue Aemond did, in winning Vhagar to our side,” a smile tugged at his lip as he recalled how the boy had slipped away “the boy was right it’s worth a thousand times the price he paid.”

Laenor stormed through the corridors of High tide, worried for his family. When he had heard the news of what had occurred the night prior, he feared the worst. The gnawing guilt tore him away from his drunken stupor.

Barging into the room he saw them all. His wife wincing as she held a brave face before her children, who had not been spared either. Lucerys with cotton stuffed up his swollen and bloody nose, Jacaerys’s face littered with purple bruises, and Daenerys pressing a cloth to her cheek hiding her wound. The three children turned to look at their father, making him meet the face of his greatest failure.

“Is everyone alright?” he asked, wincing at the question.

“The broken nose is the worst-,” the Maester assured.

“Thank you, Maester,” Rhaenyra told, clutching at her freshly stitched arm “leave us,” she dismissed.

The Maester reluctantly took his leave. Rhaenyra turned to look at her children “you as well, you’ve already found enough trouble today.”

“Yes mother,” they all ashamedly answered.

Daenerys and Jacaerys stood at either side of Lucerys as they walked out of the room, helping the dazed boy walk. Laenor brushed their shoulders as they walked past.

He turned to look at Rhaenyra, admitting the obvious “I should have been there.”

She had a jaded look on her face as she recalled the night's events “those should be our house words.”

Laenor chuckled lightly as he glanced over his shoulder to her before turning to look at the table covered with bloody cloth and discarded thread “I have fought dreadful enemies, but I could not defend my dear sister, far from home and in agony…” he pursed his lips as he huffed through his nose “I failed to defend you.”

“Sit down,” Rhaenyra told, startling the man. He sat before her, with his head bowed as he listened attentively “Aemond called our children bastards,” she said.

His lips had parted at the news, shaking his head in remorse before he proclaimed “I have failed you Rhaenyra, our marriage…” The words proved difficult to say “I tried,” his face contorted with remorse as he told, thinking she had not known “Our children, I do love them.”

“I know,” she softly assured.

“Deeply,” he emphasised, his mouth tightened as he searched his mind for the right words “but I have not, mayhaps, loved them enough.”

Rhaenyra sat quietly as she pondered his words, a delighted hum leaving her as she pictured “I had hoped to bear your children, the few times we lay together, things might have been different.”

He too imagined such a possibility, loathing how he had neglected such a chance “I hate the gods for making me as they did.”

Rhaenyra frowned at his words “I do not, you are an honourable man, with a good heart,” she chuckled as he glanced up at her “it’s a rare thing.”

He hummed, touched by her compliment but knew a solemn matter had to be addressed “we made an arrangement all those years ago to do our duty and yet explore happiness.”

Rhaenyra laughed, for she could never have imagined this to be the outcome of their arrangement. Laenor grinned awkwardly before stating to her firmly “there are times, I think when… these things cannot mutually exist,” his lips pursed before he informed her “Ser Qarl will return soon to the fighting in the stepstones,” he brought his chair closer to her as he declared to the bewildered Rhaenyra “but I recommit myself to you, and to strengthening our house as we prepare you for your ascension,” Rhaenyra’s chin lowered fearful for Laenor “I will raise our sons to be princes of the realm and our daughter, a queen.”

“Laenor…” she spoke, thinking this much more than she could have wished from him.

“You deserve better than what I have been,” he told, not a stutter in his voice, “you deserve a husband.”

Annora had taken to emptying Daenerys’s room of her things for the trip back to Dragonstone. Her eyes worriedly flicking over towards the girl who sat still on her bed, back facing the eyes of the room as she stared down at the object in her hands. Daenerys fiddled with her compass, flicking it open and shut as she questioned her right to keep it anymore. It pained her to consider that the Aemond that had given her the compass was the very same Aemond that had left her wounded in too many ways. She knew that she should have been revolted by him, that she should have come to hate him. To that she asked herself how could she, how could she possibly hate the boy she once called her friend? How could she hate the boy who would spend hours with her divulging his greatest troubles to her and she to him?

A part of her felt foolish for not having ever realised it sooner. Last night's events had laid before her an easy puzzle, with pieces she had long had, but she was far too entrapped in her own delusion to have bothered casting doubt upon their friendship. His disdain whenever she would speak of her family to him, with either worry or content he always seemed to have the same look of disinterest at their mention. How his face would harden whenever she had to leave him to tend to them. She began to think herself fortunate that she had not bid him goodbye once she had departed to Dragonstone, for fear of his wrath. Aemond never had cared for her family, rightfully so, they had only served to torment him. Yet even with the kindness she had offered him, he had harmed her in a manner indescribable.

How comfortably the word “Bastards,” had left his lips. It must have been easy for he had not faced her as he uttered such an insult. It was the first time she had heard the word uttered unashamedly. Even Aegon had not the gall to say it aloud. She wondered if the word had danced about his head whenever he saw her, was that the cause of his smiles, his joy? 

As painful as his actions had been, she argued they were not worth him losing an eye. Her brother Luke had frantically explained to her as she guided him to the Hall of nine, that he was scared, he wanted to defend his elder siblings, he feared Aemond would do further harm, and he did not wish to stand by and watch. An action Daenerys was regrettably guilty of. The remainder of the night Dany had spent it scrutinising her every action, to her dismay, she had found so many ways to prevent such a calamity had she not stupidly wandered off again. Had she stayed in her bedchamber, Rhaena would have found her. she could have convened between them all and prevented the confrontation from escalating further.

She hated the daze that she had fallen into during the attack. While her brothers drew their blades to her defence she stood by with a dumbfounded look on her face. She pinched her ear harshly in reprimand, shouting at herself not to cry, for she had no right to, she was their elder sister and she had failed to protect them, this was but a small injury compared to all that had happened to them. ‘Learn that your brothers are forever first, not the boy you had taken to reading a stupid history book with’ she chided herself.

A knock at her door made her wipe away at her tear stained cheeks. She glanced to the door then to the equally confused Annora.

The handmaiden opened the doors and bowed her head as she was faced by the wide-eyed Helaena.

Daenerys paid no mind as she kept her eyes fixated on the compass gilded with guilt “Who is it, Annora?”

Annora stuttered out “Princess Helaena, your grace.”

Daenerys’s neck had cracked at the swiftness of its turn, she discarded the compass beside her as she shot up from her seat and made her way to the door “Helaena?”

Annora stepped aside as Helaena made her way into the room, closely followed by the brooding Ser Criston and her mother’s handmaiden Talia. His eyes darkened with loathing as he saw the girl, a shred of pride taking root within him as he saw her shrink beneath his stare.

Helaena’s hands fiddled at her sides, her eyes looking at Daenerys’s feet, finding no will to look at the girls face. Her lips twisted to the side as she turned her head slightly to where Criston had stood “can I speak to her alone?”

His lips tightened, hands clenching behind him as he reminded her “the queen commanded me not to leave your side,” he told, sending a cautioning glance to the girl of ten that stood awkwardly before them all.

Helaena turned to face him “it will only be a moment,” she told her eyes shining like porcelain glass “Please, I wish to speak to my niece, alone.”

Daenerys frowned at the foreign term; she had never been acknowledged in such a manner by her friend. Helaena spoke the term with endearment, but it still felt wrong on her lips as she tasted the word for the first time.

Criston looked over Helaena’s face with worry, hating himself for succumbing to her pleads. He reluctantly left the room after sending a warning stare to Daenerys. Making it clear to both that the door was to stay open.

Helaena dismissed her handmaiden and Daenerys followed suit, dismissing Annora.

The two girls stood awkwardly in front of one another, Daenerys’s heel digging into the ground as she searched for the right words to say. She feared to fall the first victim to whatever tongue lashing the kind Helaena had conjured from whatever darkness could have possibly existed within her. Daenerys would take it with a stringent face for she had believed she deserved it. She accepted she would no longer be entitled to the kind voice of her friend, how could she have any right to it after what she had just allowed to occur.

Helaena stood solemnly, a slight sway in her stature as she fought against the words that had begun to push against her lips. Her cheeks still wet with a sheen of tears from arguing against the harsh command her mother had enforced upon her. She had searched for her father in hopes of gaining his objection in the matter, but he refused to face any of his children, even the maimed one.

Helaena had pitied what had happened to her brother, but never would she blame Daenerys for her brothers’ actions. She found it just as troubling to choose between her friend and her family, finding the grey line between them both impossible to ignore, they were all her family, why must she choose?

As she glanced up to the girl, her eyes landed on the swollen and bruised cheek of Daenerys, the wound concealed by a thick piece of cotton, blood gone brown as it dried. 

Helaena gulped and did her best to stiffen her face. All that had done was make her face tremble as she fought against her anguish “I’ve been told… to never speak to you again,” she plainly stated, not sweetening her words for Daenerys, who’s eyes blew wide with anxious disbelief.

“What?” she asked, her voice did not waver for she thought this a joke, but she knew Helaena to not be so cruel.

Helaena flinched at the sound of her voice, head beginning to shake slightly as she explained “Mother told me that I cannot see you anymore, nor can I write to you,” her lips quivered with trepidation as she recalled “and it is best that you don’t attend my wedding.”

A bewildered chuckle escaped the apprehensive Daenerys “you can’t possibly mean that,” she told, awaiting a ray of light to shine through the thick solemn cloud that hovered above Helaena’s face “what had happened was regretful, and if the queen wishes it I will apologise on the behalf of my brothers,” her eyes began to flutter as she felt her tears way heavy on them “I will offer my own eye if it will sate her!” she desperately bargained “please Helaena, we’ve no fault in this, plead to her to understand that.”

Helaena’s hands clenched in front of her “she refused to listen to me, and grandsire said it was for the best of this family,” she spoke, her mouth twisting with contempt when she recalled the vile ways her mother had spoken of the young girl, Alicents anger was still freshly lit at the time “the matter was not negotiable, I’m sorry-, I barely managed to convince her to let me say goodbye.”

Daenerys shook her head, denying the harsh reality that this may be their last encounter. She rushed forward clasping Helaena’s hands in her own, running her thumbs hopefully over the rigid hands of her friend “No, she can’t do this, let her exact a punishment in any other manner but not like this!” she stated, eyes fighting to meet the avoidant Helena's eyes ``If she were to do this, I may never see you again, ever!”

Helaenas gaze shot up from the ground “that’s not true! When your mother ascends the throne, you can return to the red keep!”

Daenerys shook her head “she will, but I won’t! I would be stuck at Dragonstone until the time came for me to ascend the iron throne and that is only if I choose to become queen!” she frantically explained, dread beginning to clench around her heart as she recalled “if I were to refuse, I would be sent away to marry some lord-.”

Helaena’s hand clenched around Daenerys’s trembling ones “that won’t happen.”

“Deny it all you wish, but it will!” she restated “I would never see you again, and-,” Her lips pursed as she attempted to gather herself, her breaths growing laboured as she considered every possibility that her unknown future could have possibly had in mind “I can’t lose another friend Helaena! Please!” she pleaded, sobs beginning to shake her tense shoulders.

Helaena’s lips quivered, how could she survive the coming decades alone, with Aegon as her husband and Aemond controlling each and every one of her steps with the support of their mother and Grandsire. She dreaded a future absent of the understanding and caring of Daenerys. 

She leapt forward, engulfing the sobbing Daenerys into her arms, the two crying together, Helaena mustering whatever restraint she could have possibly had to bite back her sobs and begin to accept her fate. Running her hand up and down the back of the sobbing Daenerys, practically chanting her whispered words “Break away a branch of red, charging towards a dances end,” she spoke with desperation “Breaks away a branch of red, charging to her uncertain end.”

A knock had come at the door, Criston found her stay to have been longer than necessary to him, a moment longer and the queen would have been disappointed.

Helaena tensed at the sound, and pried herself away from Daenerys, who followed Helaena’s hands as they departed her. Helaena reached down and clasped Daenerys’s hands in her own, lifting them up and to her chest as she spoke her words carefully, a hint of a warning in her voice “The darkness will call and the seas will roar, to the tides you succumb and from the tides you will rise, thrice more.”

Daenerys' eyes fluttered with confusion, her mind beginning to ache as she attempted to decipher this riddle. She stumbled forward as Helaena tore herself away and marched towards the door. Swatting the hand of Ser Criston as he attempted to offer her his comfort. Criston sighed with frustration, reaching for the handle of Daenerys’s room and slammed it shut, leaving Daenerys torturously alone in her cold bedchambers.

Helaena stormed past her brother who waited for her patiently down the hall. Sending her a look of pity as he saw her teary eyes and reddened cheeks. Ser Criston stood before Aemond, offering the boy his arm “come my prince, let me escort you to the Queen.”

Aemond looked up at the tender eyed knight, his eye fluttering slightly as he adjusted to the sight. His head shaking from side to side as he was again reminded that he was vulnerable. The slight stumble in his step, the way he kept close to the walls on his left, and the dull ache that thrummed in his head. These newly found plights made him consider the trade he had made, and how fair it truly was.

He had spent the remainder of the night awake; his mother never having left his side since the events at the Hall of nine. He consciously looked at her with a pride he had not before, grateful for a mother like her, a mother willing to stand against the king, just to protect the children he never would have. To his dismay, his mother’s protectiveness cost him another chance with his dragon; he was forbidden from taking to the skies on Vhagar a second time until the Maesters would tell her that he was fit to do so. Even the she-dragon was reluctant to welcome her rider, spurning him from reaching for the netting again, crooning worriedly at him as he sauntered off angrily, clutching at his bandaged face.

The sound of doors bursting open from down the corridor caught his attention, glancing towards the head of dark hair that stormed down the other side, bow and satchel of arrows in hand. He took a step towards where she had gone, longing to speak with her, to hear her tell him that he had been wronged and that her brothers were at fault, that she would do something to avenge him, that she would lend him her ear so he may pour into her his anger and that her tender words would be water to the lashing flames of his justified rage.

His face had hardened once he remembered that she had no kind words for him, no touch of sympathy at his predicament. When he had been writhing on the floor she rushed to her brother’s aid, who remained whole after a confrontation that they had incited. He was the victim, he was attacked and he did the one thing he logically could, he defended himself. The gall of his nephews to stand by when his half-sister had screamed that it was they who had been attacked, they all knew that to be a lie. He wondered if his niece had known the same. Thinking to himself at what point had she come upon such a scene? Was she there from the beginning, but too craven to face him at such a moment? Was she there when his cousins and nephews had him pinned to the ground, beating him mercilessly? Did she know he had no intention of engaging in the confrontation? Mayhaps, to his misfortune, she had walked in when he had called her brothers bastards and threatened them with a torturous death. He doubted it, and entirely denied it; he had hoped her to have been too enthralled in saving her brother from his grasp to have heard him say such a thing.

His lip trembled as he recalled the way she had hurt him, kicking him to the ground like some dog. Treating him in such a manner he would have never known it was Daenerys, he had thought it his brutish cousin Baela, had he known it was Dany he would have never struck her, he may have even seized defending himself if it had meant she would be capable of bolstering reason between them all. She knew just as he had, that a dragon was not claimed by inheritance it was claimed by those daring enough to come face it. They had read over the pages of dragon claiming in their history book thousands of times over, it would be impossible to forget.

The beliefs that his grandsire had instilled within him had been reaffirmed, she would always choose them, and toss him aside, no matter how right he may have been. He wondered to himself, had he been worth enough to her to even become a name for her to remember.

He raised his head, paying one final glance to where she had gone, before marching off after his sister, Criston, stuck at his side.

Rhaenyra clutched at her wounded arm as she looked out onto the horizon. Eyes following the shrinking figure of her fathers ship as it departed for kings landing, staring at it with trepidation and question. She cared less for the ship and more for the one occupant within it, the one person she had a thousand words to say to. Never would either have the gall to face the other after what had happened that night, each left with a scar to be forever reminded of it.

Daemon joined her side, hands resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. Taking a quick glance at her arm before looking up at her.

“Fire is such a strange power,” she said, “everything that house Targaryen has is owed to it,” her fingers danced around one another as she frowned, “yet it has cost us both what we loved.”

He hummed in agreement before sending a considering look to the deep blue blanket of the sea “perhaps the Velaryons knew the truth of it, the sea is the better ally.”

She sent a look of envy towards the sea “fire is a prison… the sea offers an escape.”

Rhaenyra casted Daemon a sad and helpless gaze “I need you uncle…,” she pleaded. Lips beginning to quiver in anxious wait as he paid her no mind “I cannot face the greens alone,” she spoke in her mother tongue, garnering his intrigue “let us bind our blood, just as Aegon the Conqueror did with his sisters,” she proposed to him “with you as my husband and prince consort, my claim would not be so easily challenged,” she searched his curious eyes for a hint of rejection, she found in his eyes pity and regret. Never had Daemon seen her so defeated and alone, and he only fanned the flames that entrapped her in such a state once he had left. 

She looked to the sea “the Velaryons are of the sea, but you and I-,” her eyes followed his face, fearing he had readied to leave her once again as he turned his back towards the sea, contemplating her offer carefully “are made of fire,” she proclaimed proudly “we have always been meant to burn together.”

Daemon sighed before reluctantly reminding her “we could not marry unless Laenor were dead.”

Rhaenyra had not been inflicted by a stutter as she told him.

“I know.”

Her eyes had softened with hesitance as she saw the shocked expression on his face. Resolution had hardened her features as she looked back out into the sea. Missing the proud smile that appeared upon the excited Daemon's face.

The docks were blustering to prepare the ship to Dragonstone. Originally the Targaryen and Velaryon families were to stay at High tide weeks longer but what had happened the night prior made them in no rush to stay a moment longer. Rhaenyra had invited her uncle to stay on Dragonstone before he went to Pentos with his daughters.

The children had all been gathered within Rhaenyra’s quarters. Awaiting to be called onto the ship.

Jacaerys and Lucerys had felt awkward within the room, never having been outnumbered by girls before. Daenerys had taken to answering the wary Rhaena and Baelas questions about Dragonstone.

“Would there be any space for us?” Rhaena curiously asked.

Daenerys scoffed “plenty, the palace is practically empty,” she said.

Baela huffed  “I’d rather stay here than go to all that smog.”

“It’s not too bad!” Luke defended “it’s quite nice in the afternoon!”

Daenerys reluctantly agreed “he’s right,” she leant to Baela as she whispered “doesn’t smell as bad surprisingly.”

The two girls giggled once they saw the boy pout. He hissed as he felt the twinge of pain from his nose, the sound silencing the two as they looked at him worriedly.

Jace observed his brother's face, fearing his nose had begun to bleed again.

“Is he alright?” Daenerys had asked.

He gave her a reassuring smile “he’s fine, he just needs to stop using his snout.”

Rhaena frowned tenderly at the boy, Baela startled her sister when she jumped forward “you did well to show our one eyed cousin, Luke,” she told with a proud smirk on her lips “takes our mothers dragon and insults us beneath the roof of our home.”

Daenerys rested back against her seat at the mention of Aemond.

Jace scoffed at the mention of his uncle “I can’t believe he received no punishment from the king.”

“He threatened to kill us! Gods- he nearly killed Jace and Dany!” Luke exclaimed.

Jace patted his head “you did well to save us!” He admired.

Luke’s lip tightened bashfully, still unsure of how to feel about his doings “I didn’t mean too…” he muttered to himself.

Baela had a smug look on her face as she told “he’ll be forever reminded not to repeat his stupid mistake, and to never cross us,” she said, frowning when she saw the uncertain look on Daenerys’s face.

Rhaena knew the cause of her uncertainty, the guilt that had gripped her as she sat by and heard the words regarding her once friend. Rhaena reached for Daenerys’ hands “you needn’t let him plague your thoughts Dany,” she told “it was best he showed his truth now rather than later.”

Her lips twisted to the side as she heard the words, she hated how comforting they had been.

Baela scoffed “I found him rather annoying, how can you have him as your friend?” She bewilderedly asked “all he would do was ogle at you.”

Daenerys rolled her eyes “everyone does that.”

“Well he had done it a bit too much for my comfort,” she told plopping beside Daenerys.

Daenerys squirmed in her seat, hating where this conversation had ventured “enough of him,” she dismissed before grasping both of her cousins hands “a tale of yesterday he is, today I have the both of you, one friend gone for two in return,” she told with a forceful glint of playfulness in her eyes “I count myself lucky.”

Jacaerys scoffed, falling back against his seat before remarking “I suppose you could call it a fair trade.” 

The lot of them laughed, Daenerys gave a tense smile to her brother as she heard him echo Aemonds words, noticeably discomfited by the reminder.

The door came open and their parents entered, a solemn look on all of their faces, spare for Daemon, there was a ray of excitement on his face that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daenerys “it’s time to go,” Rhaenyra told.

Baela and Rhaena were the first out of the door, receiving light pats on their shoulders by their father. Daemon gave a light nod to Rhaenyra and Laenor before following his daughters.

Rhaenyra shut the door, entrapping her children. Luke asked confusedly “why’d you close the door? We have to get to the ship!”

“There’s still time, they’ve yet to pack the rest of our things on it,” she told before clasping her hands nervously in front of her “I wished to grant us some time to say goodbye to your father, he won’t be joining us on the ship,” she granted the timid Laenor a tight smile.

“What?” Daenerys asked, rushing to her fathers side and gripping his hand “why not? We’re all going, why does he have to stay?”

Rhaenyra had hurriedly answered for him “he wishes to spend a few days longer here, he dearly misses his family and Driftmark.”

Daenerys frowned and glanced up at her solemn father, who seemed lost in contemplation “I can stay too then!” She told, her face brightening with excitement.

Laenor was snapped away from his thoughts by his daughter's words.

Rhaenyra rushed to dismiss her daughter's suggestion “that may not be for the best, with his family's grief still fresh-.”

“I think it is a wonderful idea!” 

Rhaenyra’s eyes had widened with surprise at Laenors answer. He stepped behind his daughter, his sullen look replaced with elation at the prospect of her stay, clutching her shoulders. Daenerys beamed up at her father as she looked at him, practically trembling with excitement.

Rhaenyra was lost for words, this was not the plan “how are the both of you supposed to return together?” She asked frantically.

Luke credulously suggested “maybe they can return on fathers dragon!” He told.

Laenor gave his son an appreciative nod “a wonderful idea, Dany has been pleading for me to take her to the skies for a long time.”

Rhaenyra frowned with worry as she looked between her daughter and Laenor. Her hands itching to tear Daenerys away from her father.

With the assuring nod of Laenor, she had reluctantly agreed “alright then, but you are not to go anywhere without your father,” She sternly told her daughter.

“Of course!”

“And no wandering, whatsoever,” Rhaenyra commanded.

Daenerys gave a stiff nod to her mother before turning around and hugging her father

Laenor told one of the squires at the door “call for my daughter's things to be removed from the ship.”

Jace asked his sister, sending his father a wary look “but who’s to show around Baela and Rhaena.”

Dany smirked at him “you’ve yet to take a lesson in chivalry brother, I hope you take it upon yourself to show them around.” 

His face flushed red, before he cleared his throat.

Luke engulfed his sister in a hug “you’ll both be back soon, right?”

“We will, I’ll be sure to get you something special,” she told her brother.

The two boys ran out of the room after bidding their sister goodbye. Rhaenyra knelt down before her daughter, her face softened with fear and worry. Daenerys had assumed it her mothers instinct spiking her worries again.

She brushed away her daughter's rebellious hair and rested a tender kiss on her cheek “I’ll see you in a few days sweet girl.”

Daenerys smiled, kissing her mothers stiff cheek “goodbye mother.” 

Rhaenyra had to tear herself away from her daughter, and march out of the room as quickly as she could.

Daemon frowned as he saw rhaenyra leave the room without her eldest child “where’s the purple one?” He asked.

Rhaenyra kept her eyes forward as she continued on her way “Daenerys wished to stay.”

“And he let her?”

“Yes.”

Daemon frowned “but the plan-,” he reminded.

“Goes unaffected by this change."

Laenor was full with a vigour his mother and father had never seen before. The poor Daenerys had found her own radiance to have dwindled, for her father had been waking her at first light for the past few days. Although, She would eventually find herself revived by her fathers elation. Never had she seen him smile so much before, such joy it had brought her to see her dearly beloved father contented for once. She had not realised how contagious his joy could be, even the Sea snake had found himself amused by his son. It may have been due to his relief of not having to see his son sulking about anymore.

Laenor had taken Daenerys down to the port, to show her the ancient ship that his father had taken after in name, the Sea Snake. 

Daenerys was careful as she wandered about the ship she heard so much of in the stories her father would tell, they had always left her stricken with awe.

Rhaenys looked up at her husband. Her face tense with apprehension for she had spent these past few days on tenterhooks. Rhaenyra’s infidelity to her son was clear to her, but why would Rhaenyra leave her husband and take off to Dragonstone alone, with her rogue uncle? She was not stupid, she knew what rumours this act may stir, yet she so willingly did it. 

Her worry was further fuelled by Laenors foreign behaviour, and the stay of his daughter, Daenerys. She had no ill will toward the credulous girl. Her worry prevented her from being thankful for the girls foolish adoration of the man who clearly was not her blood.

On the day of Rhaenyra’s leave to Dragonstone, Rhaenys had received word from a squire that Rhaenyra, Laenor and Daemon had been speaking together in secret, Rhaenys assumed it a scheme, but of what sorts she did not know.

“They’ve prolonged their stay,” she stated to her husband.

Corlys chuckled, unaware of the meaning beneath her statement “Spice towns annual fair comes on the morrow,” he excused “our son hasn’t attended the celebrations in a decade, I would believe him eager to share such a chance with his eldest daughter,” he told as he made his way to where they often sat together, he ignored the pointed look from his wife.

She remained bothered by how he still chose to remain oblivious to the truth, not even caring to address it within the confines of their private rooms.

“I believe Rhaenyra would care little of what Laenor would desire for her daughter,” she told “so little she wouldn’t be so willing to leave her here,” she glanced back down to her hands thoughtfully as she grew certain that something was awry “no… she sows away at a scheme, with Daemon offering her the thread.”

Corlys scoffed in disbelief, terribly shocked by his wife’s accusation “and you mean to say a girl of ten, is involved in such a scheme?”

She glared at him, for that is not what she had meant, but it was not a possibility she would set aside “of course not-.”

“That settles it then,” he dismissed, arising from his seat abruptly.

“Corlys!”

He turned away from his path to speak to her angrily “when was the last time you had seen our son filled with such joy? Hm?” He questioned rhetorically “gods- even on his wedding day the boy was a sorry sight, only days ago he was mourning his sister, and I’ve seen none stand at his side like his daughter,” he told, he sighed as he regained his composure, feeling the wary stares of his guards in the room “our son is happy because of her, and yet you are too blinded by your doubts to relish in this rare sight.”

Rhaenys sat quietly in her seat, ignoring the piercing stare her husband had been driving into her. He huffed before marching out of the Hall. 

Rhaenys stood from her seat and stepped towards the window, frowning with uncertainty as she watched Daenerys climb upon the shrouds of the sea snake, curiously tugging on the ropes attached to the ship's mast. Rhaenys’s brow knitted as her heart swelled with joy, she realised that her worry had never granted her a moment to truly relish in the sigh of her contented son, his grin would tremble as he hovered beneath the shrouds with his arms outstretched, fearful of his daughter collapsing to the ground.

The woman’s wary shield faltered as she began to battle with the smile tugging at her lips. Mayhaps the gods had been kind enough to grant her and her house a moment of serenity after the lashing storm that had rained down upon them.

Daenerys curiously tugged at the shrouds, both testing their strength and enjoying the fright on her fathers face.

He attempted to negotiate with her “you may doubt it but there’s much to do down here than up there!” He shouted.

She chuckled as she looked down before looking back up, shielding her eyes from the beaming sun, eying the main mast curiously, frowning curiously at the two that stood opposite sides of it “why are there three?” She asked.

The confused Laenor frowned at the question, Daenerys pointed to the three poles “oh, the masts?” He asked, earning a nod from the oblivious Dany “they keep the sails aloft, without them, you may as well swim across the narrow sea.”

“But why three?” She asked again.

“The bigger the ship the more wind it will need,” he told “three masts suffice, some said it is unnecessary to build such a big ship,” he smirked up at her with pride “but they’re still out at sea, loading their ships, while my father thrives in the fruits of his short labour.” 

Daenerys chuckled, cautiously climbing down “we will make a bigger ship!” She proclaimed.

He chuckled “will we now?” He asked, helping her down from the shrouds.

She nodded excitedly “it will be so big! That we will return from this voyage faster than grandsire!”

“Careful to not pry at his pride too much,” he warned jokingly, he reached for her hand as he reminded “we won’t need that big of a ship, we will explore, not take, we've enough right here.” He told.

She pouted before reluctantly agreeing “I suppose so, but!” She stepped in front of him “we must take a trinket from each place we go!” She decided. She pouted when she saw the solemn look that had settled upon her fathers face “it doesn’t have to be special, it can be small, even a leaf would suffice!” 

The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile, a sorrowful one.

Daenerys frowned, fearing she had upset her father with the suggestion “you know what, we will take nothing at all, I want for nothing other than to take across the sea with you, that memory is enough for me.”

His head began to shake, to what exactly, Daenerys did not know. He had not realised that his mind had set his will aside and taken grasp of his body, if he could not speak the truth, his mind would act it out. His heart began to beat loudly in his ears, reminding him to protect his little girl, ‘let these days with you remain an untainted memory’ his heart pleaded. 

‘End this now, she is hopeful, too hopeful, smite that hope, smite that hope while she has you to comfort her,’ his mind reasoned.

It pained Laenor to shield his sorrow, fighting to smile at her lovingly, not allowing a crack of sadness to peer through. Kneeling down he tucked a hair behind her ear “I think all three are wonderful,” his face turned playfully stern “but pick one! We would not wish for our ship to be sunk by your trinkets!”

A flash of a frown went across her face, for as good as he was at masking his downturned mouth with his dashing smile, his eyes always did well at telling on him. She smiled up at her father, “I won’t, I promise.”

He let out a dramatic sigh of relief “thank the gods,” He stood up, turning his back to her. Allowing his fear to break through his half worn mask a moment, his face painfully contorting into that of anguish. The sniffling Laenor beckoned his daughter “Now tell me, where are the ship's colours often kept?” He tested, a slight waved in his voice as he shook away his sorrow.

“The sails,” she confidently answered.

“And?”

She pondered for a moment “the quarterdeck!” She quickly answered.

“Who man’s the quarterdeck?” He asked pacing about the ship, he turned jovially to add “or woman’s?”

“The captain of course!” She answered as she giggled.

“Who climbs the shrouds to the main mast?” He questioned.

“The unfortunate navigator,” she answered jokingly.

“Why unfortunate?” He curiously asked.

“How many navigators make it down after climbing up?” She comically asked, earning a chuckle from her father.

“You would be surprised, enough jokes!” He chided “you’ve a voyage in a few years best you be prepared.”

She frowned at his wording but she went along.

“If there is a tear in the sails, who's responsible?” He questioned.

“The carpenter.”

“And who tells him that?” 

“The quartermaster.”

“Why not a captain-?”

“he’s too busy commanding and controlling, manoeuvring the ship, handling the cargo, stowing, keeping his men aloft with ambition and handling his precious ship,” she told rolling her eyes as she sardonically spoke, her voice rising with each word “he’s far too distracted with his duties to notice the massive tear on the most important part of his ship,” a huff of frustration left her as she kicked the wooden floor.

A look of surprise adorned his face as he turned to look at her. At first he thought she was frustrated by this test, but she was not one to shy away from flaunting her knowledge. 

He frowned thoughtfully before commenting “or she?”

His words earned him a pointed look from his cross daughter. Her lip twisted to the side as she realised the cause of her anger, she realised she had not been picturing a captain.

“Captains can be stubborn,” he told “their stubbornness almost blinding,” he leaned on the wooden railing of the ship beside his daughter.

“Ambition fuels stubbornness,” she whispered.

He pursed his lips and stroked her shoulder comfortingly “a captain blinded by his ambition, is not a good captain Dany,” he tilted his head as he reminded “I’ve taught you this.”

She reluctantly glanced up at him, hating how right he was. She warily asked “what if the quartermaster could have stopped the captain, hm?” she curiously asked “steer him away from his ambition guided path.”

He pondered a moment before plainly telling her “it is good that she hadn’t, cause if she had, she would’ve been made to walk the plank.” 

Her eyes widened with horror, bowing her head fearfully as she imagined it, would he have killed her had she intervened? Would she have become so worthless to him that he would’ve rid the world of the burden that she is? All because she disagreed with his actions. Her heart interrupted her mind's unreasonable ramblings ‘he would do no such thing, he loved you for a time, that is enough for him to not wish such a thing upon you little one.’

She chose her heart in this internal quarrel.  

“You must purge him from your mind Dany,” he told her, earning a look of uncertainty from his troubled daughter “think of him long enough, he will settle in your mind, rather comfortably,” he frowned as he saw the sheen of tears daring to slip from her eyes, he warned “hey, he is not worth a tear from those eyes.”

She sniffled “I’m trying!”

He frowned, pondering to himself a suitable distraction for his pestered daughter. His eyes had brightened once he had found the perfect one “how about this? There is to be a fair tomorrow at spice town, every year round it happens,” he told his intrigued daughter “the streets fill with music and laughter so loud you won’t be able to hear your own thoughts because of it, and with all the sweet vendors you could ask for!” He smiled at her as he saw a wide grin tug at her lips “a perfect distraction for the both of us,” he told “we’ve had our fair share of tribulations these past few days, we deserve a moment of good fun.”

Daenerys beamed with excitement at her father, nodding eagerly in agreement. Laenor sent her off to the castle, to prepare for dinner before bed, for they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow.

Laenor’s jovial demeanour snapped away as his eyes noticed the sullen face of Ser Qarl. He had not noticed that the man had been watching him and his daughter for so long. Qarl seemed eager, nodding towards the many people on the dock, Laenor frantically shook his head before moving with great haste towards High Tide.

The bustling streets of Spice town radiated with a joy that Kings Landing had envied. Not a note of sorrow flourished within their streets, children shrieked with delight at every curious performance, ducking their heads from the bellowing flames made by a proclaimed ‘dragon man’, the crowds bouncing with the beating drums and swaying with the flowing strums of a drunken bard kicked from the fifth tavern he had visited today. The town's port was overwhelmed by the visiting traders and voyagers.

Daenerys was torn on where to go first, the warm scent of fresh lemon cakes tickled her nose as she felt herself float to it, only for her eyes to glimmer with the burst of flame that came from a clustered crowd, before her feet could guide her that way she was knocked down by a vivacious dancer who had paid his surroundings no mind. Daenerys rubbed her bruised cheek while grinning at the sight.

“Dany!” Her father called out, encircled by four knights. He frowned worriedly as he saw her on the ground, but was assured she was not harmed upon seeing the marvelling smile on her lips. He heaved her up “how soon you have managed to forget your mother’s command,” he chided.

She shook her head “I haven’t forgotten, and I wasn’t wandering!” she defended “you’re just too slow!” 

He frowned, “you may continue at my pace, or you may return to your bedchambers and ready yourself to leave on the morrow.”

She huffed as she crossed her arms across her chest, feet itching to sprint off once again. Laenor wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulders, guiding her about “come, there’s much I wish to show you!”

Daenerys forgot her irritation as her father brought her forth towards one of the thespians. The crowd parted for the two and their guards, they were not unfamiliar with the Sea snake's son, and his daughter, although they did scratch their heads at the relation.

Two men had been tossing blazing sticks between themselves as though it was nothing, wide grins on their faces as they danced and jumped, leaving the crowd gasping with trepidation at each toss before they would erupt in applause and cheers. 

The shorter of the two men grabbed two sticks, one was alight while the other was not. He tossed them both into the air, the two striking one another before falling to the ground, the man had catched one while the other seemingly had gone off course. The other was coming dangerously close to the two nobles, prompting the four guards to snap forward in defence. Laenor was quick to pull his daughter back only for the taller man to catch the blazing stick in his teeth, prompting a look of awe from the startled Daenerys. He wiggled his brows at her before jumping back to his stage.

She laughed in disbelief “Did you see that!”

Laenor chuckled, still coming down from a peak of worry “I felt it, all the hairs on my face nearly burnt off.”

She scoffed before joking “you’ve never liked to grow your beard, I see that to have been of great benefit to you.”

He rolled his eyes, his nostrils flared as they were graced with a familiar scent. The sweet aroma of Honey fingers had called for him, he grasped his daughter’s hand “come on!”

He practically dragged her to the sweet stand where the vendor's eyes beamed as he saw the familiar shining jewels that Laenor would don “My Lord!” his brows arched as he saw the head of dark hair beside him, but his eyes had widened with wonder as he saw the purple anomaly her eyes were.

“Two servings of honey fingers,” he ordered excitedly, giving the uncertain Daenerys a reassuring look.

The man blinked away his stupor, blubbering in answer “y-y-y-yes m’lord- of course-,” the man frowned thinking his eyes had been toying with him, mayhaps he mistook her eyes for the gems on her fathers rings.

Laenor took the servings from the man, granting him a generous payment, same as the one he would grant him each year before stepping away. The man nearly tumbled over his stand to get a closer look of the uncommon trait Daenerys had possessed. He had only heard of her trait never had he or anyone else seen it.

“Take one,” he offered his unsure daughter, rolling his eyes at her reluctance “oh come on now, I know you are not one to make judgement so soon.”

She tentatively took the delicacy from his hands, her nose scrunching at how sticky it was. As she took a bite of it she hummed in delight at the sweet cinnamon taste.

“Delicious isn’t it?” Laenor asked as he continued to guide her about “Tis the one Tyroshy doing I am grateful for.”

Sun began to fall upon Driftmark, the warm glow cast a deep saturated hue upon the sky, almost a crimson red with yellow and blue dancing about the sky.

Daenerys had ventured off to the stands where foreign antiquities were sold, delicately carved bronze figures, rare stones so scarce in Westeros, and the finest cloths she had seen.

Laenor watched from afar indulging in his fifth honey finger. How contented he was to share his joys with his daughter, how thrilled he had been to see her as thrilled as he was about them. His troubles seemed so trivial that they had entirely slipped from his mind. Her smile, her joy, had been strong enough to stifle his own sorrows, he prayed that she would never lose a trait so rare in this world, rarer than those eyes of hers.

“M’ lord!” 

A familiar voice had called out, tearing through his frail sanctuary. He gulped and turned to face the man, finding it to be Ser Qarl once more. He would often find himself thrilled to see the dashing face of his partner, although today, he would find no pleasure in seeing his face.

Instead of the elation he would commonly feel, all he could feel was dread at the sight of the man. Knowing what his presence had meant.

Laenor glanced about, seeing the many people within the street.

Qarl marched forward, hand hovering over the hilt of his sword. 

“Have you no use of me lord?” Qarl recited the words he had been practising for days “have I grown too old for your tastes?”

The guards surrounding Daenerys grew alert of the confrontation. Their sudden alarm catches the attention of Daenerys, pulling her away from the market stand. She frowned with worry as she watched the confrontation from afar “father?”

“What are you doing here?” Laenor questioned fearfully, even though he knew the purpose of his presence.

“I’ve grown tired of being a toy for you to pick up whenever you wish, thrown to the dirt when you’re done with me!” Qarl yelled angrily, although his tone seemed terribly stale.

Laenor huffed, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, his eyes pleading for Qarl to not allow this confrontation to ensue now of all times. 

“Have you nothing to say, nothing at all?!” Qarl shouted, beginning to believe his role far too soon.

“Ser Qarl I command you! Leash your temperament or I will!” Laenor yelled out, fearing that Qarl had not understood him, he glanced for his guards to be at the ready. Giving them an affirming nod, as he turned around he was startled to find himself tumbling to the ground clenching his jaw. 

Qarl had landed a blunt blow to his jaw “let us not dither about m’lord, draw your sword, let us end this!”

Laenor huffed, eyes glaring at Qarl pointedly, screaming at the man that this was not time to have such a confrontation.

The guards rushed to Laenors aid, one guard stayed behind to keep a tight grasp of the twisting Daenerys, desperate to come to his aid as well. Crying out for Ser Qarl to stop.

The people grew outraged by the assault on their lord, crowding them as they rushed to Laenors aid. The guard who had kept grasp of Daenerys knew this was no safe place for the princess and heir to the Iron Throne, he had begun to haul the girl back to the safety of Driftmark. 

Daenerys thrashed in his grasp, commanding the man to let her go so she may help her father. Searching for his face in the crowd of rowdy spectators and enraged loyalists. 

“Let me go! I won’t leave without him, I won’t leave without my father!” she cried, clawing at the arms tightly locked around her waist.

The guard had not answered her demands, busy finding the safest route to Driftmark.

The worried Daenerys was now infuriated of how feeble her attempts of escape had been, the farther she had gotten, the more the crowd had grown to be an angry blur of pale blues and plain browns. 

Her eyes had widened with horror at the splash of a familiar colour within the blur of blue and brown. Perturbed by the sight of a colour that forever prompted dread within whatever unfortunate soul encountered it. She stilled in the knight's arms as she looked on with horror. Fearful of who that splash of red had belonged to.

Daenerys was brought to the hall of nine where her grandsire and grandmother had been. Their faces twisted with worry and confusion, where was their son? Daenerys was pale with terror, still as stone beside the gallant knight.

“What happened?” Corlys questioned the knight, eying Daenerys with worry.

The knight gave no clear answer, for he had not understood what had happened.

Rhaenys approached the frightened Daenerys cautiously. Kneeling before her and grasping her stiff shoulders “what happened, where's your father?” She asked softly. She had judged that the girl needed such tenderness, for her pale face and teary eyes would not have been caused by anything less than monstrous.

Daenerys' eyes fluttered as the sound of her grandmother's voice cut through the loud buzzing in her ears. Her lips parted for a moment before they fell shut. Her face contorted with fear as she recalled the sight once more. ‘Where is my father, where is he? He’s a warrior, a knight, he will prevail, he will cut through the crowd and rush back here I Know it, but Qarl, Qarl knows him, they’ve trained together, they are dear friends of one another, and none know a man’s weakness better than a friend.’

The words tumbled past her mouth as she frantically told “we were walking through the festival before Qarl appeared and attacked father!” Rhaenys shared a look of dread with her husband as she heard her words “and then- then a fight broke out and I tried to come to my fathers aid but I was taken away!”

The knight shuffled in his place as he felt the harsh gaze of Rhaenys “the remainder of the guard are with Ser Laenor, more than enough to provide him the right aid, my lord.” 

Corlys asked, gesturing around the room “look around you, is my son here?” The knight gulped, shaking his head, flinching as Corlys bellowed “then it was not enough!”

Daenerys flinched as he shouted, prompting Rhaenys to squeeze her shoulder in comfort “come let us go to your chambers, there’s been enough excitement for you today.” 

Rhaenys stood by the window, hiding her anxious face from Daenerys who was sitting at the vanity having her freshly washed hair brushed out into a frizzy mess. The girl was never one to hide her disdain for how her hair would be treated but today she had not found the will too, she could not have cared less. It had been hours since she had least seen her father, for he was yet to be found. Her grandmother was kind enough to distract her from her fears but she was not capable of hiding that glint of suspicion in her eye. Rhaenys may have laid her worry to rest but her guard never comes down. 

Daenerys' hair was raised up into a tight bun at the back of her head, the handmaiden stood up and bowed towards Rhaenys “the princess Daenerys is ready for bed, my lady.”

“Bed?” Daenerys asked.

Rhaenys sighed as she approached the girl “It is best you get some rest-.”

“I’m not tired, and I wish to wait for father to return,” Daenerys firmly interrupted. She gulped as she saw the stern look she had received from Rhaenys “please grandmother, I wish to be awake when he returns, and you can’t expect me to go to bed not knowing if he’s alright.”

Rhaenys rested her hand on Daenerys’s cheek “he would not want you to tire yourself.”

The displeased Daenerys frowned,  “I’ll know what my father wants, once it comes from his own lips.”

The remark shocked Rhaenys, recoiling her hand from the girl's cheek. A small smile of disbelief danced on her lips, how could she underestimate the daughter of the sharply tongued heir.

The doors burst open, and in came the dishevelled Laenor, eyes frantically searching for his daughter.

Daenerys glowed with relief as she shouted “father!”

Laenors distress eased at the sight of his daughter. His arms clutching her to his chest, breathing in her presence to dampen the blaze of fear within him. 

Laenor pulled away from her, holding her face in his hands “You're alright! We thought you’d been terribly hurt!” She quickly said “Ser Qarl was foolish for coming near you!”

“That he was,” Corlys said as he came into the room.

Rhaenys kissed her son's cheek as he arose, holding him in a tight embrace. Muttering a prayer of indebtedness to all the known gods for sparing her a terrible grief.

Corlys pursed his lips in discomfort as he felt the thick air of worry that had surrounded his wife disperse “it is best that you both stay within the castle til it is time for your departure, the guards have yet to bring Qarl before me.”

Laenor tensed at his fathers words, resting his hands upon his daughters shoulders who winced at the tight squeeze “we are departing for Dragonstone tomorrow,” he looked down at her granting her a tender smile “I believe we have overstayed our welcome.”

Corlys nodded “I will have a ship prepared,” he gestured for his wife to join him as he left.

Rhaenys rested her hand one last time on her son's cheek before leaving the room.

Laenor left to his chambers to clean himself up and dressed into a less distressed attire. He looked over himself in the mirror, making sure nothing was misplaced. His gaze arose to meet his own eyes, eyes filled with reluctance and regret. He rested his hands on the smooth wood of his vanity.

Heaving in a shallow breath he adjusted his posture and gave himself a reassuring glance before leaving the room. 

Daenerys had begun to settle into her covers, her fingers grazing over her watch as she pondered the days events and the disturbance they had caused. For a few days there was a reassuring calm, she was foolish to think it would go undisturbed. 

Her eyes flicked towards the door as she saw her father come into the room.

She was confused, for it was time for bed, and he was not in his night clothes.

“Father?” She spoke.

He frowned at her “what are you doing?” He asked, a frenzied grin on his face.

She frowned “is it not time to retire for the night?”

He scoffed “the night has yet to end Embar Anne! Get up, get up!” He urged pulling her from her bed and towards the fireplace where they would often sit at the end of the day.

“But father, I’m tired!” She whined.

He playfully rolled his eyes at her “ah yes, so eager to be rid of me so you may wander about the halls freely,” he told, smirking at the look of shock on her face “I know you have been wandering the castle Dany.”

She was quick to make her case “I only did it once!”

He raised his hand up to silence her “I won’t tell your mother,” he held out his fifth digit out to her “I promise.”

A sigh of relief escaped her as she feebly wrapped her own finger around his “but I am truly tired father, ‘twas not a calm day.”

“Surely you’re not too tired to spend time with me,” he replied with a playful glint in his eye.

Daenerys crossed her arms frowning at the excited Laenor “Years ago it would be you urging me off to bed not I.”

“How times have changed,” he sighed out, playing with the ends of his tunic as he reminisced.

The two sat together for hours, a tower of books slowly grew beside them. Laenor found himself reading through a book to interest Daenerys whenever he would accidentally retell her a story of his adventures unknowingly. 

She grew suspicious and worried as this mistake grew frequent, but she had eventually succumbed to it, for she was now occupied with keeping her eyes from rudely sliding shut. Whenever Laenor would see her eyes closed he would shake her awake, desperate to tell her more, for her to ask whatever question she wished without the limitations of respect expected towards a father.

She was quiet, only listening, it hurt him to not hear her curious questions, to not see her eyes widen with wander as he told her tales of his greatest ventures, of his time as a knight during the war at the stepstones, of the important values a voyager and captain must possess but mayhaps she was too tired to fathom his words, or how important they were to him.

He ran his fingers through her hair as she laid against his shoulder “I wanted to spend my life forever within the thrill of battle,” his soft spoke, a tight frown blemishing his brow as he stared at dimming glow of the fire “until you came, and it was a sudden pause.”

Her tired voice came from his side “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he dismissed, chuckling to himself. “I found the pause to be rather comfortable while it lasted,” he said, squeezing her slumped shoulder. He glanced down towards her “you know it is only a few years before you will be met by the same pause.”

Daenerys’s tired eyes flew open “what kind of pause?” she asked.

“Why, You will have your own family,” he explained, laughing at the look of dread on her face.

“Do you not think it too soon to discuss such a matter?” she suggested fiddling with her fingers.

“Tis not as bad as you think-.”

“It may not be for you, but for me it is,” she interrupted, moving away to the otherside of the couch “to trust someone like that, do you not think it dangerous at all?”

He pondered to himself for a moment “I think it rather romantic.”

The unamused Daenerys gave her father a blank expression “mm, sure… nothing more romantic than resting your trust in someone only to have them know the right place to drive their dusty blade.”

Laenor frowned “I had not known a girl of one and ten would be so seasoned in the field of Marriage and Romance.”

She tugged at her sleeves “Poems are rather useful in providing an insight.”

He scoffed as he came to the realisation “a rather one-eyed insight.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he credulously asked.

“Make fun of his… disfigurement, it's insensitive,” she reluctantly defended, grimacing at how wrong the word had sounded once it had left her mouth.

Laenor sighed, “Again you are defending him, you’ve no obligation to him, Daenerys.”

“I have an obligation of common courtesy, I refuse to speak ill of him,” she quickly excused.

Laenor hummed “courtesy or longing my dear?” he sardonically questioned.

She frowned in offence as she answered “Courtesy.”

He sighed “Daenerys, I had hoped you had forgotten about him.”

She rolled her eyes as she stared at the blazing flames in the fire pit “How can I if morning, noon and night I am reminded of him.”

He did not appreciate the attitude she had been giving him, but knew this was no easy thing to experience, such a stinging betrayal is difficult to forget.

“You are still young Embar anne, you will be graced with better faces,” he assured, playfully tilting his head at her as he teased “mayhaps even a great many handsome faces.”

Her face reddened at his words, hiding her face in her shoulder bashfully. Laenor was delighted to see her abashed expression.

“Are we done for the night?” she impatiently asked “I’m rather tired, and I’ve had enough talk of stupid boys.”

He winced at her words “Already, do forgive me for boring you already, i pray that the men you meet may interest you enough so that they may not have their pride wounded.”

She chuckled, shuffling off the seat and towards her bed. Laenor reached for her arm “are you sure you are tired, we’ve still hours to burn,” he asked, hopeful that she may stay awake a bit longer.

She gave him a tired smile “father it's late, and I am truly, truly, TRULY tired, can we not continue this tomorrow? We’ve a long flight to Dragonstone, we can talk all we wish then.”

“One more story,” he desperately  pleaded, holding her hands tightly in his own “please Dany.”

She pondered for a moment before half-heartedly succumbing to his wishes. He smiled in relief before resting her beside him and beginning to tell her a tale was sure she had not heard before.

“Do you know why the stepstones have been at war for so long?” he asked.

Daenerys frowned “this is not a story-.”

“Humour me,” he requested.

The tired girl sighed “The stepstones are key for trade across the narrow sea.”

“But what started the war?” he asked again.

She pondered to herself, what word would define the Triarchy’s actions? She asked herself. From the thousands of lessons she's had, she gathered one commonality between all of them: “Greed.” 

Laenor nodded before repeating “greed,” he began to run his fingers through her hair “how does one sate greeds void of a belly.”

“You can’t,” she interrupted.

“And that is how war begins,” he told “the battle went on and on and on, not one man remained king of the narrow sea for more than a few months,” his voice laced with frustration “my father refused to give up, saw those wastrels as too big a threat to the house he bled for,” he chuckled to himself “I’ll never forget the proud look on my fathers face as I sewed together the greatest strategies to end this war, a time when I was his equal, a time when he did not feel shame knowing that I was to succeed him,” he scoffed “now that I’m gone, look at them, a decade and they haven’t ended this stupid war,” He reached for his side, unhooking his sheathed dagger “this was the very dagger I had during my time fighting, as sharp as Valyrian steel.”

Her tired eyes skimmed over the body of the dagger, the worn silver lining that danced about the cyan grip, leading towards the silver seahorse wrapped around the head of the daggers hilt. 

“It’s very pretty…” she mumbled.

He hummed in agreement “my father had it made for me, one of his few acts of kindness towards me, aside from that its always been duty and legacy with him,” he tossed the dagger on the table beside him “promise me you won’t allow yourself to be consumed by the trivial matter of legacy.”

The dagger slid across the table and clattered to the ground, the least of his concerns as he shrugged.

She mumbled her promise to him as she nuzzled herself into his side.

“I pray the gods have mercy on you and end this war before the time comes that you ascend the iron throne,” he said, begging the gods to not bestow upon his daughter this eternal burden “what a headache it would be for you-.”

His breath hitched in his throat as he glanced down and saw her fast asleep, her arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly in her slumber. Muffled snores escaping her gaping mouth, her dark lashes kissing her red cheeks. 

Fear began to flood his chest as he whispered out to her “Dany?” he asked, hopeful for her answer “Daenerys… wake up my dear,” he called out again, his voice trembling with yearning, pleading that she wake ‘a few more minutes,’ he begged.

“Embar anne… my sea horse, my sea dragon, please wake up,” he begged, tears now slipping from his sorrowful eyes, whispering his daughter's name.

She remained still at his side, unaware of her crestfallen father crying over her.

He sniffled away his sorrow, for it was time, he was exhausted more than enough time. He stiffened his lip and shook away his grief. As he stood he was careful to not wake her, scooping her up into his arms and walking to her bed, laying her to rest for the night. He brushed away the hair from her face so it would not pester her as she slept. Tucking her in he knelt by her bed and stared at her face memorising every little detail, placing it as close as he could to his heart.

He rested a long kiss on her head, how he had regretted the gesture for he found it difficult to tear himself away. Prying his lips away from her head he whispered to her “may our paths cross again my sea dragon.”

His bent knees felt rigid, he could not move them, his heart would not let him. His mind frowned at the action, forcing a burst of will to flow through him. He shot up from the ground and stormed towards the door, his heart pleading that her voice would come and tell him to stay, to stay for a story, But the room was so painfully quiet, spare for the sound of his steps as he left. He strapped his sword to his side before leaving the room, his sweaty hand tightly gripping the hilt.

Shutting the door ever so quietly he sighed in relief, this may have been the hardest thing he has had to do, all that was left was see the rest of this through before it was too late.

As Laenor marched through the halls towards his chambers he felt the weight of uncertainty begin to ease from his shoulders.

“My lord,” came the voice of a young boy, halting Laenor in his steps.

He sighed before answering “yes?”

“There is someone waiting for you in the hall,” the young boy credulously told.

Laenor heaved in a deep breath “alright then, I will be right there.”

The empty halls carried the sounds of desperate cries “Help! Help! Guards!”

Daenerys flinched awake at the sound, the terror in the young boy's voice frightened her. Pulling back her covers she slipped her coat over her shoulders and peered out of the door, frowning as she saw the boy frantically running down the halls shouting for help.

She hesitantly stepped out of her room, filled with trepidation at what might have happened, what else could possibly happen on this day?

But curiosity gnawed away at her as she stared down the other side of the corridor. Hugging her coat closely around her she tiptoed down the halls and followed the sounds of clashing and scraping. She knew the sound had been coming from the hall of nine, but who the commotion was being caused by she did not know. 

Her brothers are gone, so she need not worry for them.

Aemond was not here, and he would be a fool to do anything stupid in his condition.

It was the dead of night, everyone should have been asleep.

A scream of horror cut through her thoughts as she neared the hall, the scream so shrill, so guttural that it froze her in her tracks. She had never heard anything like that before, she had heard screams of pain before, screams of sadness, screams of joy even, but this…

This sounded like agony.

As she drew closer the screaming turned to throaty wails of distress. She thought this horror was coming to an end, instead she was met with a rancid smell, one she would compare to that of a pig roast. She covered her nose as she came upon the stairs that descended to the hall. She treaded warily towards the hall, peering over the railing to see what was wrong.

Her eyes fell upon the back of a familiar figure, a man looking at the blazing hearth of the famed hall of nine, Lord Corlys’s prized chamber.

Following his gaze she stilled in the middle of the steps, rooted in her place as she stared at the charred figure in the hearth. She could see its twisted and charred arms, its fingers clawing at the air, as though its last actions were cursing the gods for the cruel fate they had bestowed. 

As she allowed her gaze to fall to the legs she frowned, the fabric of the breaches was familiar, She had seen it not that long ago. She looked back up towards who she assumed was the mans face, or the darkened void that should have been. His mouth was wide open, his moments of agony immortalised in his remains.

His remains, he was dead.

Dead.

Daenerys frowned as she tried to fathom the sight before her, a man burnt to death, and the culprit still standing there, admiring his work she had assumed. Her blank gaze fell upon him, she was not afraid of whatever harm would be done upon her by this cruel man, instead she wanted to see what the face of cruelty had looked like, so she may remember it later.

Her face contorted with horror as she was met with the familiar face of Qarl Correy, the man that only hours ago had assaulted her father, the man, that for years had been her fathers dearest friend. 

Qarls eyes widened with horror as he saw the little girl, she was not meant to be there. Before he could do anything about it he heard the sounds of clattering armour approaching the hall, he knew he had overstayed his welcome.

Daenerys’s gaze followed his figure as he bolted out of the hall, her eyes fell back to the charred figure. The crackle of the flames had sent a cold shiver through her swaying body. While the room seemed to spin, the figure remained still in its place. 

She shook her head ‘no… no?’ she thought to herself ‘no,’ she stated firmly ‘that is not him, my father is sound asleep in his chambers,’ she feebly assured herself ‘he is in his rooms and he is well, he will come here and take me away from this terrible sight, and tell me everything is alright, that I do not have to fear.’

As the seconds past the fear began to take grasp of her, the heavy weight of dread settling uncomfortably upon her chest ‘he is here, he is coming, he is not there, that is not him.’

She had not heard the doors burst open as two guards frantically scrambled inside. They shared a look of disbelief as they stood before the hearth. They tried to pull him out by his legs but his charred remains had welded to the wood beneath him. The two men each grabbed a spade and practically dug him out.

Rhaenys and Corlys stormed in, awakened by the ruckus in their hall, and word that their son had been attacked once again. 

Rhaenys’s lips parted as she watched them heave out the body of her son from the hearth. They could not even rest him on his back for he had already gone stiff with death. His hair burnt off, the skin on his face torn apart as it shrunk against the lashing heat, the sound of its sizzling churned the stomach of Rhaenys as she fell to her knees, catching a better look of her son's face. Nothing of him remained to her, not even his face for her to recognise, all that was left, to prove that he was without a doubt her son were his clothes and even they barely remained. 

Her mouth fell agape as she grasped at her son's scorched remains, and out came an ear-splitting scream of an anguish none could ever imagine, nor would they want to. Rhaenys has now outlived both of her remaining children, her only children, who could ever long for such an achievement, who would ever want such a thing?

Corlys, awakened from his stupor, reaching out to his grieving wife. She did not long for his comfort, swatting away his hands as she mourned alone. What did he have to grieve? The death of his remaining legitimate legacy?

Her cries echoed throughout the hall of treasures, the hall where Rhaenys’s greatest and last treasure died. 

Daenerys shattered, as it all came falling down upon her all at once, her father was dead, and she will be forever haunted by how he had died. 

Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, her lips downturned to an ugly frown of sorrow. Her head shaking in denial as she sunk down to the ground, wrapping her arm around her legs as she rocked back and forth, tugging at her ear as she waited for herself to wake from this dreadful dream. She could not be living this, this could not be real, this world cannot be so cruel to do this to her. She shuddered as the cold truth engulfed her trembling body.

Corlys yanked the guard at his side to stand before him as he spat in his face “How can you let this happen! IN MY FUCKING HALL!” he shouted, pushing the startled guard towards the heart. He looked at the faces of the other ashamed guards within the room “TELL ME-!” His face dropped at the sight of the rocking princess on the stairs “get her out of here…” he muttered pointing to her, but the guards remained rooted in place, Corlys bellowed “GET THE PRINCESS DAENERYS AWAY, AWAY FROM HERE I TELL YOU.”

One of the guards was eager to get away from the Sea Snakes wrath, grabbing the petrified girl's stiff arm and tearing her up from the ground, practically dragging her back to her chambers. Corlys shook his head in disbelief of what had happened, even though it stood- laid, burning, sizzling, hissing before him. Another child of his gone, because of his ambition, and how he hated that it took this long to prove the consequence of his desires. That this was the cost of all he thought he had desired.

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

The kitten-- Jareth x reader

Like a pouting child, the Goblin King sat on his throne. Outside, the thunder growled, the sky threatening to unleash his fury upon the inhabitants of the labyrinth. To drown all who stood within the storm's path! To diminish everything and everyone! 

Or at least, to make them feel as sour as he did.

His mood soured even more as he watched the source of his woe– a naughty kitten the color of ashes, chasing after a ribbon. Meanwhile, you, his love, his stars and moon entertained the damned horrid beast who knocked over his crystals and ran amuck! The monster who clawed his curtains and dipped her footprints into his ink, coating his desk in little paw prints. 

Really, he could handle that if you weren’t so busy cooing over the charming beastie. 

Finally, like the sun peeking through the clouds, you set your gaze on him. Smiling from your seat on the floor. He frowned. You were getting your pretty clothes dirty! 

“Jareth!” you called, waving him over, “Come play with me and the kitten!” 

He shifted, crossing one leg over the other, and the few goblins in the throne room watched, sensing the displeasure within their king. 

“Jareth!” You called again.

With a huff, he waved you off.

In response, your shoulders slumped, a frown forming on your lips, before you scowled, wagging a finger, “You better not be brooding!”

He sent you his own scowl in response. 

“That's the fifth time today!” You cried, shaking your head, before returning your attention to the kitten, “At least you don't brood!” 

“I heard that.”

 “Serves you right.” you put the ribbon aside now, offering her a finger to sniff, before she led your touch to underneath her chin, “he's no better than you! At least you purr, my sweet Eloise.”

“And that!” 

“And,” you continued, “At least you have cute little paws. What's he got? Hm? What does my little Jareth have?”

“Stop babying the kitten! And I'll tell you what I have, darling, class! At least I don't lick my ass in public–”

You turned to him, “So do you lick it in private then?”

Jareth shook like an overheated tea kettle as he glared at you. The splotching started at his neck, before slowly ascending, turning his cheeks and ears a bright, cherry red. In response, you snickered and grabbed the ribbon again. A smirk coated your lips as you swung it. Eloise scrunched herself into position, wiggling a bit before pouncing on her target. Or, at least, she tried to. Letting out a noise, she landed on her stomach, before determinedly chasing after the ribbon again. 

“Don't think I don’t hear you snickering over there.” He muttered, “honestly, how can you torture me so, dearest? Do you detest me?”

You continued playing with the kitten. The goblins watched, some fascinated, but others clearly disgusted. You couldn't ignore him! He was the Goblin King!

“Well?” he demanded.

You continued your fun.

“You're horrible!” He wailed, “Terrible! Atrocious! You're torturing me, darling! Tearing me apart, limb by limb!”

He now lay himself over the throne, his legs draped  over one arm. He threw a hand across his head, and the goblins around him chittered, clamoring to comfort him. To them, he looked like a martyr, or a sacrificial lamb being sacrificed to the gods. 

“What’s the matter, your majesty?” one asked. 

“Yeah, sire, what can we do?” 

Another held back sobs, “S-sire, what’s the matter?” 

“Yes! Whatever the matter, your majesty?” 

“Oh how you wound me my love!” Jareth pretended to close his eyes, only to look at you through little slits as he continued with his caterwauling, “Oh my love, how you torture me! How you pain me!”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics.

“It feels as if you have taken a knife and stabbed me, twisting it within my chest!” 

The goblins gasped, some now huddling around the throne while shedding tears, their poor lips warbling as they looked at their luxurious, glorious, king. 

“Oh, darling!” Jareth cried. 

Finally, you turned to him with a glare, “Yes dear?”

He glared back, sitting up, “Get away from that horrid creature and pay attention to me!” “I asked you to come and play with–” “And get my clothes dirty on that floor?!” 

You sighed softly, shaking your head. 

To think, the being who always thought of himself as a gothic byronic hero couldn’t get along with a cat. Yet, you figured it’d be lovely to get one– since he had the temperament of one, and you thought it’d be nice to see your gargoyle of a king play with a kitten. Said king didn’t even notice you frowning, or if he did, he was too caught up in the performance to comfort you. 

“How you must detest me! Torturing me with such ideas!” His voice was smooth and hazy like wine, and the goblins drank it in, “And you pain me, darling– scolding me whenever I scold that kitten.”

You glared at him, causing him to gasp, laying a hand upon his chest.

“What a horrid creature you are, precious!”

Now, the goblins glared at you. They were stupidly overprotective of him, and even worse, stupidly overindulgent. Perhaps, you should’ve indulged him more, and even went to him, and sat upon his lap, but you quite liked where you were. Gathering Eloise in your arms, you cradled her to your chest, gently kissing her forehead. She protested a moment, before settling into your arms. 

“We’ll get rid of that beast, your majesty!” a goblin bayed. 

The small crowd nodded. 

“And we’ll make that human pay!” another yowled. 

“Pay! Pay!” the goblins cheered, “Make the human pay for upsetting the king!” 

Outside, the once howling wind stilled. The thunder stopped, even the clouds froze. Jareth grew still now, his hands now clenching the sides of the throne. His jaw clenched, and he turned towards the goblin who tried to rally the crowd. Standing, he loomed over the tiny creature, and you couldn’t distinguish where his long, black cape ended, and where the darkness began. His features elongated, sprouting, sharpening– ears turning into sharp arrows that jutted from his wild mane of blond hair. 

“What did you say?” 

The sky outside broke, thunder cracking it in half, followed by a lighting flash that slashed the air. Eloise let out a whimper, burrowing into your neck, but you didn’t cower. Just like Jareth, you couldn’t help but love what you loved, and love it wholeheartedly. Though, unlike your darling, you weren’t loath to admit it. 

The goblin was pinned into place by the king’s dark, deep gaze, and the fool looked at you, but you simply turned away to coo at Eloise. The creature was at the king’s mercy,now. 

“B-but your majesty–”  the goblin squeaked out, shaking in fear.

“But? But what?” He asked.

Jareth didn’t need to yell– his voice was all encompassing, sticking like snowflakes onto frostbitten skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, but still, to spite him, you continued to pet the kitten. Someone was clearly jealous. 

“Y-you said– y-you–”

“I said? I said? You ought to focus on your own words, you spineless fool! You threatened my love. You were tempted to make my darling pay– for what? Hasn't my heart always been merciful to insignificant specks like you?”

His heels clacked against the chilled silence of the room as he descended, stopping in front of the small group. They looked towards you again. Jareth leaned down, grabbing the nearest one by the throat.

“Do not look at my love.” he seethed, “Look at your King. Look at me.” 

You sighed, “Jareth.”

He turned towards you, a sneer on his lips. You simply blinked at him. The poor goblin didn't know who to be more afraid of. The Goblin King, or You, the one who didn't, couldn't, and wouldn't back down from him.

“You’ve been glowering all day.” you said, “And specifically, you’ve been glowering at your love all day, along with our kitten.” 

His stiffness melted. He looked at you. 

“Our kitten?” he murmured, edges melting, eyes widening. 

“Our kitten,” you insisted, meeting his gaze. 

The goblin was dropped like an old doll, and he tilted his head, finally noticing the frown on your lips. 

“Darling,” he murmured, “Why on earth are you frowning?” “Do you want to get rid of Eloise?” 

He looked at you for a moment, eyes wide, and his gaze ventured towards the kitten who now looked at him in return.

“As much as I love her, I love you too,” you said, biting down your lip, “and I want you to be happy. Not to mope all day because of a kitten.” 

His heart squeezed at the sight of you. Misty eyed and so connected to the little black cloud in your arms. It’s why he loved you, really, because your love was all encompassing, because it ate him alive, and he was scared that if you loved anything else, he’d lose it. 

“Oh darling,” he murmured, before coming towards you, and dropping to his knees, cradling your face, “No. You love that funny thing. And..” 

“Yes?” He lowered his voice, “I have been a bit jealous.” 

“Of a kitten?”

His cheeks flared. He looked away. Outside, the rumbling lowered its volume, undecided. 

“Yes.”

“Jareth–”

“Please don't scold me.”

You sighed, “She's not going to replace you–”

“You did say that you'd take her over me.”

“That's true,” you said, “especially if you keep being jealous of a kitten! Or keep trying to push her away! She's our kitten, Jareth, but I wanted us to both love her, to take care of her.” 

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I wanted to share our love.” 

Jareth stared at you, lips parted, revealing his sharp teeth. They caused the goblins to shudder in horror, but you simply smiled at him, reveling in his surprise. Then, his cheeks turned a pale pink, and the goblins watched in a mixture of horror and awe as Goblin King melted before you, turning into a man who sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“I think she hates me,” he admitted.

“She doesn’t hate you. She just glares at you when you glare at her. It’s what cats do!” He pouted, “You’ve been neglecting me–” 

“She’s a kitten! You’re a man! I’m your lover! Or are you into incest?” 

He let out a disgusted noise, “Of course not!”

“Then I'm not going to baby you like I’m your mother, Jareth! I'll take care of you like a lover. And we'll take care of Eloise together! Now hold the kitten and do some magic and give her some treats.” 

“Am I doing the magic for you, or her?” 

“Both.” 

With that, he took the kitten into his arms, and she whined as she was separated from you. Eloise looked up at Jareth through narrowed, displeased eyes. Her tail swished angrily behind her. 

“Blink slowly at her.” you whispered, now scooting beside him, and leaning onto his shoulder. 

“What?” “Just do it.” 

He sighed, and did as he was told. 

The kitten froze, and you shifted Jareth’s arms, so she was cradled against his chest.. 

“Do it again.”

He did it again. 

This time, Eloise settled against him, still a bit miffed, but otherwise, doing alright. Grabbing his freehand, you stripped off his glove and guided his fingers to the spot behind her ears. A grin spread across your face as she began to close her eyes. 

“See?” you cooed, “You’re both exactly the same. Charming.” 

His lips curled, and his smile spread as you kissed his cheek, before settling back onto his shoulder. Outside, the thunder lessened to a purr, and Eloise joined the noise, closing her eyes in contentment. You poked his side. 

��Are you still jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? Of a kitten? That’s quite silly, darling.” 

You raised a brow, “You’re right. You’re lucky I like silly things, aren’t you?” 

“And you’re lucky I like silly things like you. Imagine babying a kitten.” 

“Imagine being jealous of one and wallowing in self pity.” 

He sent you a glare, making you giggle. 

Finally, he did sigh, “Will you ever forgive me for being so foolish?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and you smiled, “If you’ll never be so foolish again. Save your jealousy for more practical occasions. Although, you won’t need to worry about anyone taking me away from you. I have everything I have here.” 

You settled by his side, and he continued petting little Eloise, before kissing your forehead. Outside, the thunder finally faded, revealing the pale hazy blue of the sky. He sighed in content, and the residents of the labyrinth exhaled in relief, all except a group of goblins, who, with a snap of his fingers, were sent to live within the bog of stench. Honestly, their screams were music to his ears. 

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Thirty: Crossroads

I’m sure some of you have been waiting patiently for this. I hope I’ve done this chapter justice. Let me know what you think :)

As always, enjoy! 

AO3 Link because I always forget. 

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The sky blurry, a chaos of cloud. Overgrown grass is creeping through the pavement slabs, three blimps humming over the skyline. Playing cards rippling like kites in the wind. Hey? Can you hear me? Grass brushes my knees, the stems glittering with blood. Wet bone crunch beneath my feet. I think she might be dead. Have you even checked her pulse? The sky bleeds amber, now crimson. It wells from the horizon, light speckling the grass. Beads of rain under a blood sky. The moon has a headache. Careful with her. Just put her here. Clouds swell over concrete skyscrapers. The storm screams across the sun, shutters of thunder. What do we do now? Talk us through it. It hungers, bulges, breathes sparks into the city. The labyrinth unfurls once more. 

‘You’re awake.’ 

I opened my eyes, squinting under the patter of rain. It took a couple of seconds to work out where I was. I was still in Shibuya, the crossing just barely recognisable beneath the grass and foliage. Except, my body ached all over. My shin in particular was throbbing, and I didn’t dare move it. I was lying on the tarmac with my head resting against Chishiya’s leg. He was propped up against a car, now bleeding from a second bullet wound to the chest. 

‘What happened?’ I tried to ask, as a sharp pain reverberated through my lungs. There was a tight heaviness in my chest, and it was difficult to breathe.

‘Don’t talk. You’ll make it worse.’ 

Wincing, I cleared my throat and tried again. My voice was strained. ‘You’re…’ 

‘Ah, about that,’ Chishiya said. ‘Usagi appeared right after Niragi shot you. Naturally he tried to do the same to her.’

You took the bullet? 

No, that couldn’t be right. It was so unlike him. For as long as I had known him, I could count on one hand the number of times Chishiya had risked his life for another person. 

As if reading my thoughts, Chishiya explained, ‘I wanted to do something uncharacteristic. I guess I paid the ultimate price.’ 

‘But why?’ 

‘Kuzuryu was the King of Diamonds. At first, I thought he was trying to determine the value of a life. But it turned out he just couldn’t bring himself to decide how much a life is worth.’ Chishiya paused, as if he was still unsure of what had happened. ‘He sacrificed his own life because he couldn’t bring himself to kill me. Apparently it went against his ideals.’

I had known all along that Chishiya would be the one to clear the King of Diamonds - and likely the Jack too. But it didn’t surprise me to hear that the Beach’s very own second-in-command was also a civilian here in the Borderlands. Nothing surprised me anymore. Even if the King of Spades blimp suddenly appeared in Shibuya, it wouldn’t be unexpected.

‘I thought maybe I should try to do something different.’ Chishiya said. ‘Because of Kuzuryu and Arisu, their ideals. And you. I thought you were dead.’ 

Dead? Was I dead? 

I looked down, finally noticing the blood staining my shirt. With one hand, I slowly lifted the fabric, revealing the bullet hole between my ribs. A square of clear plastic - like the cover of a dressing - had been taped over it on three sides. Every time I inhaled, the plastic would stick to the wound, and whenever I exhaled, the free corner of the square lifted slightly. 

A one-way valve…

Now that I was aware of the sensation, I could feel the stickiness of tape on my back. There must have been another square of plastic there too. There was no way Chishiya could have treated me in his condition. He didn’t say anything, but I had a feeling it was Arisu and Usagi who patched me up while Chishiya talked them through the process. They must have raided a convenience store for dressings and tape. 

‘You’ve got a traumatic pneumothorax,’ Chishiya said. ‘After Niragi shot you, the bullet went straight through your lung. You’re lucky you’re alive, though you’re on thin ice right now. If you move too much, you’ll bleed more and the plastic will stick to your skin. And if those two don’t clear the Queen of Hearts soon, you’ll die without treatment.’ 

By ‘those two’,  he must have meant Arisu and Usagi. If what he said was correct, that meant every other game had been cleared and there was just the Queen of Hearts remaining. We were almost home, and this was just the final hurdle. Chishiya himself looked weary. His face was pallid and there were bags under his eyes. 

‘You’ll die too.’  

He hummed in agreement. ‘Looks like we’re in the same boat.’ 

I closed my eyes, feeling the cold rain against my skin. Although it couldn’t numb the pain in my fractured leg or the ache in my chest, the cool sensation was refreshing, and it helped to wash away the worries of this world. But as I lay there with my head against Chishiya’s leg, listening to his steady breathing, a thought struck me.

‘Kuina… where is she?’ 

‘Who knows? The last I heard she completed the Jack of Spades.’ 

So she’s alive. 

But alive or not, she wasn’t here. The last time I had seen her was right before the Jack of Hearts, when she had hugged me so tightly and demanded that Chishiya look after me. Was that really the last time we would see one another? There was no way I could reach her now. 

‘I never got to see her again.’ 

Kuina had been by my side no matter what hell this world threw at me. It broke my heart knowing that I might die before I ever saw her again. However, Chishiya didn’t seem as troubled as I was.

‘You will,’ he said simply, ‘when we get back.’ 

He sounded so sure of himself, but I just wasn’t convinced. ‘What if Usagi and Arisu… don’t finish their game?’ 

‘You have such unwavering faith in them,’ Chishiya said dryly.

‘They’re up against Mira,’ I told him. ‘She’s the Queen of Hearts.’ 

‘How did you find that out?’ 

‘From the King.’ 

There was a moment of pause. ‘So you were in the King of Hearts. That explains a lot.’ 

It didn’t explain anything. Unless Chishiya had been looking for me, or he’d heard differently from another player. 

Seeing my confusion, he added, ‘I waited at the furniture store.’ 

You waited for me…

The news felt like a punch to the gut. He must have been waiting after his games, having figured that I would come back eventually. And when I did return to the store, it was likely that I had just missed him. If only I had been there earlier, or if I’d never ventured into the King of Hearts game at all, we could have avoided all of this mess. 

But then I never would have met the King. 

‘Chishiya…’ I struggled to find the right words to explain everything I had learned about this world and the last. And when I spoke, I had to stop every few seconds just to breathe. ‘So many times my dad used to say that… he was in his right to command respect…  and that we had to respect him at all times…’ 

Chishiya scoffed. ‘Just like a tyrant.’ 

‘A lot like a tyrant… He would say the same thing over and over… but I don’t think he realised… the moment you command respect is the same moment that you lose it… I know that now.’ 

There was a silence, and I knew that Chishiya was listening to every word. 

‘I did the same thing as he did,’ I said. ‘I just expected you to stay by my side… and let the others deal with the games… I didn’t think about how you were feeling… And even when we joined the Jack of Hearts… I still expected you to stay with me and leave everything to everyone else—’ I coughed suddenly, and Chishiya warned me again to be careful. ‘I’m sorry… I realise now, communication works both ways… This whole time, I should have asked you what you wanted to do.’ 

Once again, he was silent. I could feel the tension between us, and wincing a little I angled my head back to look at him. He was staring at the ground, his expression empty. 

‘It’s okay if you don’t see yourself as having any value… or if you don’t have any will to live,’ I whispered. ‘Because I’ve got enough for the both of us.’ 

Despite the blood on our hands and the agony we were in, I knew I had to tell him how I felt. He could fight against it all he wanted, but he needed to know that I refused to let him self-destruct. And just as the rain cooled our skin and cleaned our wounds, the tension disappeared in an instant. 

‘I thought I would know,’ Chishiya said suddenly. ‘After completing the King of Diamonds, I thought I would understand the value of my life. I wondered why I’m even here in this world, what my purpose is, why I’m even surviving at all. But I just felt empty. I realised this whole time, I’ve just been an empty shell of a person.’ 

‘You’re not empty.’ 

‘Yes, I am. I once threw away a letter from a patient containing his dying wishes, just because I couldn’t be bothered giving it to his family.’ 

I didn’t know what to say. It was such an awful thing to reveal about himself, and so unnecessarily cruel at that. But that was the Chishiya from the past. Would he do the same thing now? Somehow, I didn’t think so.

‘Maybe you did… but you’re also the same person… who saved my life so many times… and you gave me those books to help me learn Japanese… you treated my arm in the pharmacy too…’ 

‘That was only because I wanted to use you.’

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But it was the start… of us.’ 

Chishiya didn’t reply. I felt the softness of his breathing and nothing more. He didn’t seem particularly annoyed, but I could sense that he was thinking deeply as he always did. I wondered if this was enough. If we died here in the rain, entangled with one another like this, would we have said enough to put all of our skeletons to rest? Or would there still be parts of ourselves left unburied?

And then Chishiya muttered something under his breath. ‘別の実現があった.’ I realised something else too. 

He shifted a little as he reached into his pocket. Then I felt his fingers around my wrist, and he pulled my hand up towards his lap. He fumbled a little, slipping something onto my finger - my ring. In awe, I held my hand up so that I could see it better. The bright green stone and the tiny silverwork sun glinted even in the grey daylight.  

You had it all along. 

And then I realised that something was amiss. ‘Chishiya… it’s on the wrong finger.’ 

The left ring finger is only for… 

I tried to wiggle it off so that I could put it on the right finger, only for Chishiya to stop me. 

‘Leave it.’

‘But, that means—’ 

‘I was thinking about what you said, before I left.’ His voice lowered and I could scarcely hear him over the rainfall. ‘I don’t just want to be near you.’

I stared at the ring on my finger until tears threatened to spill down my cheeks. The first time he gave this to me, we had been standing on the soft riverbank as the Beach burned behind us. He was so certain that it was simply a piece of metal. Proof and nothing more. 

It rained back then too. 

‘You don’t have to cry every time I give you something.’ 

I sniffled, wiping my face with my sleeve. ‘Yeah, well, I still hate you… Shuntarou.’ 

‘Ah, it seems I’ve finally been upgraded to first-name basis.’ He closed his eyes, sinking back against that car door. ‘It took you long enough.’

‘I didn’t know… which name you preferred,’ I protested. ‘In the past you would have killed me… for calling you by your first name.’ 

‘That’s a slight exaggeration.’

‘Anyway,’ I gestured to the ring. ‘I thought you didn’t care… about this stuff.’ 

‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘But you do.’ 

I smiled, glad that his eyes were shut and he couldn’t see my face at that moment. I was probably blushing with the embarrassment of how well he knew me. Especially the dream I had told him about all that time ago in the jewellery store. 

You remembered everything.

‘What will you do… after all this is over?’ I asked. 

‘You mean if we survive?’ He hummed, unfazed by the idea of our uncertain deaths. ‘I’m not sure. In the past I was never really living. I just existed and got by however I could.’ There was a brief hesitation. His eyes cracked open. ‘And then I met you.’

He didn’t explain what he meant by that statement, nor did he seem to want to. 

‘I imagine things will be different if I go back,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know what I’ll do yet.’ 

I could understand his hesitation. The normal world would take some getting used to, and after everything we had been through and everything we had seen, was it even possible to continue with our normal lives? Perhaps not. I couldn’t unsee the blood, the bodies draped and dangling. All I knew was that I needed find my brother and somehow sever ties with my father. It wasn’t something I was exactly looking forward to, but it had to be done. I had to be stronger now. 

And of course, I had to find Kuina in the real world too. Maybe after all of this, we could sit down and have a drink together. 

Time passed in silence, and although the sun was setting the Queen of Hearts blimp still lurked over the skyline. Part of me wondered whether Arisu and Usagi failed the game, but that way of thinking would get me nowhere. I had to have faith in them. They were our only hope now. 

Eventually the rain drizzled to a stop. Chishiya’s breathing was more haggard than before. His leg was cold beneath my head, and when I looked up at him his eyes were closed. If not for the rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought he was dead.

‘Shuntaro,’ I whispered, as a cough rattled my chest. I tasted blood on my tongue, and I knew that I was running out of time too. ‘Hang on a little longer.’ 

His hand brushed against my hair as he picked up a strand and played with the ends. ‘Worry more about your own injuries.’ 

‘I’m fine.’

‘I heard that cough. There’s no point in lying.’ 

‘Stop deflecting—’ 

A new voice interrupted me. It was a voice that I had heard so many times before, and if I was honest with myself, I had hoped never to hear it again. 

‘You two never shut up, you know that,’ 

Oh god no. 

‘Niragi?’ I tried to pinpoint where his voice was coming from. It sounded like he was somewhere behind Chishiya, perhaps near one of the other cars ‘How are you even alive? Why are you alive?’ 

Wherever he was, he scoffed. ‘Bitch. I could say the same thing about you.’ 

Really?

Niragi was unbelievable. Even if I couldn’t see him, his presence alone had ruined everything. ‘I should have strangled you… when I had the chance.’ 

‘I should have shot you in the fucking head. My mistake.’ 

Chishiya snickered, but it quickly turned into a cough. Beneath his wry expression, it was clear that his injuries were getting to him, although he would never admit to it. I felt awful using his leg as a pillow like this, but it would be far too painful to sit up. 

‘Try not to goad him on,’ he said. ‘If you move too much, your lung could rupture even further and fill with blood. If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to do anything for you.’  

‘Fine,’ I muttered. ‘I just wish he didn’t exist… He’s a waste of cells.’ 

‘Oi!’ The response was instant. ‘I heard that.’ 

I didn’t reward him with a response, and instead diverted my attention to the sunset. The sun was sinking slowly over the concrete buildings, staining the sky a warm pink and lilac. As the light faded, stars began to appear. I wanted to trace them with my fingertips, but I no longer had the energy. I could barely move my arms, and the pain in my leg and chest was quickly becoming unbearable. 

It would have been so easy, so gentle, to close my eyes and sink into sleep. In a world like this, sleep was a luxury — one I would never take for granted again. I only realised that I was slipping away when Chishiya’s voice roused me. 

‘Stay here.’  

His voice dragged me back from the darkness, back to this awful world. It took a conceited effort just to keep my eyes focused and avoid drifting away again. 

I’ll stay with you. 

It was only after an incredible length of time that a familiar screech of metal sounded in the distance. My eyes shot wide open.

I know that sound! 

The Queen of Hearts blimp exploded against the stars. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, because at that moment I knew we had won. 

‘Shuntaro?’ My voice was gravelly with blood. ‘They did it… We can go home now.’ 

Chishiya gave a distinct hum. ‘So they did.’ 

Somewhere in the dark, I heard Niragi complain. ‘Fucking finally.’ 

The moment the blimp crashed to the ground, fireworks in every colour lit up the night sky like chrysanthemums, bursting and fizzling into dust. Who had set them off if all the civilians were dead? It was one of the mysteries of this world. Either way, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at the sight. Beside me, Chishiya was lazily watching the fireworks with a satisfied smile.

A voice boomed across the city like an intercom. 

‘ALL SURVIVING PLAYERS WILL BE PRESENTED WITH TWO CHOICES. PLAYERS MUST NOW ALL DECIDE WHETHER TO ACCEPT PERMANENT RESIDENCY IN THIS COUNTRY, OR DECLINE IT.’ 

Two choices. To remain or to leave? The Queen of Diamonds had hinted as this very moment right before her life came to an end.

‘Like you, I was inquisitive for knowledge. I also wanted to find out more about this place, and so I chose to stay.’ 

My brother was waiting for me back in the real world. He could be hurt, or worse. However, here I could live life without restrictions or limits. I was free. 

But would I be living or surviving?

I looked back at Chishiya. He appeared uncertain, or at least unconvinced by the options. ‘What do you want to do?’ 

‘I was going to ask you the same thing,’ he said. ‘Either way, it doesn’t matter to me.’ 

I smiled, knowing deep down that even though I was free in this world, there was only one true choice for me. 

‘I’m declining it. 手にしない.’ 

Chishiya looked away, his face half-buried by darkness, half-lit by fireworks. I could see him thinking carefully, measuring his life. Finally, he spoke. 

‘I’ll decline it, I think.’ 

I reached back and slid my fingers around his. For once he didn’t fight me away or pull away. Instead, he turned to his right and spoke into the shadows. 

‘What do you think you’ll do?’ 

There was a pause, then Niragi replied with, ‘I don’t want it.’ 

After all that, you too…

It felt monumental. Everything we had fought for had come down to this very moment. I continued watching the fireworks light up the night sky, listening to Chishiya’s steady breathing, our cold fingers touching. 

One by one, I noticed the windows of the buildings becoming brighter. At first, it seemed like the light of the fireworks reflecting in the glass. But they continued to glow in the dark, the light from each window blurring into one another like torches. Suddenly, there was a tugging sensation, a drag of unreality pulling me away from this place.

It’s time…

And with that thought, the labyrinth erupted in a blinding white light. 

[nkirukaj]

Fawning for You (19)

Pairing: Alastor x Voe (Fem!OC)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst (& Humor!)

Word Count: 3.4K

19. Your Fault

Two months. Two long and harrowing months Voe was gone.

“That’s a bad way to go too,” Angel gossiped to Cherri “Childbirth? You know my sister almost died in childbirth, it was crazy!” he nodded to emphasize the story

What was wrong with them all? They had just moved on as if she had never existed. They spoke in their same crude manner, not even acknowledging her passing. Alastor stormed in and out of rooms in silence, his anger filling the room before he entered it. She was gone and had left him with…children. Two children. Alyson, with gorgeous brown eyes and skin sometimes with little radio dials as her pupils; and….Vernon. he didn’t know what to think of his supposed son. He kept staring at Alastor as if he wanted to tell him off or thought he was better than Alastor. He was sure Voe would agree with him on the boy’s impertinence. Usually, Alastor passed him off to Niffty, who was ecstatic to have a toy to play with finally. But he couldn’t get enough of Alyson, she was a gorgeous child, reminding him of Voe in every way, she was attached to his hip wherever he went and whatever he did. Fighting the urge to kill again was quite difficult with all the hotel patrons and residents acting as if his wife’s life was not important, but he was willing, for her.

Their laughter was thunderous on one occasion, and all of them gathered in the kitchen when Alastor arrived looking for Alyson, he could hear the sounds from up the stairs.

“These kids are classic!” Angel laughed

“Love this kid!” said Cherri Bomb

“They’re so cute I just can’t” Charlie added

Alastor stood outside the kitchen, indignant at the sound of their joy. he cleared his throat “So, I see you’re all enjoying my wife’s absence,”

They all turn to him and stare.

Charlie says “Oh hey Alastor! You gotta see this! The twins are doing this super cute thing! It’s-“

“No wait! I wanna say it! I found it out!” Angel interrupted “If you touch Vernie’s nose, Aly’s nose scrunches up!”

“Oh yes! It’s so funny!” Alastor places his hands together

They look around “Well, we thought it was cute,”

“So cute that my wife isn’t around so you’re replacing her with my daughter?! It’s sickening!” His grin is menacing

Angel turns to Cherri “What’s happening?”

She shrugs “I think he’s mad,”

Lucifer rolls his eyes “Oh here we go,”

“Tell me about it,” Vaggie agreed

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves!” he points to Lucifer “Especially you!”

Lucifer puts his hand on his chest in faux shock “Me?” 

Alastor stalks up to the King “If you hadn’t put the stupid idea in her head, this would’ve never happened!

Lucifer waves his hands in front of his face “Woah woah woah, I did not give her the idea. It was her idea,”

“That you decided to go along with! Both of you keeping this from me, and you encouraging it!”

“What? That was her idea too!”

“I bet you were glad to keep this from me. Wanted to see the Radio Demon look stupid!”

“Uh no! I was the one telling her to tell you, she said she didn’t want to!”

Alastor chuckles evilly “Sure you were,” 

Lucifer sighs “Okay Alastor, whatever,” He waves him off, walking away

“Hm! Going to abandon your daughter once more?” 

Lucifer turns back to him “No actually, I was going to my room. Are you abandoning your son like how your father did to you?”

“Oh shit!” Cherri covered her mouth

Alastor’s eyes turn black “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I read your file ‘Al’. That’s what he called you right? ‘Al’?”

Alastor looks furious but straightens up, knowing that he can’t fight Lucifer “I am going,” then goes over to the table and scoops up Alyson “She is the only one here worth my time,” and dissipates away

Vernie sits on the table, leaning forward to keep himself up on his hands, staring at the spot where his dad was just standing.

“Come on Sam,” Niffty picks him up and drags him off the table

Angel turns to Cherri “Is it just me or is that not his name?”

“Oh look at you!” Alastor tells Alyson as he teaches her hand games “So smart! And such a cutie pie!” Alyson smiles at her dad, putting her palm out for Alastor’s game. Vernie crawls into the bedroom and up to his sister and father. He hits Alastor on the knee, looking up at him with a big smile. “Can I help you?” Vernie just laughs and smiles bigger, trying to crawl onto his father’s lap. Alastor rolls his eyes and picks his son up, holding him as far away from him as he can “Niffty dear!” she does not come immediately “Niffty! Niffty!” She comes running around the corner

“Yes sir?”

“Do please come when I call you dear. Take this,” he gives her Vernie “And off with you,” he waves her off as Vernie reaches for him with a smile

“You got it,” she giggles, dragging him away “Let’s go, Sam!”

Alastor dusts his hands off and returns to Aly “Now where were we? Ah yes, we had gotten up to two,”

Lucifer found himself wandering over to the room where Voe’s body lay still and cold. They had decided not to move her when Carmilla had declared her dead. Alastor had entered a fit of screaming rage after Voe had finally closed her eyes, while Lucifer stood in silent shock and confusion. It had been his job to make sure that nothing went wrong, and Alastor made sure that he knew it. Screaming at the top of his lungs at the confused King, he didn’t even know what had happened. Had his blood caught up with her? Had she done the pentagram wrong? Was she too stressed? He knew that he had been warning her that she could die during this process, but he didn’t actually expect her to.

“I know that you’ll come back but I need to know, what happened?” he whispered to her lifeless body

In truth, he didn’t know if she would come back, they had used angelic steel on her, it was just to cut the umbilical cord, but he didn’t know how that affected sinners, since this was something that had never been done before. Maybe he just didn’t have the power to make it so both the children and the mother could live. Perhaps that was part of the punishment of being a sinner. Do you want kids? Here, do this and you’ll get them, but in return, you die permanently? He hated thinking that he might have been the cause of her death, maybe Alastor was correct, perhaps he should dissuaded her the kids would not exist, but she would still be here. 

She may have broken his heart, but Lucifer liked Voe, even if he knew he couldn’t ever have her, he enjoyed her company. She was such a dynamic person, and to see her, her body at least, lying that way, motionless and cold, was chilling. Alastor didn’t want him near this room, but he was the King of Hell, he did whatever the hell he wanted.

“Was it worth it?” He asked the body “I told you that you might die, and you did it anyway. You wanted this so badly!” Lucifer inhales deeply “Why did you need this so much? Why did you need his babies? Why did you need him?”

He stifles a sob “And now you're gone and nobody gets you.” He throws up his arms, kneels by the bed, and grabs her cold hand “You left them. Your babies, your husband, the Hotel. Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?”  he stifles a sob. “I admit it, you were right, I’m not a very good king. I couldn’t even save you from this. I don’t even know if you’ll come back,” The tears stream down his face and land on the bed “And I lied to you, I never stopped loving you,”

He choked down some air “I don’t know why but I just can’t,” he put her hand on his forehead “Please come back, please!” he begged her “I know I can’t be with you, but I need you to come back, come back to us, come back to me, I need you around,”

After his confession, he stares at her body, still motionless and limp as he drops her arm. Her lips slightly parted, he thinks about kissing them but decides against it. He didn’t want to be creepy, and he didn’t want to get his hopes up for the real thing instead. So he leaves, as stone-faced as he entered.

“Going somewhere?” Alastor asks, just outside the room Lucifer had left

Lucifer rolls his eyes, ignoring Alastor, continuing to walk 

“Although I’m more interested in the place that you left,” he shadows in front of Lucifer in the hall “What were you doing in that room?”

The King opens a portal to the parlor and steps through it, not wanting to deal with Alastor’s nonsense, but Alastor simply shadows and follows him there. “What? What would you like to hear? Do you want me to tell you that I was fucking your wife’s dead body? I mean, I wasn’t but, is that what you want to hear?”

“I want you to stay away from my wife,” Alastor squints

Lucifer sighs “Are we still doing this? She is literally dead,”

“And yet you still find a way to be around her!”

“Since you care so much, why was I able to get in there in the first place?”

“Most likely because you’re a sneaky little bastard,”

The King widens his eyes “Oh I’m the bastard?’

“Get fucked,”

“I would! If you weren’t in the way!”

“Really classy, this is our King everyone,”

He crosses his arms “And your wife probably wishes she’d chosen me,”

A loud static is heard emanating from the Radio Demon, his eyes glow and his teeth are bared. He is smiling of course, but he is not happy.

“It’s all your fault!”

Lucifer is aghast “My fault? How about your fault for stressing her out!”

“You keeping it a secret stressed her out!”

“For the last time, that was her idea! And you not trusting her was not helping!”

“And as the leader, you just listen to everyone else? Excellent Kingship!” he claps sarcastically

Lucifer grits his sharp teeth “I was helping out a friend!”

“Right, by leading her to her death? Common friendship activity!”

“I warned her that she could die and she wanted to do it anyway!

“So again, you allowed your ‘friend’ to do something potentially dangerous. No wonder your wife is still with you- Oh wait!” He grins down at the King

Charlie holds her ponytail, hearing everything they’ve said “You guys, can we maybe not argue? At least not in the parlor?”

“I don’t want to hear anything from you either! You with your silly redemption project having her every which way, making her think she could somehow be better!” 

“Do NOT speak to my daughter that way!” Lucifer’s eyes turn red

Alastor turns back to the King “You! Your ‘concern’ for my wife is laughable. What’s this really about hmm?”

“It’s about you not deserving her. I cannot believe she married you. You’re a terrible husband and a useless fucking father. You are just…awful!”

Alastor smirks “Well I am in Hell for a reason,”

“No, it’s not cute or funny. Voe needs to know what kind of person you are and not who you pretend to be!”

Alastor rolls up his sleeves “I don’t pretend to be anything. I am who I am, and she knows that. The fact that you’ve convinced yourself that there’s some secret hidden layer of me that you believe she’s not aware of is comical. You think she only chose me because she doesn’t know me when the truth is,” He leans down to be at eye level with Lucifer “She chose me because she does,”

Lucifer shakes his head “No no no!”

“Yes indeed,” he grins evilly “Perhaps there are some parts of her that you are overlooking yourself because she and I are not that different. So if you hate me, why do you love her?”

Lucifer doesn’t know how to answer that question, so he opens a portal to whoever knows where and steps through it.

“Come on Sam!” Niffty calls after Vernie as Lucifer walks by later

He kneels “Why do you keep calling him Sam?”

“That’s his name!”

“No, it’s not,”

She waves him off “Whatever!”

“Did his father not tell you his name?”

“He doesn’t call him by his name. He just says ‘Hey you’ all grumpy like, ha ha!” She goes and starts dragging the baby, which Lucifer promptly scoops up

“His name is Vernon,” he tells her while holding the baby. He looks into Vernon’s eyes and sees so much of Alastor, but the spots remind him of Voe “That’s what his mom named him,”

Niffty crosses her arms “Pssh, he doesn’t even have a mom anymore,”

Lucifer bounces Vernie on his hip, smiling while looking into his eyes, how could this have come from Alastor’s blood? He thought until he used his claws to scratch Lucifer’s face and then smiled about it. 

Oh, that’s how.

Lucifer took it upon himself to care for Vernie, playing with him and treating him as though he were his own son. They sit in the parlor playing.

“Hiya, how are you doing? How’s your day?” 

Vernie leans forward and grabs onto his nostrils, smiling all the while.

“Oh, this is so funny for you isn’t it?”

Vernie claps his hands and laughs, flapping his hands happily. He grabs Vernie’s nose.

“Well I’ve got your nose!” he tells him, Vernie slaps his nose and whimpers in worry “Okay! Here!” he pretends to give the nose back. Vernie curls up his lip.

“What? What? Did I do something wrong?” he asks the baby “You don’t want it? FIne I’ll keep it,” he pretends to take his nose again, and Vernie reaches out for it, almost falling over.

“Sam!” Niffty called “There’s my baby!”

“His name is not Sam!” Lucifer corrects her

“But Alastor said it was okay! And I wanted to give him a surprise when he woke up from his nap!” She picks up Vernie and drags him to Voe’s bedroom, where Alastor lies with his daughter, both of them sleeping. She places Vernie in between the two of them, who climbs up onto his father’s chest, snuggling between his father and his sister. 

Alastor wakes from the sudden intrusion, seeing Vernion on the bed between him and Alyson. Vernie looks up at his father and smiles

“Niffty! Niffty!” she does not respond so, he picks him up like he’s something that belongs in the garbage and brings him downstairs “Niffty!”

“You woke up from your nap!” She answers from behind the bar with Husk

“You were meant to be keeping him, why was he in the bed?”

She sits on the counter “I put him there. I thought it would be cute for the whole family to nap together!” She laughs

“It’s not!” he yells at her, Niffty’s smile drops and so does Husker’s jaw “You do what I tell you, not what you want! Are we clear?”

Niffty’s eye teared up at Alastor’s volume. “Whoa Boss, that’s not cool,”

“Was I speaking to you Husker? I do not believe I was!”

“Why you yellin’ at Niffty?” Angel came up from behind him

Alastor puts Vernie on the floor “I don’t have to tell you anything!” Vernie crawls to Alastor’s feet, he looks down at the boy “Hmm,”

Lucifer steps in “What is your problem?” He picks up Alastor’s son off of the floor “Now you’re yelling at the housekeeper? I mean seriously, you have completely lost it these past few months,”

“Mind your business, I own Niffty, therefore I can do whatever I like,”

“And why does it bother you that your son is in the bed with you?”

“Probably because I told Niffty to do a job and she didn’t do it,”

Lucifer shakes his head “Let’s get to the bottom of this, for some reason, you hate this little boy” He shakes Vernie’s tiny had

Alastor rolls his eyes “For goodness sake!”

“No, why do you never interact with your son?” “The same reason you didn’t interact with your daughter!”

Lucifer tilts his head “Depression?”

“Enough of the depression nonsense. There was nothing wrong with you, you just didn’t want to deal with your kid,”

“That’s where you’re wrong snobface. Charlie is the light of my life. Depression is real and it is serious and you do not have it!”

“Mhmm, are you done?”

“No! Take care of your kid!”

“If you care so much you take care of him!”

“I am! Because you’re not, and you’re his father!”

“Lucifer, why don’t you start worrying about being a good ruler and stop worrying about my parenting skills,”

Lucifer is appalled by Alastor’s behavior “Like father, like son huh?”

Alastor gives a fake chuckle “Eat shit,”

“You eat shit, what kind of man has a bone to pick with a baby?”

“I’m not picking anything with him, that’s why I give him to Niffty,”

“You know you’re an awful father,”

“And you’re an awful husband, no wonder you’re wife didn’t want to be with you,”

He steps closer “You think this what Voe would’ve wanted?”

“We don’t know what she would’ve wanted because you killed her,”

“I killed her?”

“Yes, you did,”

“You’re honestly ridiculous,”

Alastor nods “Mhmm, you’re probably glad she’s gone because now you don’t have to fight the urge to fuck her. Unless you fuck her dead body,”

“What? No!”

“Sure Lucifer,”

“This isn’t about me, this is about the innocent baby that you won’t even give yourself a chance to love!”

“Sure Lucifer, keep changing the subject,”

“That was the subject from the start!”

“Mhmm”

“Uhh guys,” Vaggie calls from upstairs “Sorry to break up this dick fight (not really), but where’s Voe’s body?”

Both men look up at her on the stairway “What?” Alastor snaps

“Her body, it’s not here,”

They look far and wide for the BIllboard Doe’s body but can’t find it anywhere. Alastor goes to wake up Aly and bring her to his radio station, the stress has overwhelmed him. He thought that perhaps a nice broadcast would calm him down, however, he found that he had no signal. No matter how he tried, it would not work. 

“What in Hell is going on?”

He noticed his little Alyson up against the window, slapping her little hands up against it “What is it? What do you see?” she tapped the window harder “No no no, I may be impenetrable, but these windows aren’t,” he laughs and picks her up, pulling her to his cheek “What is it, sweetheart?” Aly just reached out for window once more.

Alastor looks out the window and sees nothing, but when he stands still he can hear something on top of his radio station. He puts Aly down on the opposite side of the station and opens the window, leaning out as far as possible. When he looks up he can see a lump, a person sitting on the tip top of his radio antenna, his antlers grew along with his rage. Who would dare disrupt his broadcast? He almost climbed out to give them a piece of his mind, when large wings spread and they jumped, gliding down and coming directly toward him. Alastor retreats inside the window and grabs his daughter as the stranger flies in through the window. They’re wearing all black as they stand directly in front of them. Alastor steps forward before the demon sheaths their dragon wings, before he can react, they open their gorgeous plump lips and speak.

“Well hello handsome,” Voe smirks at her husband

[jessicas-pi]

REBELS BUT MAKE IT 1900S PLEASE

Also Paint Bombs, Pixie Cuts, and Elopement!

eeeheheheee~~~

SOOO, as you probably guessed, Rebels but make it 1900s is my Currently Untitled Kanera The Shuttle AU! Here, have a scene from Kanan and Hera's second meeting!

---

She stopped on the overgrown pathway, the wind lashing her hair into her face as she stared upwards at the gray sky. Sabine leaned against Hera with a sad sigh, and Hera put her hand on the child’s shoulder.

“I wish you could fix it here, too,” she mourned, and Hera gave her a warning squeeze—the groundskeeper was still right there.

The rumble of thunder interrupted the stillness of the moment, and Hera realized with foreboding that the sky’s grayness should have been a warning to her.

“It’s going to rain,” she observed. “We ought to go back.”

“Nonsense,” said the groundskeeper. “It’s six miles. You’ll never make it back before the storm comes. You must step inside the house and wait it out.”

Hera was taken aback at his boldness. “We couldn’t! Not without an invitation. That would be an imposition on the Earl.”

The man started to speak, but hesitated, started again, and stopped with a sigh.

“I… suppose… I should have told you before.” 

He bowed his head with a rueful smile. 

“Kanan Jarrus, fifteenth Earl of Shatterpoint, at your service, Miss Syndulla.”

---

AAAND, something from Paint Bombs, Pixie Cuts, and Elopement!!

---

Sabine grinned. “Well, at least you don’t have an overbearing mother breathing down your neck every time you so much as look at a man who’s not from a Mandalorian clan. She made a list of possible husbands for me to choose from.”

“All stuffy, boring heirs?” Ezra asked, ignoring the twisting in his stomach at the reminder that—someday—she would get married, and nothing would be the same between them when that happened.

“Yeah.” She huffed. “I didn’t realize until Mother told me this winter just how tense things have been getting. There’s a real chance of war now, and we do need alliances. I’m not arguing with that! But why couldn’t it at least be someone I like? Someone like Beni; I don’t mind him! Or Kieran! Gods and Kings, even Hadrian might not make me unhappy. But… Dieter? Carthage? Oh, Forces take me now.”

“I guess I understand the politics of it all,” he said, “but there has to be a better way than making you marry someone you don’t like.”

She scowled viciously. “I could list on one hand the Mandalorian men my age that I can tolerate. How am I supposed to find one that I won’t hate being married to, and that Mother thinks is important enough?”

Ezra yawned, leaned back, folded his hands behind his head casually, and delivered the joke with a perfectly straight face. “I’m important. You might as well marry me.”

Sabine stared at him in shock, but a second later a smile dashed across her face, and she narrowed her eyes conspiratorially.

“Mother would never consent. We would have to elope.”

“Elope?” He tried not to grin as he played along. “That sounds exciting.”

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Thinkin’ bout how the Horror and the Wild (by the Amazing Devil) fits desertduo and treebark in the lead up to the siege of dogwarts, as if the two pairs were talking about each other as well as their opponents

“You were raised by wolves and voices / Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed / They say it all comes down to you”, as Martyn watches his king make the final preparations, knowing that Ren will be the turning point in the coming battle

“You’re the daughter of silent watching stones / You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments / In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more”, as Scar watches Grian prepare for the inevitable, staying by his side despite the lack of life-debt

“You are the space that’s in between every page, every chord, and every screen / You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words I promise I don’t mean” Both members of both pairs thinking about their partners: Ren and Martyn for the first line, and Grian and Scar for the second

“We’re drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking / They thought us blind, we were just blinking”, as both groups hype each other up for the fight

“All the stones and kings of old, will hear us screaming at the cold”, desertduo’s declaration that they’ll fight the Red Winter in view of anyone and everyone

“Remember me I ask, remember me I sing / Give me back my heart you wingless thing”, Ren and Martyn vow to think of each other in their final moments of peace, while Grian begs to no-one for Scar to finally let him go

“Think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every time / You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me, old man, I am the wild”, the pairs clash in battle, as all are shouting the words to their opponents as much as to their allies

“You are the son of every dressing up box / And I am Time itself, I slow to let you play / I steal the hours and turn the night into day”, a flashback to Grian’s attempts to fortify Monopoly Mountain as Scar ‘plays’ about with reputation points and other people’s armor

“Day by day, oh lord, three things I pray / That I might understand as best I can / How bold I was, could be, will be, still am, by god still am” , a flashback to when Martyn killed Ren with the Red Winter Axe, as the former hesitates before ultimately doing the deed

“Fret not, dear heart, let not them hear / The mutterings of all your fears, the flutterings of all your wings”, rapid fire flashbacks as both pairs watch their allies die around them

“Welcome to the storm, I am thunder” shouted by Scar and then Grian

“Welcome to my table, bring your hunger” shouted by Ren and then Martyn

“Think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every time / You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me, old man, I am the wild”, similar sequence to before, only Ren and Martyn are clearly loosing

“Remember me, remember me, remember me, remember me / Remember me I ask, remember me I sing”, a slow sequence as Ren and Martyn realize they are going to loose, and silently agree to go down with one hell of a fight

“Think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every time / You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me, old man, I am the / Think of all the horrors that I promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every time / You passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me, old man, old man, old man I am the” final fight sequence as Ren and then Martyn fall, ending with Grian and Scar looking at each other over their fallen enemies, before a flash of their own broken bodies in the desert finishes it

Oh goodness looking at it now this reads like a written out animatic

Uh

That was not my intention but what’s done is done, I suppose

Have fun with this!

[minti-tales]

Vierapril '24 - Day 1: Regal

More dramatics with the Ancients.

Endwalker spoilers ahoy.

King Leonides clung to a rock as horrid winds blew, and rain poured down upon his wizened head. His royal robes, once bright purples and golds, were splatted with mud and muck from days of travel. Even his beard, his beautiful beard of hair as bright as fresh-fallen snow, was but matted grey slush.

Ah! To be reduced to a common beggar, to wander and wither away! The barbarity of it all!

"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!" The beggar-king howled towards the sky, shaking his fists in righteous anger.

"Rage, blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks. You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires, vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, singe my white head.

And thou, all-shaking thunder, strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world. Crack Natures' moulds, all brotherhood spill at once, that makes ingrateful man!" Leonides frowned, rose to his feet, and raised a hand into the air. With a sharp snap of fingers and thumb, the world suddenly melted around him, leaving only himself, and two masked and robed figures, on a circular marble dais. The wind - the true wind of Elpis - brushed past his chin, sending his "beard" fluttering off towards a patch of perpetually blooming flowers.

"Why did you stop? That was excellent so far, excellent." One of the masked figures, a tall man with dark black hair and striking green eyes, clapped his hands and smiled pleasantly. "I could just *see* you falling into the pits of despair. Couldn't you, Hythlodaeus?"

The other figure, made up to look like King Leonides' long-suffering court fool, grinned from beneath the heavy dabs of powder on his face. "As if our dear Emet-Selch needed any help taking the stage. I'd take my hat off for you, but I fear that would break the spell Dionysos has weaved for us thus far." He pointed towards his foppish silk hat and soiled peasant's clothes, and grinned even more. "Perhaps you take offense at being called 'nuncle', in the next line? I am the King's Fool, after all. It's my purpose to be your advisor, your friend. Even in dark moments as these, betrayed by your daughters and your kingdom."

Having shed the rest of his costume, Emet-Selch moved with effortless grace towards the rim of the dais, crossed his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes. "What a poor excuse of a king." he said, after a time. "A true king would never let himself fall to such lows. Wallowing in the dirt, crying at the winds." Turning to Dionysos, he continued, his anger echoed by the stage's acoustics. "I shudder to think if you were inspired by the world below. Is this what you see in it? Betrayal? Loss? Madness?" A step closer. "What we have created - what we have fashioned ever so carefully - is nothing less than perfect. So, with that in mind, I want this rewritten. Understand, this 'play' of yours will reflect what we've worked for. Not some dark fantasy you've cobbled together." Leonides' robes were thrown unceremoniously at Dionysos's feet.

Dionysos could only look on in shock as Emet stormed off into the night, bolts of lightning sent streaking across the night sky, in his wake. Shortly after, fat drops of rain loosed themselves from the fluffy clouds above, threatening to wash the whole production away. I struck a nerve, I take it, he thought.

It took a moment to kneel down and pick up the "king's" robes, to cradle them in the ancient's arms like a mother with her babe. Fine fabric like this shouldn't be left to the mercies of the evening; Phoenix had done too good a job willing the clothes into being. The dirt and muck were but illusions, of course. Is this what I should be doing as Azem, writing about the world as it is? Is that not allowed anymore?

A kindly voice came from behind, and a hand gently placed on Dionysos' shoulder. "You must forgive Emet-Selch. He's still suffering from the effects of the memory loss we experienced. I know it weighs heavily on him-"

"-as it does on all of us." Dionysos groaned and pressed the robes up to his face. "Hermes and his experiments." It felt oddly comforting to rub sopping wet cloth on his face. "Perhaps Hephastus would be more open to my mummery. I'm sure I could find a place for his child, too. What was their name? Damned if I've forgotten."

Of the Muses who flocked to Dionysos, who eternally demanded his attention, there were a few who gave him the comfort and kindness he needed. Calliope (sweet, hopeless Calliope), Ajax (strong, stoic Ajax), and, unofficially, Hythlodaeus. Granted, he wasn't around nearly enough to be called a Muse, but the love was there, regardless. A good love. Agape. The love that could keep a rainy night from not being as bad as it could be.

He was close by, wasn't he. Embracing a beleaguered playwright, putting forehead to forehead. Holding Dionysos just the way he liked it.

"My old friend," Hythlodaeus whispered. " 'Court holy water in a dry house is better than this rain water out o' door. Good brother, in, and ask thy friend's blessing. Here's a night pities nether wise men nor fools.'"

"That's not how the line goes," Dionysos whispered back.

"I'd take the hint if I'd your mind."

"I will."

~~~~~~~~

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

the best of us can find happiness in misery

tw for panic attacks

It made sense to stop. The Storm Spire was already on the way to the Starscraper, and having seen how easily letters to the queen could be intercepted, Rayla and Callum decided to inform her of their mission themselves. The Dragon Queen would probably have the most information out of anyone on Star Magic, and it was information they needed.

Zym bounded up on them when they walked into the heart of the Storm Spire, the place Zubeia had laid asleep in grief for nearly ten years before Zym had been returned home. They’d been here just a month or so ago, but it was much more lush and green than the last time, and especially odd given that autumn was coming and greenery was beginning to die. When Callum had pointed it out, Zubeia genuinely hadn’t known, though the magnificent dragon had shifted uncomfortably, like there was something she wasn’t telling them. Rayla knew how that looked all too well.

“It’s getting late,” she said, nodding them toward the door. “Why don’t you two spend the night, get a warm meal in and some good rest before the rest of your journey in the morning?”

Rayla glanced to Callum, already opening her mouth to accept the offer. She always got more energetic with dusk, the moonlight seeping into her veins and making her hyper; the full moon was nearing, too, adding to the hyperactivity. But Callum was an early bird, and he was beginning to droop with exhaustion.

He shook his head. “That’s okay. We should really keep time– the sooner we get there, the sooner we get back and all of this is over.”

“Callum,” Rayla groaned. “You’re tired. My parents can wait a moment.”

“I agree,” Zubeia said with a nod. “And insist.”

Callum smiled wryly. “Pulling rank, Your Majesty?”

She laughed, a sound like thunder. “That I am. Zym, would you inform King Ezran of the plan?”

Zym yapped, a spark traveling along his body.

She rose and shook out her wings, stretching them in the confined space. “It’s time for my evening flight to stretch my wings and scout for any danger. You two will be alright?”

“For sure,” Callum promised. “And Zym can show us around. Right, buddy?”

In response, Zym tackled him to the ground, Ibis’s staff falling a few feet away as Callum laughed, petting the dragon.

Rayla crouched beside the heap as Zubeia took off with a chuckle, scratching Zym under the chin. So much had changed, but they were still a family. That was nice, something to fall back on and love.

“Don’t electrocute and kill him,” she implored the dragon as faux-sternly as she could manage, nearly toppling over, too, when Zym turned to lick her face.

“I’m a Sky Mage; I’ll be fine,” Callum said, pulling him off her. “You, on the other hand…”

She swatted his shoulder. “Rude.” Rayla stepped over to grab his staff off the ground, handing it to him and offering a hand up, one he accepted. And if she didn’t pull away, staying in his grasp for longer than necessary, well… that was her business, thanks very much.

“We can play after he’s eaten,” Rayla told Zym, ushering the High Mage out of the room. “Even big-name mages need their beauty sleep.”

“I’m already beautiful,” Callum pouted, though he smiled gratefully.

“Yes, and you’ll be even prettier when you’re well rested.”

Hiking through the treasury on their way up, Rayla felt him playfully flick her shoulder. “I’m irresistible, and you know it.”

Rayla turned around, a “Why don’t you do something about it, then?” that two years go, would have led to something inappropriate for baby dragon eyes on the tip of her tongue when–

Read more on AO3!

[pinkydevil16]

Sunshine Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen reader: part 18

Aemond stroked Y/n head as she slept across his chest, their legs tangled together as their naked bodies pressed against one another. Kissing her head he gently lifted her, moving out from under her to begin dressing for his journey. Throwing on his long black trench coat he placed his eyepatch on, covering his eye as he tried to not look at Y/n, he felt shameful as he covered the jewel she gifted him. Grabbing his dagger and sword he attached them to his side, tying his long hair back and looking back towards his sleeping wife. She looked so beautiful, a soft smile on her face as she tucked her face into the pillow Aemond slept on. He hummed to himself, he needed to leave before he crawled back to her and refused to go to Lord Baratheon.

Taking the proposition from his mother he nodded to Aegon, taking his leave and walking to the dragon pit to take Vhagar. It was only a short ride to Storm's end, arriving swiftly Aemond proposed the King's alliance to the man, Lord Baratheon offered his daughters to Aemond.

"Choose one of my daughters as a wife and we shall have a deal my prince." The man spoke, Aemond did not even look towards the women, he would never take another. He declined explaining he was wed, instead offering his mothers proposal of a male king or a female queen. 

"Announcing Prince Lucerys Valeryon, Son of Queen Rhaenyra of Dragonstone." Aemond smirked as he looked towards the 13 year old Strong Bastard as he walked into the hall. Lord Baratheon demanded the same as he had of Aemond, Lucerys stating he was betrothed, he was dismissed quickly allowing Aemond to speak up. 

Y/n woke up alone once again, smiling into her sheets as she smelt Aemond's faint scent. She dressed quickly and went in search of her husband, she wished to go for a ride on Cannibal with Aemond and Vhagar. She entered the throne room expecting to find Aemond and Aegon as she normally would find the two, instead Aegon was drinking whilst their mother spoke with the Lords. 

"Hello brother, where is Aemond?" Y/n spoke, smiling brightly at Aegon, Aegon drunkenly spewing out where Aemond was.

"Ahh sister, he's at storm's end ruining Lucery's alliance with Lord Baratheon." Y/n's eye widened, turning and running as she thought of Aemond and his spiteful nature. Picking up her dress as she whispered no over and over, Cannibal sensing her distress as she ran into the pit. Her eyes searching for Vhagar, she knew Aemond would not let Lucerys go without either his eye or terrorising him. Mounting Cannibal she felt her heart rushing, demanding he get them to storms end, a horrible storm coming over as she rode. The rain pelting down on her as she prayed she could get there fast, Cannibal flying easily as thunder clapped near them illuminating the sky as Y/n saw the shadow of Vhagar, her jaw unhinged as she raced upwards. Another flash showing a smaller dragon above the clouds, Y/n's heart stopped as she cried begging Canninal to stop them. 

"STOP VHAGAR NO." Y/n screamed in high valerian, Cannibal roaring so loud it felt as though the earth shook. His jaw widening as he shot fire at Vhagar, the female dragon snapping out of her murderous haze giving Cannibal enough time to cover the baby dragon Lucerys rode. The younger boy hysterically crying whilst clinging to Arrax, Y/n glared dangerously at Aemond, her husband shocked that Vhagar had tried to kill Lucerys when he had only meant to scare him. Cannibal snapped at Vhagar as she roared at him, she had fought in wars she was not be played with. Y/n to the younger dragon demanded he land on the beach, Lucerys begging the dragon to fly him home as he thought of his mother. Cannibal covered Arrax as he landed roughly, Lucerys flying off and onto the sand, Arrax curling around his small body and roaring at anything that moved protecting his rider. Y/n jumped from Cannibal, trying to calm her racing heart, demanding Cannibal not let anyone near them, he would not harm them but to scare them. The large beast hovering in the sky, Aemond trying to get to his wife as she appraoched Arrax, stopped by the almost pure black dragon staring him down. Y/n coaxed Arrax to let her in, the younger dragon moving and allowing her to run and catch her nephew. 

Lucerys shook in her arms as she clutched him close, he was soaked to the bone and crying hard into her, her heart broke as she tucked his head into her neck. Stroking his hair as she whispered he was okay, he was safe, no one would harm him. Arrax closed around the two, the two babies craving comfort from their brush with death. Aemond was in anguish as Cannibal threatened him when he tried to get closer, Vhagar refusing to fly closer the looming shadow of Cannibal making her fearful. Cannibal let out another roar, the buildings shaking from the shock waves he released, Vhagar roaring back but retreating. Aemond demanding she go back, he needed Y/n but the dragon flew back to kings landing, dropping to the ground and roaring in anger. 

Cannibal landed as gently as he could, wrapping his large body around the small baby dragon who covered his rider, his head facing the direction Vhagar went. His eyes narrowed as he listened to Y/n's heart beat, his heat warming both the small dragon and the two riders they hid. Y/n calmed Lucerys, the small boy quietly sobbing into her chest, his words mumbled and lost in the sounds of the storm. Lucerys exhausted himself, his body collapsing from fear against Y/n as she let him sleep against her. The fire in her eyes refusing to diminish as she thought of Aemond, how dare he chase a child? Terrorise a small boy, she understood his revenge but to use Vhagar in such a way hurt her deeply. 

Taglist:

@smileykiddie08

@hannaeditzs

@stuckinaf4nfiction

@verybluntstoner

@moonmaiden1996

@vaemmasworld

@eonnyx

@whitejuliana1204

@missusnora

@applepyesworld

@mingiholic

@crownofdecit

@destroyingdestiny

@alexisabirdie

@dudfahsn

@littlebatsimagines

@bloode-money

@mooonlight-and-stars

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@disturbing-love666

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@m00n5t0n3

@multifndom

[writeblrfantasy]

EXCERPT FROM THE LOVER WITH FIVE NAMES: PROLOGUE

The Nameless Lover knows what it means when the door closes like that. That crash of thunder, just from the latch clicking into place.

The Lover’s throat bobs.

Edgorn’s eyes were sharp with lightning as they ascended the stairs. His hand on the Nameless Lover’s back was a smoldering ember waiting to ignite. Stomping upstairs after the evening ball, Edgorn shoved off the servants waiting to help him undress. His guards were ordered to wait in the antechamber of marble and gold just beyond the bedchamber door.

Those same guards and servants send the Nameless Lover pitying smiles. Edgorn’s anger radiates like a quake in the ground.

Edgorn shrugs off his red coat with a pointedness that preludes a storm. His brows are drawn, his mouth curved into a scowl beneath his dark mustache. The Nameless Lover sits on the edge of their canopy bed, shoves his bejeweled wrists under his thighs, and waits for the storm to blow through.

Edgorn lays the red coat neatly on the bed and begins unbuttoning the gold shirt beneath before speaking. Surprisingly, his first words aren’t roared in anger, though a fire blazes bright in his brown eyes.

His words come low with danger instead, an unyielding calm. Edgorn’s control never lasts long. It will snap like a fine thread if tugged on too hard. “What was that behavior at dinner tonight?”

The Nameless Lover sighs heavily, considering his choices. Considering duty.

The Nameless Lover doesn’t feign ignorance, unlike other instances where he’s played the dumb and doting arm candy. “My conversation with Lady Zahara was nothing out of the ordinary.” The Nameless Lover isn’t attracted to ladies, despite his past affair with the queen of Coromoda. Edgorn truly has nothing to worry about. Not that he knows that.

Not that he knows anything about the Nameless Lover.

“She was mooning over you, and you were making eyes at her,” Edgorn snaps. The buttons of his cuffs come undone next, all with a punctuated sharpness even as his fingers shake. Too much wine. His face flushes red with it. “People flirt with you all the time. Understandable, looking as you do, but normally you’re oblivious. I don’t know what made you open your eyes tonight, but remember this: you are mine. No one else shall have you.”

He comes round to the other side of the bed, looming over the Nameless Lover. “Are we clear?”

So many times before, the Nameless Lover has averted his eyes and accepted Edgorn’s incontestable declarations without complaint. Without so much as a word. Edgorn is king, and the Nameless Lover has always been happy to let him think he holds the power.

“Yes,” the Nameless Lover says.

“Good.” Edgorn continues unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it free of the trousers it was tucked into. “Get undressed and get on the bed.”

That’s a command the Nameless Lover has heard all too many times, not just from Edgorn. He’s always grinned and bore it, duty and all that, but something in him hesitates tonight. He did choose to acknowledge and cautiously return Lady Zahara’s flirtations instead of tactfully ignoring them. He’s still not sure why he did it, because even as he did, standing under red lights and red ceilings, he knew it would elicit this reaction from Edgorn.

Maybe it’s because he wanted to see how Edgorn would react, find out if he could get away with it. The Nameless Lover has strived to evoke Edgorn’s anger deliberately in the past, but never without reason. The Lover always works with purpose—never more, never less. He is surgical in his methods, his plans, and his executions, and he never strays from them. He is emotionless. He can mold to whatever shape his current role needs.

He is perfect, untouchable. However, sometimes an outcry of disdain ignites in his heart, and he struggles to put it out.

Struggles to banish the desire to walk away from people like Edgorn, Cadhan, Isabella, and live a life of his own. Herra is the only thing he has left that’s real. But Herra is far, far from here. The Lover is alone.

“Cardamom,” Edgorn says, the fourth name. “Get undressed.”

The Nameless Lover takes a deep breath and raises his head. He looks Edgorn square in the eye, swallows, and says, “No.”

LOVER TAGLIST (LMK TO BE ADDED/REMOVED) @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @ashen-crest @woodhousejay @transmasc-wizard @worldbuildng @ettawritesnstudies @mcximilians @contes-de-rheio @void-fireworks @extrabitterbrain @pressedpapyrus @willowiswriting @houndmouthed @stormharbors @snowinks

GENERAL TAGLIST: @worldbuildng @muddshadow @nikkywrites @47crayons @directionoftime @chayscribbles @magic-is-something-we-create @rodentwrites

[mysweetomegamark]

count your blessings (and your days) MarkJae

4,064 Words

{Power Bottom Mark, Top Jaehyun}

Mark knows they aren’t being good kings.

He can see it in the way the servants look at him and at his husband, listens to their not-so-quiet whispers when they think Mark can’t hear it. They’ve never been good people— not since he and Jaehyun usurped the throne and claimed it for themselves. Not since Jaehyun planted himself on the royal seat and announced that he’s now their new monarch, placing the crown adorned with bloodied gemstones atop Mark’s head and declaring him as their other king.

They aren’t good kings, as far as the shorter knows.

It doesn’t stop Mark from brushing against his Jaehyun's fingers as they pass by each other in the hallway, though. Jaehyun shoots him a smirk through the black crown on his head. The red jewels that adorn it wink under the jeweled chandeliers.

Jaehyun looks the part of a tyrant king down to the letter, but it does not stop Mark from shivering in delight as they part ways. One of Mark’s people in his entourage never stops chattering about the agenda for the day.

Mark is ethereal, a cloud.

Of course, his choice of wardrobe was intentional. His royal blue robes take up space, flow like a great river that serves as a warning to people— to not touch, lest they get swept away. It’s as if he’s floating along the carpet, the soft silk drifting behind him. Mark's crown shines, a brilliant gold inlaid with light blue and white jewels. Even so, he does not look like a king. No matter how many rings he wears on his fingers, how many times he places small dripping chains on his earlobes, he is a cloud.

Then Mark reaches the throne room and bows slightly towards his husband, his beloved other king. Jaehyun speaks like his voice is thunder. The matte black crown on Jaehyun’s head stretches with points akin to lightning bolts. Everything about him is sharp— his gaze, his jawline, the pearl necklaces that adorn his neck and the gold pieces that pierce his ears, the black tunic and coat that hugs Jaehyun’s body like a second skin. The man looks like a king, through and through. He is electric, threatening to shock anyone should they get too close.

“My love,” Jaehyun purrs, and Mark can’t help but smile and shudder in glee. Mark makes his way up the platform, lets his hands run across a mountain of gold that lays in between their cathedrae, and sits in the throne beside his husband. They both observe the room as their servants bustle about, and Mark does well to ignore the side-eyes their attendants throw at them and the whispers they share into each other’s ears. Their loyal black leopard, which Jaehyun had affectionately named Minhyung, sits towards the side, in a corner of the room; the catamount is always watching, always guarding.

On their thrones, the two kings become a storm.

“I would assume that the meeting with the Huangs went well?” Jaehyun hums out, playing with a sapphire circlet on Mark’s finger. Jaehyun could have very easily gotten a coin from the pile of gold that surrounds their thrones, but he opts to instead play with the rings that decorate Mark’s hands. “What did they want?”

“What they’ve been requesting for the past three months or so,” Mark mumbles.“They want their war prisoners back.”

“What did you tell them?”

“They would need to surrender a part of their forestland before we can even consider giving their people back,” Mark hears his Jaehyun's chest rumble with satisfaction. “It would be a waste to give up such good slaves.”

"Ha!" Jaehyun snorts. "You are quite right, my love. You are absolutely dashing when you negotiate,” Jaehyun continues. And he is so fond, so enamoured with Mark. “An absolute darling.”

“Mhm,” Mark leans in for a chaste kiss, and giggles when Jaehyun chases after him for yet another one. “Not in front of the people, Your Grace.”

“Shall I tell them to go?” Jaehyun’s eyes blaze with passion. It makes Mark's stomach swirl with want. “I can order for them to leave.”

“Right now? Right here? Why not in our bed tonight, where it’s comfortable?”

“But my king,” Jaehyun pouts, so unlike him. The whispers never stop, and Jaehyun goes on and presents his case, “Why not here? Why not now?”

“Is that your final argument? Are you certain, your majesty?” Mark rolls his eyes, but he finds himself standing up to sit on Jaehyun’s lap, facing him. They’re both shameless— why wouldn’t they be? They are kings.

Jaehyun grins, playing with a rounded-off edge of his lover’s crown. Mark leans in, purrs in satisfaction when Jaehyun’s voice booms throughout the room, “All of you, leave at once. No one comes in unless there is an emergency. A foot steps past, and I’ll personally slice it off. Understood?”

No one speaks, but the attendants all shiver. They bow, scurrying out the entryway like rats. Jaehyun’s order would cause such a hassle— the servants would have to go all the way to the backdoors in order to get to the other areas of the palace, the royal entourages would have to mingle and grant audiences outside, but the kings don’t care.

They aren’t good rulers, after all.

“Minhyung, be a dear and guard the door, will you?” Jaehyun calls sweetly. The panther yawns, stretching. “Feel free to feast on whoever tries to come through.”

Mark watches their faithful pet obey and slink away, but he’s interrupted by a tug on his chin and lips roughly crashing onto his. Mark moans as he feels a hand tug on his hair and mess it up. His crown is knocked to a weird angle. “J-Jaehyun.”

“May I?” Fingers tug insistently at the shorter’s robe. Mark takes the initiative and removes it, letting it flutter towards the steps and revealing a rather simple tunic and pair of pants. Jaehyun licks his lips, lets his hands dive under the soft silk shirt and explore. Jaehyun’s voice is rough as he leans in close to mumble into Mark's ear, “So beautiful, my love.”

“My king,” Mark sighs in pleasure as he feels lips on his neck, feels fingers trace the stylized royal crest on his otherwise plain tunic, above his heart. The emblem proudly shows off an intricate 'L-J'— Lee-Jung, the kings that could rival a hurricane. Jaehyun traces it with his fingertips revelently. “Your Excellency, would you be so kind as to remove your—”

Jaehyun wastes no time to strip himself of his tight jacket, furiously unbuttoning his shirt to combat the heat of their skin. His hands grip Mark’s waist tight as the latter leans in, peppering kisses along the Jaehyun's bare chest.

“How risqué of you,” Jaehyun murmurs, sucking a breath as his husband’s shirt reveals slightly tanned skin. There are bruises, here and there; how else would Jaehyun claim him? “Where did my lily-white Mark go?”

“Do you not like this?” Mark peers through his lashes, smiling softly. It’s adorable, Jaehyun thinks, watching how his Mark's eyes flutter. “Who I am, now?”

“I love it,” Jaehyun giggles, pulling his husband close by the nape and into another searing kiss. Hands tug shirts out of the way, nails slightly drag across skin and leave pink lines. “I love you.”

“I know you do,” Mark chuckles, his fingers pulling at his Jaehyun's trousers. “Off.”

“Yes, my king,” Jaehyun giggles, and Mark removes himself from his lover, just for a while, to wiggle his pants and braies down to nonchalantly kick it among the mountains of riches. Jaehyun lifts his hips, just enough to let his slacks and underwear bunch down mid-thigh— just enough to let his half-hard cock slap against his shirt. Jaehyun can’t help but smirk. “Demanding. I like that.”

“Oh, be quiet you,” Mark snips, laughing under his breath. He slowly strokes Jaehyun to full hardness, biting his lip.

"You are making that face again."

"What face?"

"That particular face when you want me inside you already." Jaehyun simpers, spitting into his hand. He moves Mark's hand away to lubricate himself with his saliva. It’s so unlike them, to use distasteful methods to get what they want, but they don’t care one bit— why would they? They are kings.

Still, Mark scrunches his nose at the vulgarity of it. He mumbles under his breath, "Disgusting."

"It's not as if we have oil on hand," Jaehyun laughs, letting out little grunts as he somewhat fucks into his fist. It's still a little dry, but Jaehyun likes it that way. "And besides, you enjoy it when it gets messy. Don't you, my love?"

“Hmph,” Mark promptly leans in and shuts Jaehyun up with his lips, but the kiss quickly devolves into a clashing of teeth. Mark gasps when he feels canines sink into his lower lip, but Jaehyun just laughs into his mouth. “T-That hurt.”

Jaehyun murmurs, “Apologies, Your Grace,” as he swipes across his Mark's tongue with his own. He tugs Mark closer, but not quite on his lap yet. “I cannot help myself, not when I have such a pretty thing. A beautiful king.”

Jaehyun smiles, all dimples, but it fades when he watches how Mark makes himself at home on his lap and guides Jaehyun’s dick to kiss his rim. “Dear, is that wise? Mere saliva is not as effective as our oils—”

“Silence,” Mark orders, fixing his crown if only to look the part. “I would have no tolerance for someone to second-guess my actions.”

Jaehyun just barely manages to bite back a groan. He feels a rush of delight at the authoritative tone his husband uses, the manner in which the gold crown gleams against the chandelier lights, the way bejeweled rings bite into Jaehyun’s skin, and how Mark doesn’t hesitate to sheathe himself on his cock.

Mark is not a king— he is a cloud. But Jaehyun is a king, and he is lightning; together, they become a thunderstorm.

“By God's bones,” Jaehyun groans out, throwing his head back. His crown connects with the back of his throne and is knocked off, falling into the mounds of gold. His hands shoot out to grip at Mark's waist, threatening to imprint bruises from how hard he’s holding on. “Mark—”

“I’m still quite loose, from the night before,” Mark breathes out, grinding softly against Jaehyun's pelvis. Mark clenches around him, and the former relishes in the way his husband’s hips jerk up. “Do you like it, Your Majesty?”

Right now, Mark is the definition of cocky. He leans back, swivelling his ass with a lazy smirk on his face. His body heats up and flushes under the hooded eyes of his king. But Jaehyun has other plans.

“Don’t be so arrogant, my love,” Jaehyun says sweetly, thrusting up once— that’s all it takes for Mark’s fragile facade to fall apart; he shivers, finally letting himself shallowly bounce on his Jaehyuns lap. “Pride may be your downfall.”

“It could be yours as well, my king,” Mark pants out, letting himself fall forward. The crown is slipping off his head yet again, but he makes no move to fix it; he favors gripping the armrests of Jaehyun’s throne instead. “It would do you well to not let your guard down.”

“Are you threatening me?” Jaehyun rumbles out, finally moving. Moans fall from Mark’s lips, sweet as honey, and it does well to stop any response that he had originally thought of. “Is that an attempt to frighten me, darling?”

“Just trying to remind you, dearest,” Mark smiles, drunk off the decadence and power. His crown is lopsided, threatening to slide off as he continues to ride Jaehyun. “That we sit on bloodied thrones.”

All Jaehyun can do is laugh, letting his hands grab what they can; they’re greedy, and they decide to pull Mark closer a little closer. Their bodies are lined with a thin layer of sweat, and the slap of skin is unmistakable. Their groans and whimpers flood the room ever so slowly.

“Y-Your Majesties,” A timid voice calls out from the entrance to the throne hall. “We— argh!”

Mark gasps when he hears the retainer scream and Minhyung’s roar following it. He feels Jaehyun pull him against his chest, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as their loyal mountain lion makes quick work of the foolish servant.

“Ignore them, Your Grace,” Jaehyun murmurs melodiously, a complete contrast to the shrieks on the other side of the hall. Mark thinks, if he tries hard enough, he can make out the faint stench of blood. “Focus on me. I’m right here.”

“A-ah—” The shorter man gasps out when he feels the cock inside him hit his prostate, and all worries vanish in favor of chasing pleasure. Sparks dance across his body, making his thighs quiver as a hand runs through his hair and knocks his crown to the other side of his head. “My K-King—”

“Right there?” Jaehyun hums, angling his hips so that he can aim for Mark’s sweet spot over and over again. Mark scrambles, trying to figure out what to hold onto; his hands slide off the armrests, his shaky fingertips fly towards the piles of gold— which ends up scattering the coins everywhere— until finally he settles on flattening his palms against his husband’s chest. “Hmm?”

“Yes,” Mark sobs out, eyes fluttering shut. There’s no precision to his movements now, especially since Jaehyun had started to stroke him in time with his thrusts. The pain-laden shrieks from the other side of the room have all but ceased, and the symphony of moans picks up in earnest. “Yes. J-Jaehyun, I—”

They hear Minhyung purr, and there are wisps of whispers. But if the leopard is not hurting anyone, then it must mean that people are not trying to take a step inside; everyone else is too far away for the two kings to care about anything else. Not even the servant that had been mauled by their pet mountain lion.

“My love,” Jaehyun pants, letting his legs fall open more so that he can spread Mark’s legs in turn. The position has Mark choking on a groan, speeding up. “F-Fuck—”

“Such v-vulgarity, Your Excellency,” Mark giggles breathily through his moans. His shirt sticks to his skin, and he curses; he probably should have stripped it off, too. Oh well. “You are lucky that… that n-no one else is a-around.”

Jaehyun is cheeky. “Is my king losing his ability to speak?”

“God, Jaehyun, I’m c-close. Just… Just ruin m-me,” Mark pleads, letting his head loll and his hair bounce as he tries to ride his lover as fast as he can. His cock weeps with precome, threatening to spill over. Electricity dances between them, and it makes Mark’s stomach tingle with that familiar heat. “Ruin m-me, r-ruin me, r...ruin—”

“You cannot say that and expect me to not follow through,” Jaehyun growls, slamming his hips up. He doesn’t slow down or try to be gentle, not even when the younger wails and grips at his biceps. He mouths at Mark’s neck, leaving wet kisses. His thrusts are sloppy, and the hand stroking his lover’s cock is a blur. “Are you close, my sweet? Will you come for me?”

“Yes,” Mark feels tears cascade down his face. He feels the hair amidst his crown being pulled, and he’s being lifted up to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. The intensity that swirls in Jaehyun's eyes is so dark, so pitch-black makes Mark shiver. “Yes, p-please, I’m so— Jaehyun, I...”

“Of course. Y-yes, of course,” Jaehyun can only moan as he thrusts into his husband's tight heat. Mark clenches down on him like he doesn’t want to let him go, and Jaehyun can only chase his own high, the squelch of Mark's precum making the slide of his hand so easy. “Come whenever you’d like. For me, beloved. I’m right here.”

“I’m—!” Mark chokes on a whine. He stills, but Jaehyun just keeps thrusting in. Mark's voice catches on a gasp before he finally finds it; it breaks on the first syllable. “I-I’m coming! I’m g-going to—”

Mark’s mouth falls open, but no sound whatsoever escapes him. His eyes are squeezed shut and his brows are furrowed as ropes of cum spatters on top of Jaehyun’s stomach; Jaehyun licks his lips at the sight, milking Mark dry all the while.

“Just a little more. I’m almost done, darling, I promise,” Jaehyun softly murmurs into Mark's ear. The latter slumps into Jaehyun's embrace, letting himself be used. He doesn’t move even when Jaehyun's thrusts become hurried— a telltale sign. “So tight and warm for me, my beautiful king. So p-perfect. Ah, ah—”

Jaehyun bites into Mark's shoulder, but it doesn’t do much to hide the moan he lets out as he fills Mark with all he has. Mark whimpers through his haze, just a little overstimulated.

It’s when they’re both trying to catch their breath and Jaehun's thighs are shaking that he breathes out, “You’re a little heavy, Your Grace.”

“Hm, should have thought about that before taking me right here, then,” Mark chuckles. He kisses behind one of Jaehyun's red ears. It smells faintly of the luxurious oils that they bathe in; it helps distract him from the scent of blood, now that they’ve come down from the clouds of lust. “I, for one, am not complaining the slightest bit.”

“That’s because you’re the one on someone’s lap, Your Majesty,” Jaehyun coos, then his voice shifts back into rumbling thunder. It resonates throughout the empty throne room, and no doubt it reaches the people waiting outside. Minhyung yawns, job done, and sneaks back to his corner. “Clean up the insolent simpleton and dispose of them. Fools you are, just standing there! Now the blood will stain the carpets.”

“My love,” Mark suddenly mumbles into the crook of his Jaehyun's neck, gaining back neck attention. “Do you ever think about our old lives?”

“Are you getting sentimental after sex, dear?” Jaehyun giggles, but decides to indulge his husband. “I do, sometimes.”

Ah, yes. The past would always be a part of them— two masterminds, as fearsome as a monsoon, of a miscarried revolution. They had come from nothing, from the dirt of the crime-rampant streets, and risen from the ashes to inspire people and have them rise up against the cruel, greedy royals. The two leaders— the lovers that have lived tragic lives— gathered a significant number of rebels, all eager for change and to end the cycle of tyranny at last. People joined out of sympathy, out of anger; they just wanted the oppression to stop.

So, one night, they decided to stage a coup.

Oh, it almost failed, of course. The revolutionaries only had farming equipment or handmade weapons at their disposal, and if they were to be compared to the experienced and skilled palace soldiers… they didn’t stand a chance.

“But we did,” Jaehyun assures Mark, leaving a soft kiss atop his head— crown and all. He cuddles Mark closer; they like to stay together like this, for a while, in each other’s embrace. “We got out of it alive.”

They were the only ones who managed to live, having snuck inside the castle as the guards were dispatched to stop the band of angry peasants.Their shouts for freedom and for change echoed throughout the stone walls.

“I’m sorry,” Mark mumbles back. Guilt bubbles at the back of his throat and leaves a sour taste in his mouth. “It was because of my moment of hesitation that almost got us killed.”

It was Mark that had raised the knife, silver blade glinting in the moonlight. His hand was shaking as he looked down at the slumbering king and queen. He remembers whimpering like a coward, sweat dripping down his temple. The king was the one that had woken up first, by the noise caused by the riots outside.

The old king had shaken his wife awake, shouting. Mark had dropped the knife, letting it clatter to the floor; he was not a murderer, and he let the king and queen tumble out of bed to run out of the room. The both of them cradled their crown and tiara close, like it’s the one thing that they could really call theirs.

“It’s quite alright, my love,” Jaehyun cradles his Mark's face in his hands and showers kisses all over it as a form of reassurance. “I handled it, did I not?”

In the end, it was Jaehyun that snatched the dagger from the floor, chasing after the two royals like it was a hunt for game. Mark had struggled to catch up— the fighting outside the front of the palace, the lack of proper lighting, and his own emotions had disoriented him. His only clue were flashes of red hair, vibrant as the color of blood, through the castle windows and the silver moonlight. Mark thinks he heard the queen cry out, her voice like a wounded animal.

Gradually, the shouts of the peasants died down, and metal footsteps rang all around the castle. They had heard the queen scream, and were on alert.

“I’m still sorry,” Mark sniffles. “Things would have been easier if I just… if only I was brave enough to—”

He is silenced by a pair of lips. He didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted salty tears and felt fingers wipe them away.

“You were scared, darling. It’s okay to be scared,” Jaehyun whispers, tender. Even though he’s still inside of Mark, the moment they share is personal and deep. “We are here now. We are kings now.”

Mark remembers rushing into the throne hall to find Jaehyun standing over the bodies of the king and queen. The older was covered in blood and, when he looked towards Mark, his eyes sent shivers down Mark’s spine; the look in Jaehyun’s eyes was positively feral and adrenaline-laced. The way Mark had approached his beloved was akin to a scared lamb.

Soldiers ran in, but they were much too late. They were paralyzed, at a loss of what to do; the guards were supposed to be well-trained, but… their masters are dead. They couldn’t do anything but watch as Jaehyun placed himself on the throne, testing it out, before putting the king’s crown on his Mark's head.

Then the castle became a palace, and one king became two.

“What if we end up like them?” Mark mumbles nuzzling Jaehyun’s hand. “Everyone knows that we have blood on our hands. What if we end up dead?”

What if they’re the ones who'll have their bodies strewn across the steps below their thrones, their crowns wrenched away?

What if two people, as great as an earthquake, decide to take a page from Mark and Jaehyun’s book and take the throne for themselves? What would happen if another pair, as intense as raging fires, decide to burn down everything they knew and loved?

Will there be change, then?

“I don’t think so,” Jaehyun’s voice, as soothing as it is, snaps Mark out of his reverie. “That is very unlikely to happen. We rule with iron fists. No one would dare.”

That’s what the former king and queen said as well, Mark tells himself as he cuddles closer, before their blood colored their precious jewels red.

“I will ask the servants to run a bath,” Mark mumbles, finally getting out of his husband’s lap. He bites his lip as he lets Jaehyun’s cock slip out, as cum drips down his thighs. “And perhaps take a little walk in the garden.”

Mark fishes around the gold for his clothes and, after a moment’s consideration, Jaehyun’s crown. He lets his fingers run along the matte black before setting it on Jaehyun's head. Mark smiles, “My king.”

“My king,” Jaehyun echoes with a grin, taking Mark’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Now put on your bottoms, you silly thing.”

“I am, I am,” Mark laughs. His clothes are wrinkled but, at the very least, he’s relatively decent for the palace. He swoops in for a kiss, soft and sweet. “I love you.”

“And I you,” Jaehyun’s smile is evident even as their lips dance against each other slowly.

Mark thinks he’ll try to wear a string of pearls around his neck, too. Just to see what it’s like.

[lilith-little-world]

Sneak Peek of Chapter One(?) Pt. 2|| The Isekai’d Oracle

I know I haven't posted anything for a while. Got super busy, did a ton of research, and had slight writer's block. Yesterday I finally was able to write something only to have a... cooking accident. I'm fine just burn my hand from some boiling water and a slight cut on the other. Doesn't hurt and the red mark from the burn went away.

Anyways I don't know if I want to keep this in. Feels like it's too out of place since it's should be all from the reader's perspective but I do like how we see from the other’s point of view. It feels refreshing to not have all of it in the reader's. It also keeps you guys wanting to read more. Since few of the other characters know more than the reader, yet are somewhat clueless about the oracle's plans for this so-called good ending. So it kind of balances each other out, hopefully.

Also, I watched S4 and holy shit. Mei’s a thousand-time grandfather is hot. I want him.

It was a rainy day. Dark clouds consumed the skies, thunder shaking the world. People continued on with their day, not letting the rain stop them from their tasks. Mk and Mei playing around at the restaurant, messing with Tang. Pigsy tries to scold them for it but was too busy making noodles. Sandy watches from afar drinking tea since the storm had made the waves too out of control for him to stay on the boat.

The demon bull family stayed back home and kept their distance away from the city and heroes. After their embarrassing defeat. Macaque hides in the shadows waiting for the storm to pass. While Wukong relaxes at the temple, hoping that the storm won't cancel today's training.

It was a normal day so far.

Yes, nothing new or life-changing. Everything was peaceful. Then there was the blast.

In an empty street, sparks of a dull peach color form in the middle of the road. Until slowly turning into a small golden ball of energy. Catching the attention of the passerby.

Getting brighter and hotter, the ball of energy exploded. Blinding the street in golden light. As the shockwave shot through the city, shaking the ground and clearing the skies.

Buildings shook, people and objects fell, and cars swerved or came to a sudden stop. The once busy and loud city was silent for a moment. Not knowing what that blast was, especially for the gang.

“What was that?” Mei asks, clinging to a chair to steady herself.

“Maybe it was an earthquake?” Tang said questioningly. Not even believing it was that simple.

“No, it's not.” Mk states, staring at the entrance. Any joyous expression pushed off his face. That amount of energy shouldn't have shaken his soul like that.

It made him anxious.

“Then what was that?” Pigsy shouts annoyed. Picking up the noodles from the floor.

Mk stayed silent. That energy was familiar, yet he couldn't wrap his head around where he felt it before.

“I don't know…” Those words didn't feel right coming from his mouth. He sighs before pushing those feelings to the side.

“-BUT, I'll just ask Monkey King. He knows everything.” Mk said with a smile. He shouldn't worry too much about this after all. He can't lose his cool in front of his friends.

“You look stressed bud, here, have some tea.” Sandy gently pats Mk's back, giving him a cup.

“I'm fine honestly, that earthquake startled me.”

“Aww, don't worry Mk.” Mei wraps her arms around him. Giving the young man a rather tight hug.

“It was pretty scary, and out of nowhere. At least no one got hurt, right?” Mei smiles trying to cheer up Mk.

“Yeah, at least no one is hurt.”

However, he wasn't the only one shaken. Far from it. How could they? When their last encounter with the oracle was less than pleasant. No, they rather forget about the incident.

Iron Fan pulls out a small withered box. Time had worn down, and the fragile container.

“Are you sure about this? Was that blast from that spirit?” The Bull King asks.

“Yes, my love, no matter how many years pass. I will always remember that energy, even though it's a lot duller.” She takes off the cover, finally seeing the contents.

Few pieces of paper, with dates and instructions. Neatly stacked and tied together with a red ribbon. She pulls out the small paper that sits on top of the stack.

“Sorry for not making it interesting, especially when I made you wait so long to open it. There isn't anything impressive in the bag I gave you as well. Just some clothing and a few accessories. Hope you two are doing well. Remember, follow the instructions precisely, if not, I'll get very upset!” Iron Fan reads out loud the note.

“She’s vague as usual.” The Bull King mumbles outs.

“Aren't all seers and oracles? For being able to see the future, they like to be mysterious, it's their whole gimmick.” She takes out the stack of papers, ready to follow the oracle's Instructions.

“How do you feel about this? I haven't forgotten that reaction from earlier.”

There was a slight pause in her actions.

“I'm fine, it's all in the past, but best if we follow the instructions she gave us. We don't want to have another outburst.”

“Seers are truly unfortunate beings.”

Iron Fan stayed silent, sadly agreeing with her husband's statement. Luckily, from the notes that have been written. It seems there wouldn't be an outburst. Relief washes over her, letting out a sigh. The Bull King stood close and placed a hand on her shoulders.

Then it left the two mystic monkeys, who didn't know how to react. Yet concluding on the same action. Staying far away from the oracle, but for different reasons.

Macaque sees the poor woman as a bad omen and rather ignores it.

Wukong, on the other hand, thought he was the bad omen. Convinced that if he shows up, it will end badly for her. This time he won't help her. It was for the best. Wukong truly believes that she is strong enough to survive and complete the task she needs to do.

“Good luck little oracle, may your journey be painless and uncomplicated, this time around.” He said softly, before closing the door behind him.

Not daring to look back at the city or her.

[love-anteros]

music taste of the ouran host club ᐟᐟ☆ .ᐟ

—personal ouran headcanons ♡ —some taylor swift hc inspo from @cold-heart-warm-writings

haruhi fujioka

definitely a mitski girlie.

fav songs off mitski’s discography: “my love mine all mine,” “first love / late spring,” “class of 2013,” “once more to see you”

tamaki always recommends taylor swift songs to them; ends up enjoying folklore (“invisible string,” “august”) 

hc from tiktok (@/gyuldangie): tamaki told them that “when emma falls in love” reminded him of their relationship, and haruhi says that the song’s just ok. he later sees the song saved on her favorite playlist … :)

also enjoys ichiko aoba & lamp

tamaki pays for their duo spotify premium account ♡

exchanges song recommendations w kaoru; definitely has a few phoebe songs on their playlists

listens to red velvet w hani on occasion 

tamaki suoh

hardcore swiftie. definitely bought front row seats + backstage passes for the eras tour and begged the entire host club to accompany him.

speak now + lover stan, loves a few songs off rep, 1989, & fearless 

“haruhi, do you think taylor thought of me when she wrote ‘king of my heart’ & ‘gorgeous’ ?~ “

“i absolutely believe that taylor pictured our beloved romance when she wrote lover, haruhi .ᐟ~”

fav songs off taylor’s discography: “lover,” “paper rings,” “you are in love,” “speak now,” “enchanted,” “love story”

also likes other pop artists: katy perry (“teenage dream,” “california girls”) harry styles (“adore you”)

a bit of classical piano mixed into his playlist; immediate jump from taylor to chopin when his spotify is on shuffle

he is absolutely a laufey fan .ᐟ (dedicated the entire bewitched album to haruhi … )

listens to a bit of mitski b/c of haruhi: “ hm … i think that ‘my love mine all mine’ reminds me of you, my lovely haruhi :) “

enjoys tv girl & ricky montgomery recs from haruhi: “lovers rock,” “mr. loverman,” “my heart is buried in venice,” “boy toy,” “line without a hook” ♡

hani introduced him to kpop, & he absolutely loves a few svt, nct, & txt songs .ᐟ — “perfume,” “to you,” “imperfect love,” “light a flame,” “way home”

hikaru hitachiin 

frank ocean, tyler the creator, the weeknd 

“white ferrari,” “are we still friends,” “ivy,” “super rich kids,” “new magic wand,” “escape from la,” “foreword” .ᐟ

kaoru introduced him to rex orange county; likes “corduroy dreams,” “uno,” “open a window”

that one scene where hikaru comforts haruhi during the thunder storm? his headphones were def playing “sunflower” by rex orange county 

kaoru hitachiin

phoebe bridgers, gracie abrams ☼

“i know it won’t work,” “i know the end,” “kyoto,” “motion sickness,” “garden song,” “where do we go now?”

likes a few taylor songs from red + folklore

a sucker for “all too well” — 10 minute ver.

absolutely sobbed to “i guess” by mitski; recommended by haruhi °˖➴ (“i guess this is the end / i’ll have to learn / to be somebody else / it’s been you and me / since before i was me / without you, i don't yet know / quite how to live”)

kyoya ootori 

matt maltese .ᐟ

tamaki learned how to play the piano part of “when you wash your hair” for kyoya’s birthday ♡

fav songs from matt maltese’s discography: “as the world caves in,” “everyone adores you (at least i do),” “krystal,” “smile in the face of the devil,” “little person”

definitely does NOT cry & think about tamaki when he listens to “wish you’d ask me” .ᐟ

… secretly enjoys twice & attended a concert w hani + mori; mina bias 

small crush on yeonjun from txt

listens to mac demarco w haruhi (“one more love song,” “for the first time,” “heart to heart”)

a few classical piano songs recommended by tamaki on his favorite playlist ♡ 

mitsukuni "hani" haninozuka 

diehard twice stan.

nayeon + momo bias 

also likes loona (esp chuu .ᐟ) & txt

♡ “blue hour” (& the other songs on minisode1: blue hour), “pop,” “heart attack,” “love countdown,” “chocolate” (day6), “polaroid love”

definitely doxxed a 12 yr. old b/c they said that nayeon flopped w her solo debut °˖➴ (he already didn’t have enough sleep that day after trying to get twice concert tickets all night … )

tried listening to kanye during his middle school “tough guy” phase … hated it.

listens to taylor every now & then w tamaki; fearless & speak now stan

takashi "mori" morinozuka 

looks like he’d be the type of guy to listen to frank ocean & tyler the creator … listens to the most basic music in existence. (still love mori, though .ᐟ )

… imagine dragons 

listened to “high hopes” by p!atd on loop.

probably likes some drake songs 

listens to kpop w hani though & takes him to concerts; hani would sit on top of his shoulders so he could see the stage

—+ regardless of their diverse music tastes, they all bond over olivia rodrigo & definitely had a sleepover where they listened to the entire guts album ♡

—+ also, ik that ouran takes place in the early 2000s & they definitely wouldn't be listening to modern western music + kpop, but oh well .ᐟ (this is just a reflection of my own music taste, i think ... )

[justakidicarus]

Dark Link - The Fall of a Hero (3/?) Part 2 - The Hatching's Interlude

This one has a lot of world-building. Assumptions can be found in the Prologue. This part does not actually include Link at all, but it does discuss him and builds a bit more on Drakeon as a character.

More notes for parts of the story mentioned and different pieces of worldbuilding I haven't been able to integrate into the fic are beneath the fic. Spoilers for the trailer of Echoes of Wisdom. This fic should be considered Non-canon to the events of Echoes of Wisdom and is heavily canon-divergent. Fic below the cut.

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“You failed to break in the Hero. Worse, you allowed him to escape.” The demon king growled from atop his throne as the silver Lizalfos strolled into the room with an air of nonchalance. Drakeon paid little mind to Ganon’s building rage, instead busying herself with checking over her staff. The little brat gave as good as he got, she could give him that. Still, it was only a matter of time before the scouting parties found his location. Once she knew where he was, it would be whelp’s play to bring him back.

Ganon’s growl deepened and the Lizalfos winced as she heard the boar slam his staff into the ground, an echo of’ Warning’ ringing through the room. The demon king hissed “Do not ignore me Hatchling. I am your King, and you will respect me as such.” The Darkness thickened and writhed, responding to its master’s fury.

“Ah get ya the results ya want better than any o’ your stuffy Fallen-born Monster ever could an’ you know it.” Drakeon pointed out, reminding him of why her insolence is excused. The Monsters of the Fallen were weak, used to gorging on Darkness so much that they became lazy and inefficient. Her kind never got that luxury. Drakeon herself didn’t even hail from the lands of Hyrule, far removed from its dark powers. Her people worked for every bit of strength they had and earned every bit of respect they received from both the land and her spirits. No fallen-born monster had the drive to bring the best out of a Monster. Only her kind, Whelp-born with enough grit and determination to make it to adulthood, had enough drive to get things done. Drakeon was the only Whelp-born to get on this side of the veil anyway. She was irreplaceable and they both knew it.

“You failed to get results this time. I do not tolerate mistakes.” Ganon said, eyes narrowing dangerously from what she could see out of the corner of her eye.

“An ah don’t tolerate them neither,” Drakeon shrugged, rolling and unrolling her tail. It had begun to grow past her comfortable length. She’d have to see if she could cut it down soon to something more manageable.

“And yet you deign to make one.” The Demon King rumbled, like the thunder warning of an incoming storm. Drakeon took a deep breath, looking to the sky where the veil between realms was at its thinnest.

“Tha Hero’s spirit is that of ah sublime beast.” She quoted from memory. The Divine Beast of Twilight’s words wore heavily on her shoulders, alongside his canine stare and sharp fangs. She turned to look directly at Ganon himself, not hesitating to make direct eye contact with the yellow-eyed boar. She tilted her head to the side as she asked: “Do ya ‘ave any idea what that means?”

She didn’t let the demon king get a word out before standing, swinging her staff in a ‘Listen’ motion as the room quieted to let her speak. “It means tha out there is a beast that ‘as a master, you if we wanna be technical. If ya chain up ah wolf, it’ll bite ya back real hard. If ya put a horse in lock up, it’ll kick ya whenever ya get near. If ya cage a bird, it’ll fly away first chance it gets.” She drawled, strolling around the room as her staff made barely audible clicks as she moved. “Ya don’t wanna piss off ah wild animal ya hear? Mah tribe an’ I lived among them, we know how they work. Ah won’t lie, Ah’ve met tha Hero type before too. Ah know how tha’ brat works better than ‘he does. Tame at first glance, feral as all hell the next.”

Ganon moved to speak. She slammed her staff down with her next step, ‘Warning’ roaring through the silent chamber. “Tha Hero’s spirit is that of ah sublime beast.” She repeated, the shadows of the room responding with her words, her lineage, as the veil thinned imperceptibly. “An treat a beast right, let it run free on tha wind, an’ feed it when it comes tah heel, and it’ll be loyal ferever more. Ah, don’t make mistakes Ganon.” She spat, tail swaying behind her as she twisted around toward the entryway, letting her words and their meaning sink in. She had her plan, and while the hero running didn’t make it easy, she knew what she had to do to bring him in.

As she made it to the grand doors, she glared over her shoulder at the demon king who remained on his throne, seemingly considering her words and what it would mean for his future strength. She remembered his earlier words. She wouldn’t let them go uncorrected. “An yer not mah King.” She hissed, slamming the doors of the throne room behind her on her way out.

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First (Prologue) -> Previous (Part 1: Recruiter's Call) -> Current (Part 2: The Hatchling's Interlude) -> Next

This is all the pre-written parts I have since Part 3 is what I hit my writer's block on. It's mostly finished too I'm just trying to get past the final bit of the part and then I could post it.

Lots of notes this time sorry for the chunks of text:

Drakeon hails from the Ordona Provence. Her tribe were reclusive and lived off the land, not encountering the Hero of Twilight until well after the events of Twilight Princess. As the tribe was considered citizens of Orodona Provenance by the Light Spirit due to a truce, Twilight was instructed by the spirit not to attack the Lizalfos. The tribe and Twilight had good albeit uneasy relations from Twilight’s side until the hero passed when his soul moved to the Twili realm post-mortem and he became the realm's divine protector. Drakeon’s tribe were gifted the ability to move through the veil between realms, which allowed them to travel to the Twili realm, where Drakeon met Twilight. Drakeon later travelled through the veil again but with different intentions, discovering the Downfall Timeline. She travelled it, met the Demon king's army, and enlisted for the fuck of it (and because she was disgusted with the attitude of the army and wanted to whip them into shape). Her strangeness made its way to Ganon and they met, Ganon promoted her to General and placed her in charge of all military training. She refuses to tell Ganon anything about her timeline, to his chagrin, but he would be a fool to kill such a valuable and irreplaceable asset.

While monsters are aware of the other timelines, they couldn’t travel to them. The Downfall Timeline calls their monsters Fallen-born (As the Hero of Time was killed), the Child Timeline Whelp-born (As the Hero of Time was a Child (a Whelp) when he thwarted Ganon), and the Adult Timeline Hero-born (as the Hero of Time was fully fledged in their timeline). Hatchling is an insult meant to poke at Drakeon’s Lineage as a Lizalfos hailing from the Child timeline, yes, Ganon is racist.

Ganon is in fact, not Drakeon’s demon king. TP Ganondorf technically is, but he never called the Ordonian Lizalfos to arms so they never caused trouble at the behest of darkness. If anything, the only being that could claim rulership of the tribe is Ordona xemself. And yes, Drakeon has an Ordonian accent and also identifies as Ordonian

Yes by locking up Link Ganon kinda fucked himself in the long run. Yes, Dark Link has obsessive loyalty to the demon king but that loyalty is magic-induced and as soon as Link is free from it he gives Ganon the mother of all wallops. Meanwhile, Drakeon gets to go free and unharmed because she was never overly cruel to Link. She treats him as she would treat a wolf pup that wandered into camp. Her more violent acts were corrections, not done out of cruelty and wanting to cause pain but more to correct his behaviour. Don’t misbehave, don’t get hurt. Drakeon gave Ganon the tools to keep Link permanently at his side. Ironically those tools are care, trust, and understanding of limits. Ganon disregarded this and paid the price while Drakeon got out of it with a free ally.

Anyway any sort of feedback is welcome within reason and if there are any questions, feedback, or suggestions feel free to comment or send an ask and I'll try to answer them.

I don't have a set time for when I'll be able to send the next part though so we'll see how it goes!