#█ ▌ ╰ ☾ ╮ ┆ 「thread: Her Knight.」

[arcanaaa]

WHILE SHE COULD SAY WITH CERTAINTY THAT ATTAINED A LEVEL OF SKILL IN TRACKING PEOPLE, LOCATING A RUNAWAY HEIRESS CERTAINLY TESTED CANA'S SKILLS. That the young heiress gave Cana the slip not even an hour after their introduction was impressive and painted quite a picture for the knight that this assignment would not go as smoothly as her brethren led her to believe.

❝ What's hard about guarding a spoiled princess? Relax Alberona-- you'll do fine! ❞

Hah. Sure--easy for them to say.

If her old squad could see her now, they would have collapsed from laughter-- or from the beating she would deal upon them for their disrespectful mockery. They wouldn't understand why she took this assignment so seriously to begin with, and Cana never explained her reasons for why she took the job so quickly. From the moment Jude Heartfilia enlisted the Captain to help select his daughter's new bodyguard, Cana modeled herself as the picture-perfect knight who embodied all the qualities a man like Jude would be looking for. He didn't need to know about her background, nor did he seem to care about her past, which was just Cana's luck:

If Jude had learned that Cana was once Lucy Heartfilia's old friend from her childhood, the likelihood of her keeping the assignment would have been neigh impossible. After all, a nobleman of Jude's standing would never allow a street rat to become close to his only daughter, much less be her friend. What would the court say after all? It just wouldn't do. But ignorance was indeed bliss, and neither Lord Heartfilia, nor his daughter suspected anything damning about Cana's upbringing. The only thing that mattered was her abilities and the determination to perform her assigned duties: of which they were now currently playing an elaborate game of hide and seek.

IT WAS FORTUNATE THAT THE KNIGHT CAUGHT UP TO THE HEIRESS QUICKLY. Though certainly not for a lack of trying on Lucy's part, Cana always had an uncanny sense of finding people-- and with Lucy, Cana was especially attuned to her presence. The moment she spotted her Lady's blonde hair, Cana pounced-- pulling her from her hiding spot, she turned her and pressed her against the wall, pinning her with just her body weight alone. She ensured to treat Lucy gently, as was deserving of her stature; however, whatever grace Lucy would expect from Cana would be in short supply, along with her patience.

❝ @startouching-- if this was a serious attempt to run away, then I apologize for ruining your plan, but I can't allow you to remain unguarded. However, if this was your attempt to play 'hide and seek', I would like to ask that you don't. ❞

Despite her stern words, the Knights' expression grew soft.

❝ ...at least give me some warning if you're going to play these games. ❞

#startouching #█ ▌ ╰ ☾ ╮ ┆ 「partner: startouching.」 #█ ▌ ╰ ☾ ╮ ┆ 「thread: Her Knight.」 #█ ▌ ╰ ☾ ╮ ┆ TEMPERANCE: REVERSED. 「verse: to be tagged.」 #Princess and Knight AU FUCKING LETS GOOOOOOOO!!

[gtgbabie0]

✧My precious boy✧

{Your son is an ugly reminder of the boy Aemond used to be}

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Aenys wasn’t like his brothers, he was more reserved preferring to sit by himself in the library reading about dragons and old Valyria, the boy was only seven yet he knew more about the histories of Westeros then than his siblings.

He had an impeccable talent with the brush, painting beautiful pictures of whatever was on his mind, he often spoke through them more than actual words you found.

Aenys however was dragon-less and often missed out on sword practice much to Aemond’s dismay, “He is seven and has yet even tried to acquaint himself with a dragon let alone even visited the dragon pit” your husband sighs in frustration his arms wrap around your waist bringing your back into his chest.

He stands behind you in contemplation taking in the warmth of your soft body, eye patch discarded somewhere within the room, “Perhaps you should talk to him” you smile taking one of his hands and pressing a meaningful kiss to his knuckles before he moves away from your warmth.

The horrible truth is that Aemond doesn’t know how to talk to Aenys, his youngest son, he doesn’t know to stop seeing his own reflection deep within his child how to stop the burning hate that seems the spread across his skin whenever he looks Aenys in the eyes, the remainder of himself almost taunts Aemond in ways he couldn’t describe, and he hates himself for it.

A horrifying reminder of all Aemond used to be, a fragile, scared little boy who was in desperate need of a gentle loving mother, clinging to her side whenever he felt less than others, and a father that he needed who could show him right from wrong teach him how to be strong so he needn’t clutch at his mother’s dress.

He hates the guilt that drowns his heart whenever he looks at his youngest son, how he wishes he didn’t feel such anguish towards his boy.

He doesn’t reply to your suggestion instead he hums quietly, “Mother!— Mother!” You smile at Aenys who comes running around the corner with a very tired knight following behind him, “Look! I painted this for grandsire” he beams with a huge smile splayed across his face small specs of paint staining his hands and cheeks.

He shows you a beautiful painting of Balerion flying amongst clouds during sunrise, “Oh my precious boy, this is wonderful” a sense of pride blooms in your chest as you look down at your son holding his artwork, “I’m sure Viserys would love this my dear” you smile pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

You glance back at Aemond who isn’t even looking, “My dear isn’t this amazing?” You tug on Aemond’s sleeve trying to catch his attention but you get nothing just a simple ‘hmm’ before he walks away leaving your son with a disappointed smile.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’m sure your father is very impressed” you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “Let’s go take this to Viserys, Hmm?” You suggest as Aenys nods his head enthusiastically, you take his small hand in yours leading him to the king's bed-chambers.

“Aemond, would it kill you to at least try and talk to him? He is your son— he is your blood” you beg, the hour is late and you’re tired but you can’t let another day go by where Aenys is met with isolating silence from his own father, “Please Aemond” it’s a final desperate plea, looking at him as you thread your fingers through his soft hair.

He looks at you with a concern painted over his sharp face moving from your gentle touch, “My sons will learn how to wield sword and shield, my sons will ride dragons, they will become warriors”

Frustration creeps up on you lighting your skin on fire.

“Aenys is no son of mine” it’s a painful thing to say, and the words catch in Aemond’s throat leaving a horrid taste in his mouth.

You look at him with disgust in your eyes and it sends a cold shiver through Aemond's lean body, “How dare you.” You whisper through gritted teeth your nails digging crescent shapes into your palm, “He looks up to you Aemond, it would break his heart to hear you speak like this— talk to your son” you sigh in frustration and there’s an uncomfortable feeling that wedges itself between you and your husband.

“TELL ME HOW!” He screams desperation straining his voice as his eye well up with tears that carry a mean mixture of guilt and anger, “Tell me how— how can I talk to him without feeling hate coursing through my body” his voice trembles, and you’re left in shock.

“And what exactly do you mean by that Aemond?— I would be very careful with your next words if I were you” he looks at you hurt very evident on his face.

Aemond sighs heavily sitting by you on the bed you move away from him slightly, “When I look at him all I see is myself— I am reminded of the things they used to say about me, their laughter mocking me-“ he trails off hands running through his hair, “- I can not stop seeing myself within all, all the terrible memories” he doesn’t make eye contact with you far to scared of your reaction.

“Aemond, you fool— of course, you will see yourself in him, he is your son” you shift closer to him, “Aenys thinks that you hate him for no good reason, and you need to fix that Aemond because I will not stand by and watch anyone, especially his own father treat him with anything other than kindness and respect” You kiss his cheek before standing from the bed.

Aemond looks up at you with curiosity, “There is more to bond over your son with than swords and strength, talk to him about old Valyria, teach him high Valyrian take him to see the dragons, you have more in common than you allow yourself to believe. Talk to your son Aemond, do not take after your father" And with that, you walk out of the room leaving your husband confused and hurt with much to think about.

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☾⋆AN// another piece I found in the depths of my notes app that I’m currently trying to clean up, anyway I hope you enjoyed it!! <3

Requests are open btw! <3

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond imagine #prince aemond

[kylo-wrecked]

@ofcatnaps sent: // Rey's fingertips were bruised and dark and she had most of them strapped tightly to help with the ache that lingered in them from hours upon hours of useless training. To distract herself, she reached out through the Force for connection, for some kind of hope, and it was there that Ren lingered. As much as she wanted to keep herself steady, she had been drawn to his Force signature over and over, so it was no surprise that she'd found him again. ❝ Am I interrupting? ❞ To be truthful, she didn't care. Instead, she pushed through the ache in her body to reach for him, pressing a hand against his chest and relishing in the solidity of him.

Their connection was strong, and she felt the Force singing in her own veins at the touch. ❝ I keep searching for you, every day. Ever since we met, I can't stop searching for you. ❞ ( for soft!ren? )

— ☾ —

Ren’s fingertips burrowed into his palms, created dull tension against their hide surface. The flesh inside numbed by cold. Hours of cold. He was moving about the cabin of a disemboweled Alliance shuttle, examining the cobweb threads of salt and rust on its cortege of beveled viewports and a tangle of greyed-out wires clumped above its mid-left ceiling; a fistful of mortuary ventricles that swayed a little due to the crystalstorm outside. 

He wasn’t alone. The Knights had ducked into an old mining structure to avoid it. Four others sat around the relic of a heater unit Cisor had repaired, talking. Ren left his helm on the curve of a dinged-up dash, this being the first time he’d been able to take it off in a day. Crait’s blinding surface didn’t allow for it. 

“I know,” Ren said after a moment. He was tired and not the least bit surprised by how suddenly Rey bled through the wall panels, yet his expression still read as alarmed, at the least disgruntled, and the solidity of him tensed beneath her hand. Ren could smell the heat rising off her body, a dew-drop breeze coming off her shoulder, but he couldn’t see where she was.

After another moment, almost directly into Rey’s pert flush-and-frown:

“What are you looking for?” 

His eyes didn’t search so much as apply pressure of the sort that could cull diamonds from sheer thought. Unearthing diamonds in a storm, however, posed its risks, as no better demonstrated than the harbinger raging against the blast doors.

#ofcatnaps #sw au | soft!ren: master of the knights #thread tbd #edited: for quality assurance; tenses