#tree fic

[kingsofeverything]

Ten Lines (even though it’s not) Tuesday

The lively @lululawrence tagged me to post 10 lines, and then @reminiscingintherain and @jacaranda-bloom tagged me in the last line challenge, so I’m combining and posting the last 10 lines i wrote which are the first 10 lines of a new fic:

The most difficult thing about visiting a park or hiking trail for the first time is finding the right parking spot. Shady is best, but not always possible, because those areas tend to fill up fast, so Harry invested in a set of sun shades years ago. So when he drives through the lot and the only uncrowded area is on the far side where the sun shines down unfiltered, he simply shrugs and pulls into the space at the very end of the line.

With the car still running, Harry sets up the front sun shades in the windshield, passenger and driver side windows, then climbs over the center console into the back seat. Once he’s set up the shades in the three rear windows, Harry stretches out his legs, sparks up a joint, and takes a few hits.

There’s nothing quite like hiking high. Harry's always liked weed, but mix it with working up a sweat surrounded by trees and leaves and fresh air and sunshine and it’s the perfect combination of his favorite things. With a good buzz going, Harry folds the roach into a tiny square of foil, chugs a bottle of water, checks that he’s got everything he needs in his pack, and climbs out of his smoke-filled car.

The seven mile out-and-back hike should challenge him, but Harry's up for it, accustomed to long trails and elevation changes. Adjusting his hat, Harry starts off towards the trailhead kiosk to register and begin his hike.

Tagging y’all back and tagging @homosociallyyours @louandhazaf @juliusschmidt @karamelised @becomeawendybird @bananaheathen @crinkle-eyed-boo @disgruntledkittenface @greenfeelings @louisandtheaquarian @jaerie @mediawhorefics @absoloutenonsense to post either a line or 10 from your WIP 🩷

[amazing-spiderlad]

I'm just gonna say it, the twenty one pilots tree fic was basically just fight club.

Iykyk, tell me I'm wrong.

[plantsexuaboy]

fucking your fae bf outside so good that he grips the grass & plant life starts to grow rapidly around you both.

sucking ur tree boy off so good that spring comes early

[valtsv]

are we still doing this because i have a late submission

[dcxdpdabbles]

Dick: What is going on here?!

Tim: Dick! It's not what it looks like!

Dick: So you're not about to sacrifice the boy pin starfish style to the sacerfical circle!?

Tim: well- I mean- He likes it!

Danny: I do!

Dick: Timothy Drake Wayne, explain yourself right this second before I get sent to Arkham for the whooping I'm about to give you!

Tim: Okay! Just calm down. Look, I found out I could be a witch on my mother's side, and Danny was willing to help me unlock my powers. He took the role of blood source, and it was totally voluntary. I swear, it's completely safe!

Dick: You found out you might have magic and instead of consulting the fully trained and available magic users we know, you choose to use your classmate as a blood source!? That is completely unacceptable Timothy!

Tim: All I was doing was using him as a magic Focus!

Dick: And you, do you have any idea what you agreed to!? You could have died!

Danny: I already did that, but to spend time with the hottest boy in school? I will do whatever the hell he wants and that includes laying in a sacerfical circle.

Tim: You think I'm hot?

Danny: I do-

Dick: No flirting! You're grounded Timothy, until you learn to not attempt Dark Magic without a professional and you! Go home!

Danny: Aw is our date over?

Tim: This was a date?

Danny: I-

Dick: GET OUT OF HERE!

[proxycrit]

More caitvi for the soul (art tag if you wanna see more arcane!)

Check out my patreon for my sketchbook!

[peachylynnie]

gift exchange

word count: 2.4k

synopsis: in which you get sick on christmas, and sylus is there to make it better.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating but sylus is down bad), christmas themes, a singular reference to his myth, a singular reference to grassland romance, mentions and consumption of food, suggestive themes, cursing, angst, and fluff.

a/n: i got sick. again. on christmas too. you know what that means. sylus time! on a related note, i hope everyone had a wonderful christmas. my rafayel fic is gonna upload soon as well. enjoy! reblogs and comments always welcome! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

you curse as you rip open a hot chocolate packet. "sick on christmas," you grumble as you pour the contents into a mug. "how the fuck is that even possible."

of course, anyone can get sick at any time. it's inevitable. but, seriously? of all the days the pain in your throat and ears could have appeared, it just HAD to be on fucking christmas day. sure, it's not like you had any plans. normally you would celebrate with grandma and caleb by feasting on countless dishes and singing christmas songs from an old karaoke machine caleb swears isn't broken. but they're not around anymore.

you sigh miserably as you trudge over to the water dispenser for hot water, not wanting to think about your lost family. as you press the button for hot water, you lean against the dispenser, trying to figure out what you're going to do for the rest of the day. you were planning on visiting the market to make a nice dinner or perhaps order takeout at your favorite restaurant. but those are no longer viable options since your throat is killing you and your ears are incessantly burning. maybe you can order delivery? but that means you're going to have to clean up afterward, and you did NOT want to clean anything at the moment, especially with the state you're in.

shaking your head, you bring your mug back to the kitchen counter and search for a spoon.

"water for hot chocolate? i'm disappointed, sweetie."

you jump, an "oh, fuck!" leaving your mouth. sylus had materialized in front of you, a plastic bag in his left hand and a present box in his right. not like you noticed though. you were too startled by his sudden appearance. "what the fuck, sylus?! can't you knock?!"

"no," he deadpans, placing the bag and box on the kitchen counter. his fingers make quick work of untying the double knot on the bag. "besides," he spares you a glance. "i don't think someone who uses water to make their hot chocolate deserves a knock."

you roll your eyes. of course he fixates on that and doesn't explain why he's in your crappy apartment slandering you instead of downing at LEAST three glasses of wine in his luxurious penthouse on christmas day too. "well, screw me for being lazy, i guess," you mumble, crossing your arms.

"don't tempt me."

"huh?"

"what?"

you shoot him a look before grabbing your mug and heading to the other side of the kitchen counter. sitting on your squeaky high chair, you ask, "why are you here, sylus?"

he takes out a styrofoam container and opens its lid. immediately, the comforting smell of miso greets you. as sylus opens a cabinet to retrieve a pot (you don't question how he knows where to find it), you try to look at what else is in the plastic bag. tilting your upper body, you notice another container and hope it has some rice inside. what you don't notice is sylus' breath hitching when he turns back to you after pouring the miso soup into the pot and turning on the stove.

you were wearing a nice, loose top in your favorite color. except, its neck portion was completely cut off, leaving your collarbone and shoulders deliciously exposed. and because you were leaning on your side to take a look at what he had brought you (he loves when you're curious about anything involving him), the sleeve was slowly yet surely sliding down your arm, threatening to show a cup of your bra.

sylus instantly turns back to the stove, even though the miso soup shows no signs of boiling. rubbing a hand over his face, he shakes his head. no, he's not here to ogle at you (the top looks really good on you, and fuck, did your bra cup your breasts really nicely). he's here to take care of you. earlier, mephisto alerted him you were taking some cough drops. and knowing you, you probably didn't have any food on hand to sustain you through your sickness, given his last (secret) visit to your apartment to stock your (empty) fridge. taking a deep breath, sylus returns to the kitchen counter, reaching for the other container. he notices your inquisitive eyes.

"i'm here because it's christmas." he opens the container, and to your delight, it's omurice. marveling at how fluffy the omelette looks and how savory the fried rice appears, you almost miss his answer.

"huh?" you frown. "you're here because it's christmas?"

"is that not what i just said?" sylus jests as he plates the omurice and places it in your microwave.

"well," you start carefully. "shouldn't you have better things to do? like take luke and kieran shopping or pop open another bottle of wine because woo! christmas!"

the silver-haired man shakes his head with a chuckle, propping his hands on the kitchen counter. you try not to focus on his exposed forearms too much. forget the omurice and miso soup; you'll take his arms instead.

"first of all, luke and kieran are busy—"

"on christmas?!"

"yes, sweetie, on christmas." he raises a brow at you for interrupting. you drag your sleeve back up sheepishly.

"second of all, what makes you think i haven't already indulged in a bottle of wine today?" he tilts his head and crosses his arms, gazing at you with a hint of amusement in his ruby eyes.

you pout and look away. "fair point, i guess."

enjoying your cute reaction, sylus returns his attention to the stove. pleased to find the miso soup boiling, he turns off the stove and takes out a bowl from your cabinet (again, how does he know where to find that?). using a ladle to pour into the bowl, he hums a little tune. you try not to snicker at how terrible he sounds. after sliding a bowl of soup and a plate of omurice to you, sylus plants his elbows on the counter and rests his chin on a palm, allowing him a perfect view of his beloved (though you don't know you're his beloved yet; luke and kieran called him a loser before getting their asses handed to them).

"uh," you look at sylus, then at the food, and then sylus again. "you're not going to eat?"

he shakes his head. "i already ate before coming here."

hesitantly, you pick up your utensils. "you know you technically haven't answered my question, right?"

"i'll tell you once you finish." sylus responds immediately. it's almost as if he knew what you were going to say.

no longer wanting to torture your stomach, you cut into the omurice and take a bite. "mmm!" you cover your mouth as you chew. the softness of the egg, the savoriness of the fried rice—oh, you're in heaven. "this tastes really good, sylus!" you take a sip of the miso soup as well. not only does the warm broth soothe your throat, but the spice that comes with it clears up your sinuses, ceasing the burn in your ears.

the man in front of you can't help but smile at the sight. you, in your most vulnerable, beautiful state, enjoying his cooking. he could die a happy man here. and it wouldn't be the first time his cause of death is you. not that he minds or anything.

"thank you, sylus." you take a few more bites before swallowing. "seriously, i needed this."

"i know, sweetie," he says gently. "i know."

you glare at him, but not with as much malice as you used to. "did mephisto snitch on me or something?"

sylus lets out a laugh before grabbing the present box and joining you on the other side of the counter. "he simply saw a poor little hunter in need of some saving."

"since when does being sick mean needing saving?" you mutter as you set your utensils down, having finished the meal. you make a mental note to ask where he got the food. you're definitely going to visit wherever this exquisite meal came from (the man sitting next to you would die if he knew you wanted to visit his place).

sylus hands you the present box, causing your eyes to widen as you finally process its existence. "merry christmas, sweetie."

instead of accepting it, you jump out of your seat and dash to your room, though not without yelling a "wait here!" your heart beats rapidly as you open your closet door, your eyes landing on a small box wrapped in glossy black paper. yes, you were planning on spending christmas alone. yes, you were planning on giving this to sylus as nonchalantly as possible AFTER christmas (as much as he infuriates you, you still wanted to gift him something. why? you're not sure). and yet, here you are, holding the gift to your chest as you sprint back to the kitchen. "here," you pant as you thrust your gift into his lap. "merry christmas, sylus."

now it's his turn to be surprised. peering at what you just put in his lap, sylus can't help but blush profusely. you gifted him something. you actually gifted him something. you went out of your way to buy something for him. you thought of him. sylus brings a hand to his mouth, his fingers gripping the sides of his face hard. oh, you're too much. it's taking him everything to not crash himself into you and hold you tightly with his arms, to press himself so deeply into you until there is no chance in heaven or hell you could be separated from him.

"sylus?" you snap him out of his thoughts. "you okay?"

he blinks. "ah." releasing his face from his grip, sylus looks at you with a composed smile. "i'm alright, sweetie. thank you for the gift," he says as he starts unwrapping.

"it's not much," you say shyly. "thank you for your gift too. i'll open it after you finish opening yours."

sylus nods as he opens the box. his lips part when he finds what lies inside. a pair of black gloves, thermal lined with genuine fleece and adorned with adjustable straps. but most importantly, embroidery by your hands. he could recognize your handiwork anywhere thanks to your previous adventure in the grasslands. the white dove delicately sewn into the wrist of the right glove and the initials of his name intricately engraved into the wrist of the left. the man can't help but smile for the umpteenth time tonight. you really were something else.

"i noticed you wear fingerless gloves whenever you ride your motorcycle," you start as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. "as stylish as they are, mr. sylus," you tease. "i think it's better to have gloves that keep you warm during late-night joyrides, especially now since it's winter." finding the courage to grin at him, you conclude your explanation with, "merry christmas, sylus."

sylus swears he sees an angel sitting next to him. how could you not be an angel? with the way you're smiling at him right now? and the amount of thought you put into this gift? (he's trying not to obsess over the fact that you observe him whenever he rides his motorcycle.) the head of onychinus has never believed in angels. but now, he does. thanks to you.

"thank you, sweetie," he tries to say as calmly as possible. "i will cherish them." when he attempts to put the gloves on, you stop him.

"wait, you don't need to put them on yet! you're going to get hot."

"it's fine," sylus assures as he secures the straps. "i want to."

"okay," you flush, happy that he likes the gift. "let me open yours now."

you wonder why his box is so heavy as your fingers rip off the tape. a gasp escapes your mouth as the wrapping paper falls to the ground. "sylus," you tremble. "i can't accept this."

a record player. a sleek, gorgeous record player with an obsidian platter, supported by a mahogany base and a crystal case. you stroke the tonearm, dragging your index finger all the way to the headshell and relishing in the cool feeling the metal provides. "sylus…" you trail off.

"there's more, sweetie." he murmurs. out of thin air, sylus materializes several vinyls with his evol. your eyes widen, recognizing the images that lie at the center of each disc.

"oh my god, sylus!" your favorite band, he got you vinyl records of each album from your favorite band. they've never even had vinyl records before. holy fucking shit. "sylus!" you chant excitedly, leaping into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. "sylus! you shouldn't have! oh my god!"

you jump up and down eagerly, leaving the man stunned in his chair. his arms are outstretched, unsure what to do for the first time ever. you freeze, realizing the position you are in. "oh uh," you quickly retract from him, a red hue forming on your cheeks. "sorry about that." you go to sit back down in your chair, but sylus doesn't let you. he pulls you back to him with an arm around your waist and a hand at the back of your head. standing at full height, the head of onychinus hugs you tightly, so tightly it's as if he never wants to let you go. you hesitate before returning the hug, questioning the man's motives. but he doesn't say or do anything. just stands embracing you. realizing he bears no ill will, you pat his back playfully. "you know i'm sick, right?"

his grip doesn't loosen. "yes, i know."

"you're going to get sick, sylus," you tease, trying to pull away. as much as you appreciate his warmth, the last thing you want is for him to get sick. just the thought of it strikes fear in your heart. you're not sure why. "come on, let go."

sylus sighs before untangling his arms and sitting back down. he'll give in for now. besides, he wouldn't trade that elated look on your face when he revealed the records for anything in the world. he supposes he can enjoy such a view some more.

you giggle excitedly as you examine the vinyl records. "oh, should i play this one first? oh, what about this one? no way! you got this one too?!"

as always, you don't catch the woozy, lovesick smile that appears on sylus' face as he folds his arms and leans back to admire you. if this is what christmas with you is going to look like in the future, sylus desperately hopes you'll spend every christmas with him from now on. but, just to be sure, because nothing is guaranteed in the future, he follows your example and says for the second time of the night, "merry christmas, sweetie."

[1rabong]

More from Shall these Bones Live by @undercat-overdog

+ one of my fav scenes with Sauron Being Horrible (again)

[velvetinkkwrites]

“Don’t let me go,” she breathed, fingers curling over Vi’s wrist beside the cuff. Caitlyn saw it for what it was now – the physical manifestation of something intrinsic, something they never could have seen with their own eyes. An invisible path that had led Caitlyn straight into Vi’s life, everything that had happened between then and now. The many messy, bloody ties that bound them. “Whatever happens.”

Commissioned artwork by the incredibly talented cvntiny (@cvntiny) for From Inside the Trees.

Read it on ao3

[cryptic-underground]

He Used To Be so Bright, Then Life Stole It.

If you squint, you'll see something that alludes to the fic I'm writing. (Which finally has a name, it's: "Ring Around the Pine Tree." Might change it when I ended up posting it, but this is the name I like for now).

I thought of this idea late yesterday night whilst procrastinating writing said fic(still writing Chapter 2, smh(it's like 5k words so far compared to other chapters mere 1k combined)). And I kept thinking about a certain sentence I wrote, then I spiraled. Drew all the sketches the same night, did all the line art upon waking up, and then spent like 4-5 hours colouring and shading them all in ONE SITTING. Without moving from where I was sitting the whole time. I almost postponed the last one for tomorrow because I really wasn't feeling colouring Ford, but then the dark part of my brain was like "what it's just one more and then you're done the whole thing! Then you can do other stuff tomorrow without having one more unfinished drawing sitting around."

So I blacked out, and he was done. The frustrating part was saving all the pngs because I'm insane and did this all on one canva, meaning I kept forgetting to both turn on certain layers as well as turn others off. (I had to resave certain ones multiple times, it was a NIGHTMARE).

The full images because I worked too hard on them for them to be seen for just a second:

[nobluesea]

A blow straight through the heart.

Fic so good it ended me my art slump

The image quality got messed up, click here for a better version

[kingsofeverything]

1542

[spicycinnabun]

“What?” Eddie asked. Steve was laughing his ass off at him for no apparent reason. Eddie narrowed his eyes. “What is it? Steven, you better tell me—or are you such a lightweight that you’re already wasted?”

They were sitting on a blanket in the grass. Around them in the open field, people danced to the music, drank by the fire, smoked, and yelled nonsense.

Steve was only on his first beer, as far as Eddie knew. Hardly seemed enough to get the Keg King tipsy, let alone drunk. No, Steve seemed sober except for the sudden giggle fit at Eddie’s expense.

“Wish I could take a picture of you right now,” Steve said once he calmed down, which wasn’t an answer that made sense at all.

“What the fuck. Why?”

Steve grinned. “Besides the fact that you’re cute as hell—”

Eddie choked on his spit, blushing suddenly and furiously.

“—you’ve got a bunch of fireflies in your hair.”

Unbeknownst to Eddie, several of them had landed on him and nested in his curls, blinking light at odd intervals and making him look like a human Christmas tree.

pt. 2 🔥🪰

[raven-dor]

you took my breath away

in which gwayne hightower reunites with his wife at the battle of rook’s rest

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x fem!reader, gwayne hightower x wife!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x SISTER!reader

WARNINGS: angst, typical HOTD violence, kissing, arguing, VV FLUFFY ENDING

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

🎶 : Fallingforyou - The 1975

AN: 🩵♥️💗 - the children’s names are ALYSSA + GAEMON!! heavily inspired by a comment on my masterlist!! saw it and absolutely ran with it, hope you guys enjoy!!

“Alyssa, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you may wake up and ride Morning.” 

The young girl smiled, burying herself into her blankets. “Do you promise, Mother?” 

“I promise.” Her voice broke as she spoke, smiling quickly. “Now go to sleep.” 

“Is that a new riding dress?” Alyssa’s eyes lulled shut as she spoke. 

“It is..” She laughed, kissing Alyssa’s forehead gently. “Try and get some rest.” 

“I love you, Mother.” 

“I love you, my darling.” 

The woman stood up, tucking her daughter in before walking out of the room, smiling at the maid that passed by. “Please see to it that the children have their favorite breakfast made.” 

The maid nodded. “Of course, my lady. Is that all?” 

“Yes, thank you.” She waited until the girl rounded the corner to start running. She hadn’t wanted to alarm anyone or make any of her servants think that she’d left her husband.

Not that the corridors she walked down were populated. It had been hours since dusk, the last servant she’d seen had been by her children’s rooms. 

After living in Oldtown for longer than she cared to admit, she knew this tower like the back of her hand. In the early years of her marriage, she admitted that her knowledge of the castle was lacking, which is when she discovered that her husband had made a servant help her find her way, worried she would get lost. 

He was always so thoughtful. 

So thoughtful, she knew it was only a matter of time before he realized she’d spent too long putting the children to sleep, and he would leave their shared chambers with the sole purpose of finding her. She picked up the pace, pushing the side door open that led to the dragon pit. Not many knew of its location as it was out of sight of the fortress. Only the Hightower family and its few dragon keepers knew where it stood. 

It wasn’t large by any means, but Gwayne had built it for her. When they’d taken Daeron to ward, and Alyssa had claimed her dragon, he’d had the best dragon pit lords brought in to aid with the addition process. It was nothing compared to the dragon pit she’d grown up with, but it was large enough to house the three Hightower dragons, and it was perfect to her. 

She had been beyond proud when her daughter claimed her dragon, Morning, at her last family visit to King’s Landing. Alyssa had only been eight, the second youngest dragon rider after her Aunt Rhaenyra. Alyssa’s grandfather had been even prouder, hosting a celebration feast in her honor, much to the Alicent’s dismay. A deep groan echoed through the pit, Silverwing’s snout peaking from her cave. Y/N’s hand fell to her stomach, caressing it gently, before approaching her dragon. “Lyka, ñuha prūmia.” (Quiet, my heart.)

Climbing the saddle, she wrapped her arm with the reigns like she had a hundred times before. She leaned forward, laying her cheek against the dragon’s scales, humming lightly. “Īlon're jāre lenton, Silverwing.” (We're going home, Silverwing.)

Silverwing practically purred, stretching her wings beneath the light of the moon. 

“My love.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened, straightening her spine, her husband’s deep blue eyes meeting hers. Silverwing purred yet again; she had loved him husband since the day you had. 

“Gwayne.” Y/N’s tone was cold, colder than it had ever been while addressing him. 

“I heard you telling the children goodnight. When will you return?” His voice was wavering as if he was forcing himself to remain calm, but she could tell he was itching to tell her to stay. “They will-” 

“Do not bring them into this.” She looked down at the reigns. “The children will be fine.”

“And when they ask where their mother has gone? What then?” His calm facade had faded, he sounded tired, and ragged with grief. Her heart ached to hold him: he had told her the stories of his mother, how she’d left him so young. While she did not want the same for their children, she had to help her sister. “Stay, and I swear to you we will fight for your sister.” 

“When? In two years time? Gwayne, I cannot continue the way we have. I am loyal to the true heir, to my sister. Surely you can-” 

“Have you truly been so miserable? My heart lies with you, as it always has. I cannot stand that usurper king either, and yet I continue on. For your sake, for our children’s sake. You know he would not hesitate to kill us all.” 

“So you cower? You cower when Rhaenyra needs you most? When I need you most?” She tightened her pull, preparing to flee. He had always been her weakness, and she could not back out. Not this time. “You are not the man I thought you were.” 

“How-” He stumbled backward as if she had stabbed him in the heart. “I have loved you with every bit of my being-” 

“And it is not enough!” She yelled, an uncomfortable silence falling over them. 

His voice was quiet, a mere whisper that was only carried by the night’s breeze. “Then I am sorry I have let you down.” 

“Tell the children I love them.” Gwayne watched as his wife flew away, his hair flying out of his face from the force of her dragon’s wings. That had not hurt him, not sent him into shock or despair. The pain of knowing that she’d left them rang through him, and he turned away, stalking back toward the castle a broken man.

“I love you, Mother.”

“I love you, my darling.”  

Her mother was elegant, standing quickly before gently tucking her in before leaving the room. Alyssa waited until she heard her footsteps turn into nothing before rolling out of bed. She ran to her wardrobe, pulling on her flying robes with ease. Alyssa had known, as hard as her mother had tried to hide it, that she was leaving. 

The Lady Hightower was a proud woman. Of course, she was. Born a Targaryen, she had every right to be proud, everyone always said that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. Alyssa liked to think she was more Targaryen than Hightower. She loved her father, but she felt alive when she flew her dragon.

When she sat in the sept like her Aunt Alicent taught her, she felt as if she could fall asleep. 

Opening her door as quietly as she could, she tiptoed down the hallway, following the path to the dragon pit. She’d almost reached the door that led outside when her brother’s voice called after her. “Lyssa? What are you doing?” 

She sighed, throwing her head back in annoyance. “Gaemon, go to bed.” 

“Not until you tell me where you’re going.” 

She turned around, hissing. “I’m following Mother.” 

His eyes grew teary. By the gods, he was tiresome. “Is she leaving us?” 

Alyssa clenched her fists. “She doesn’t want to leave us, she wants to help her sister.” 

“Aunt Helaena?” 

Her brother needed to visit the library. “Aunt Rhaenyra. The true-born Queen.” She felt proud when she said it, but Gaemon only looked lost. “Swear you won’t tell Father I’ve gone.” 

He nodded. “I won’t tell because I am coming with you.” He puffed his chest. “I want to help.” 

She laughed. “You? With what dragon?” 

“I can claim one, just like you did.” His bottom lip jutted out, and she fought the urge to groan. 

“Fine, fine. Just promise you will stay quiet.” 

She’d always loved Oldtown at night. It was quiet, peaceful compared to how busy it was during the day. Her favorite time to fly was late, long past dusk when no one could see her or judge her for her choice of clothing. 

“My love.” 

Alyssa’s heart stopped. There stood their father, confronting their mother. Gaemon whined. “I hate it when they fight.” 

“They have not even begun to fight, Gaemon.” 

“That is why I hate it.” He squeezed her hand. “It is starting.” 

“I heard you, telling the children goodnight. When will you return?” Their father continued. Alyssa’s eyes welled, she hated seeing her father so upset. “They will-” 

“Do not bring them into this. The children will be fine.” 

“And when they ask where their mother has gone? What then?” Their father’s voice sounded upset, angry with their mother for leaving. Alyssa could feel Gaemon pulling away. 

“Stay, and I swear to you we will fight for your sister.” 

“When? In two years time? Gwayne, I cannot continue the way we have. I am loyal to the true heir, to my sister. Surely you can-” 

As much as she wanted to listen to her parents, Gaemon was young and fragile, hearing this talk would only upset him further. She grabbed his hand, pulling him further into the dragon pit. “Come, Gaemon. There is a tunnel that leads to Morning’s cave.”

“But Mother-” 

“We will see Mother soon.” 

“And Papa?” 

Her heart twisted, pretending she had not heard him. “Morning has missed you. If you behave, I will let you feed her first.” 

Dragonstone was so beautiful in the early morning, the way the sun hit the sea just so. Not long ago, she had accompanied her sister to retrieve their brother’s egg. She had even brought Gwayne mere weeks after their courtship had begun. No one inhabited Dragonstone then, and they had fully taken advantage of the fact. 

Her cheeks grew red thinking of it, that this had been the first place they’d kissed. 

Now her sister resided in their ancestral home. 

She knew that the Queen’s council would be wary of her arrival. Being the Lady Hightower, many expected her to be loyal to the new King. The lords who advised her sister had forgotten that she was a Targaryen, a Princess of royal birth, the youngest daughter of their beloved King Viserys and Queen Aemma. While she loved her husband deeply, she remained loyal to her sister, as she always had been. 

Silverwing dove, landing gracefully on the clearing adjacent to Dragonstone. Sliding off her saddle, Y/N laid her forehead against Silverwing’s cheek, whispering her thanks before approaching the soldiers that stood guard.

“Who goes there?” 

“Princess Y/N Targaryen. The Lady of Oldtown.” The guards looked at each other suspiciously. She couldn’t blame them, the Hightowers were the entire reason this war had started. She sighed. “I am the Queen’s sister.” 

“Aunt.” Her niece emerged from the shadows, dismissing the two men. “How wonderful you could join us.” 

“I sense you are less than happy to see me.” She walked past her, straight into the castle. “That will change.” The castle was dark, the candles doing little to illuminate its halls. 

“You are mistaken.” Baela laughed. “I fear we need your help now more than ever.” 

“Oh?” She frowned. “What has happened?” 

“The small council,” Baela whispered, the servants in front of them pushing the great doors open, their ancestor’s Painted Table coming into view. “They grow tired laying in wait.” 

“I see.” She allowed a faint smile to grace her face, showing her niece she had no ill will. “Then I am glad to be of help.” 

“Y/N?” 

Her eyes welled, her arms widening as her nephew ran to her. “Jaceaerys.” She hugged him tightly. “You are a man-grown.”

“I am glad you are here-” 

“My Prince.” Sir Erryk interrupted. “Another dragon has landed.” 

“Another?” Jaceaerys looked near murderous. Y/N could not blame him, her half-brothers were erratic, never stopping to think about what their actions might do to others. However, Aegon was not stupid enough to show up alone, and Aemond was too proud to let Aegon confront their sister. 

“Allow me to accompany you.” Y/N hooked her arm through her nephews. “I should like to see my dear little brother again.” 

Jaceaerys laughed. “I will enjoy you humbling my mother’s council.”

The sun had fully risen by the time they left the castle. The dragon was far back, far enough so that they could not make out the face of its rider. Even from a distance, both could tell that it was neither Vhagar nor Sunfyre. It was not small by any means, but its build was quainter than that of Vhagar or Sunfyre’s. Not to mention, its scales were pink, a color neither of the older dragons possessed. “Whose-” Y/N’s blood went cold. The only pink dragon she could name was- 

Jaceaerys looked over, tilting his head. “Is everything alright, Aunt?” 

“That dragon is my-”

“Mother!” 

“Mama!” 

She raced down the path, grabbing her children and holding them close, inspecting them for injuries. Jace just laughed, a hand covering his mouth. “Baela will enjoy this.”  

The council, as her niece had said, was power-hungry by nature. With her sister absent, they seemed to pounce at the chance to silence Jaceaerys and her aunt. She turned away from the fire, setting her hands on the table as she brazenly interrupted. “I must say, Ser Broome, you are quite comfortable interrupting the heir to the Iron Throne.” The older man sat back in his chair, silent. “Have you recently come into a title that allows you to do so?” 

He shook his head. “No, Princess.” 

“Then I suggest, in the future, you hold your tongue.” Her smile was curt, looking back to her nephew.  “As you were saying, My Prince.”

“We must send a dragon.” 

“Where?” The council stood, bowing their heads as Rhaenyra walked into the room. 

“Sister.” 

Rhaenyra’s once sullen face grew joyous as Y/N approached her. “How long have you been here?” 

“I arrived only yesterday.” Y/N leaned forward, whispering. “Where have you-” 

Jaceaerys cleared his throat. “To support the war your vassals have been fighting in your absence… Your Grace.” 

Rhaenys interjected. “Cole’s host has grown since riding abroad. He raised the levies of both Rosby and Stokeworth and with their combined strength sacked Duskendale.” 

Ser Darklyn stepped forward. “Duskendale?” 

“The city has fallen. Many Darklyn men declared for Aegon. Those who refused were put to the sword.” 

“What of my father?” 

“He kept his oath. Cole took his head for it.”

“Where have you been, these last days?” Y/N could tell her nephew was getting tired of his mother’s antics, eager to prove himself to her as they both had been with their father. “You vanished without so much as a word.” 

“Well I apologize for my absence and the secrecy, but such was necessary. I went to King’s Landing.” 

“To what possible end?” 

“To meet Queen Alicent and sue for peace.” 

“You saw Alicent?” 

“I did.” 

Y/N did not know whether to laugh or to stop her nephew.

“You could have been taken or slain!” 

“I inherited eighty years of peace from my father. Before I was to end it, I needed to know there was no other path. And now I do.” 

Y/N smiled, placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “He would be proud, I know it.” 

Rhaenyra looked melancholy at best. “Only one choice remains to me: either I win my claim or die.” 

“Cole’s victories have only emboldened him. He marches on Rook’s Rest.” 

“His host was just hours away when Lord Staunton’s ravens took wing.” 

“Why Rook’s Rest? After Duskendale? It is but a small coastal keep.” 

Y/N nodded. “A small coastal keep that is mere leagues from Dragonstone.” 

“Lord Staunton is a member of this council. His castle is small and vulnerable and there for the taking. Cole knows that we have no army on the mainland.” 

“He is brazen.” 

“He is daring us to act.” 

“We need to send a dragon.” Jace once again insisted.

“There are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing. I will go.” 

“You cannot.” Jace looked tired. 

“I will not lose dragons to the war whilst I hide here in my castle.” 

“Our ally raise their banners for you, Mother. If you die, all is lost.” Jaceaerys puffed his chest. “Send me.” 

“No.” Rhaneyra laughed. Y/N laughed as well, but it had been for a different reason. It had not been long ago when Rhaenyra herself had drove her father mad, now her son did the same. 

“I will burn Cole’s lines and withdraw before King’s Landing could even raise the-” 

“You lack the experience.” 

“Then send me, sister.” Y/N interrupted. “They will be caught off guard by the Lady Hightower attacking. I am sure of it.” 

Rhaenys nodded. “Send me as well, Your Grace. Meleys is your second-largest dragon and no stranger to battle. I will meet Cole.” 

“Mother-” Alyssa whispered, pulling on her sleeve. “Please do not-” 

“Alyssa.” Y/N hissed. “What did I say?” 

“Do not interrupt,” Alyssa whined. “But Father-” 

“Alyssa.” Y/N knelt, holding her daughter’s hands in hers. “You must know I would never harm your father. Trust me, everything will be fine.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Swear to me you shall stay here and look after your brother.” 

“I swear.” The young girl smiled, her eyes watering. “I swear, Mother.” 

The soldiers cowered in fear at the sight of Meleys and Silverwing flying above them. They began to scream in terror as they both rained fire on them. Y/N pat her dragon’s back, tightening her harness. “Sȳz, ñuha riña.” (Good, my girl.) Her eyes flickered to the tree line, her blood curdling when she saw her husband’s armor glimmering in the mid-day sun. Her heart beat faster as she watched her Aunt fly straight toward Aegon. 

Sunfyre had always had a sweet disposition, and it broke Y/N to know that by the end of this battle, the dragon would not be with them. It had not, however, broken her to think of her half-brother’s death. 

A deep roar echoed through the air, the hairs on her neck raising instantly. Vhagar’s head broke the clearing, heading straight for the pair of wrestling dragons. Y/N pulled the reigns, racing toward the older dragon before it could attack Meleys. “Dracarys, Silverwing, Dracarys!” A great stream of fire left her mouth, hitting Vhagar’s side. The older dragon let out a pained cry, erratically flapping her wing, desperately trying to rid herself of the pain. 

Y/N flinched, gasping as she helplessly watched the wing smack Silverwing, knocking the younger dragon out in a single moment. “Silverwing, daor! Wake bē riña, wake bē!” (Silverwing, no! Wake up girl, wake up!) 

Silverwing began to plummet, straight into the forest. She screamed, cried, anything to wake her dragon before they both met their deaths. “Sōvegon! gaomagon mirros, uēpa riña!” (Fly! Do anything, old girl!) The dragon remained gone to the world. Y/N sobbed, slapping her hands on her dragon’s side. “Wake bē!” (Wake up!) 

Silverwing’s eyes cracked open, frantically slapping her wings, fear evident in her movements. Y/N cried, reassuring her. “Mirre kessa sagon sȳrī, Silverwing. Mirre kessa-” (All will be well, Silverwing. All will-) 

Gwayne could only watch in horror at the battle that played out before him. Even during his days as a mere foot soldier, they had been civilized and honorable. There was no honor in this fight, in this war, in the men leading it. Criston Cole, who treated his soldiers with disdain, also treated his new position as Lord Hand with equal care. Now here the Dornish man stood, ordering Gwayne around as if he was just a mere foot soldier once more. Not to mention, his wife left him and had planned to leave without so much as a letter. He would have thought after their many years of blissful union, she would have thought to tell him of her plan. That had hurt more than her departure. 

In the end, he was not shocked she had gone. His wife was loyal, and he could not blame her for her actions. He would have done the same for his own sister. 

When the servants had told him his children had also left, he had truly become a wreck. He had been sitting at his place at their dining table when they’d told him. Their favorites had been already placed on their plates, now cold, while he sobbed in the dining hall. And there he stood, feeling just as empty, when he saw his wife’s dragon emerge from the clouds. 

By the gods. 

He swore then not only to his family but to himself, that he would be with her again, with his children again, even if that meant betraying his family. Not that his sister’s children or his own father had acted as a true family in the first place. Family was a system of connections to them, to the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. He and his wife, the woman that she was, had together made it much more. 

She was, in his eyes, perfection itself. 

He remembered, not long ago, she had convinced him to fly to Dragonstone. When they had been there, laying on the lawn in front, she’d told him what she wanted for the future. She swore to him, mere weeks into their courtship, that if they married, their children would be good, instead of the spoiled nobility they’d come to know, spreading greed and hurt. 

That had made him surge forward, kissing her soundly. 

He kissed her as often as he could after that moment. That moment, that promise, had been what made him ask the King for her hand in marriage days later. 

She was too good for this world, a world that was constantly fighting. And her family, he told himself, she was too good for them too. 

The same went for his children. 

And now, as he watched his wife’s dragon fall from the sky, one thing raced through his mind. He needed her like the very air that filled his lungs. He left his men without a second thought, racing across the battlefield, his only goal to reach her. 

“Y/N” A voice rang through the clearing Silverwing had created. “Y/N?” 

She groaned, her ears ringing. Her entire body ached from the impact, her head felt pulsing as she rolled over. “Who-” Everything came rushing back, the battle, her aunt, Silverwing falling. Forcing herself up, she reached down, grabbing her dagger from her leg holster. “Whoever you are, think twice before-” 

“Y/N!” Gwayne jumped off his horse, running toward her. “I saw you falling, and I-” 

“Get back.” She glared. “I do not need your assistance.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You just fell from-” His arms flailed toward the sky. “I thought you were dead!” 

“I am sure you would have been thrilled.” She turned her back, scanning the woods for any sign of Silverwing. She loosened her harness while she was falling, scared that Silverwing would crush her, would crush- 

“I feel sorry for you.” 

“You feel sorry for- Ah!” Her stomach twisted, and she winced, caressing it lightly. “It’s alright, darling.” 

Gwayne’s voice was a mere whisper, so close that his breath grazed her neck. “What did you say?” 

“I said-” She whipped around, glaring. “You-” 

“Are you-” He looked hopeful, excited even.

“Gwayne, do me the courtesy of not revealing my location to your precious Lord Hand.” 

“Do you truly think so little of me?” He sounded desperate. “I love you, I have for as long as I have known you, and it-” He grabbed her hand, laying it over his heart. “I have only lived for you and for our children, you must know that?” 

She ripped her hand from his hold, her eyes tearing up. “I apologize for assuming otherwise. I should have told you, but I did not, and you cannot fault me for that!” 

“I am not faulting you! I have not held it against you, even when our children flew after you! I knew in my heart, that you were right, that you were doing what your heart led you to do. It is one of your best qualities, the very thing that drew me to you in the first place.” His eyes were tearing up as well. “You- you make me-” 

“What?” She yelled. “What exactly do I make you? Angry, upset, murderous?” 

“Crazed!” He yelled back, walking up to her and grabbing her face with his hands. “I love you, desperately!” 

Tears fell from her eyes faster than ever, she could not tell what exactly had caused it. It could be the exhaustion, or the adrenaline hitting her all at once. Or perhaps it was because when her eyes met his, she felt as if she was a young girl again, being wooed by the handsome knight. “Gwayne…” She grasped his hand tightly. “Come with me. Leave this all behind. I know the loss of your seat in the Lord’s Council will hurt, but you’ve never loved the pressure it brings you. Our children…” She smiled. “Will be happy around their family, around the very people who will never judge them. My love-” She took a deep breath, her eyes full of desperation. “I need you.” 

His arm wrapped around her waist. “I-” 

“If you do not wish to come with me, just say it.” Her eyes were red by now, there was no doubt. “Perhaps we should go our seper-” 

“I will do anything you ask of me. Anything.” 

“Then come with me.” She pleaded. “Come wit-” 

Gwayne collided his lips against hers, pulling her closer than she’d ever thought possible. Her heart began to pound, harder than it ever had during a kiss, and the next thing she knew, the world was going dark, a dragon’s snout nudging her side before everything went black.

Bright orange light shone through the curtains, a warm breeze dancing through the room. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her heart beaming at the sight in front of her. She groaned, pushing herself to sit up in her bed. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. “My darlings.”

“Mother!” Alyssa all but jumped out of her chair. Gaemon, her perfect boy, was peacefully asleep in the seat beside her, his little fingers reaching out for hers. Her eyes watered, grabbing his hand gently. 

Gwayne was pacing on the terrace, his auburn hair glowing in the sun. He looked like an angel, a worried angel indeed. 

Alyssa hugged her mother tightly, her face buried in her neck. “You’re awake!” 

She nodded, grinning. “Alyssa, will you please take your brother on a tour of the castle?” 

“But-” Y/N raised an eyebrow, caressing her daughter’s cheek. “Yes, Mother.” Alyssa groaned,  walking around the bed and impatiently tapping her brother’s shoulder. “Gaemon, wake up.” 

“But what if Mother-” He rubbed his eyes, jumping onto Y/N without a second thought. “Mama!” 

“My boy.” She kissed his temple delicately. “Run along with your sister. I will be here when you return, I swear it.” 

She waited until they’d left the room to stand. Walking across the cold stone floor, she stood at the threshold of the balcony, leaning her head against the archway. “Gwayne, there’s something I must tell you.” He made no effort to face her, her stomach curling. “It’s rather delicate…” 

“I know.” He stopped, staring at her, his eyes wide. “I know.” 

“How?”

“The maester.” He stepped forward, his voice steady as he gestured toward her stomach. “May I?” 

She nodded, words refusing to leave her. He knew. During the fall, she wasn’t sure the babe would survive, but with the nauseous feeling in her stomach, there was no longer a doubt. He knelt, leaning his head gently against her. “Hello, little one.” Y/N’s eyes began to water. “You are quite the brave one, going into battle with your mother so young. When you leave her womb, we shall exchange battle stories.” 

She laughed, a tear falling down her cheek. “Please, do not be upset with me.” 

He looked up, tears falling down his cheeks. “Upset? My love, another child with you is never a reason to be upset.” He stood, leaning his forehead against hers. “I am a truly blessed man. To be your husband is the closest a man can be to the heavens themselves.”

She smiled, kissing his lips gently, her heart almost breaking all over again as she pushed him toward the door. “You must leave before my sister knows you are here.” 

He laughed at her, actually laughed at her. “My darling girl, how do you believe you got here? I carried you into this room myself.” 

“So-” Her lips tickled against his as she spoke. “My sister-” 

“I pledged my support to her as soon as I knew you would survive. I am a man of my word.” He leaned down, pulling his lips to hers. “I will never leave you.” 

Y/N smiled into his kiss. “I love you.” He grinned, spinning her around. She laughed, smacking his arm playfully. “Gwayne, put me down. The babe-” 

“The babe?” The couple looked over, smiling at their children. Alyssa stepped forward. “What babe?” 

“I-” Y/N hid her face in her husband’s neck. “I’m embarrassed.”  

Gwayne laughed, shaking his head as he addressed their children. “Your mother is with child.” 

Alyssa groaned, even as she smiled widely. “Again, Mother?” 

Gaemon’s head fell to the side. “What does with child mean, Father?”

taglist: @beebeechaos @i-padfootblack-things

[ecstarry]

@into-the-jeggyverse / crime / 446 words / @velanavis

It had to mean something, right? James thought to himself. 

An hour ago, their knees had brushed, and Regulus hadn’t moved away. Then, fifteen minutes later, Regulus had leaned in slightly, and their thighs had touched too. Ten minutes after that, their elbows had even pressed together.

James knew he was overthinking it, knew how ridiculous it sounded to interpret these gestures as something meaningful. But this was Regulus.

The same Regulus who, just last year, couldn’t even look James in the eye when he visited Sirius. The boy who took months to seem comfortable being alone in the same room with him.

And now they were here, in Regulus’ room. Both sitting at the edge of his bed, close enough that their knees were bumping and their thighs were touching. Sharing a pair of wired headphones while Regulus passionately explained why it was an absolute crime that James only knew “Creep” by Radiohead—a lie James told just to hear him ramble.

“This one is still pretty famous but I never get tired of listening to it,” Regulus explained in a quiet voice, even with the music playing they were close enough they didn’t need to raise their voices to hear each other. 

James couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty about lying just to get Regulus rambling about something. He loved it. James had picked up on what subjects got Regulus talking. Music was by far the easiest one.

When the last song of the playlist ended, Regulus carefully removed the headphones and began rolling them up.

James panicked. He couldn’t let this end, not yet. His mind scrambled for another band to feign ignorance about.

“Mr. Brightside is the best The Killers song,’” he blurted out.

Regulus chuckled and turned to him, his gaze softening as the blush creeping up James’ neck betrayed him. 

“You don’t have to lie,” Regulus said, his voice as gentle and genuine.

James stuttered, his cheeks flushing hot, but Regulus interrupted before he could form a coherent response.

“I know my brother got his music taste from you. It’s kind of cute that you’re doing all this, but you don’t have to.”

“Why did you play along then?”

Regulus shrugged, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile. “I could never pass up an opportunity to nerd out about Thom Yorke.”

“Right,” James replied, trying to mask the tinge of disappointment in his voice. For a fleeting second, he’d let himself believe Regulus might admit he enjoyed this, enjoyed him.

“And this is nice,” Regulus confessed with a soft smile.  

James froze. “Oh, really? Spending time with me?”

Regulus bumped his knee one more time before standing up, “Don’t push it, James.”

[starlight-eclipsed]

A place to rest.