#7 foot rat rats along his rats

[justkeepwalkingnothinghere]

Listen, I’m not saying Encanto changed my brain chemistry, but I’m saying Encanto changed my brain chemistry. I finally watched it on New Years Day and I haven’t been the same since.

#Encanto #Family Madrigal has been stuck in my head for the last week #7 foot frame rats along his back #when he calls your name it all fades to black #Yeah he see your dreams and feasts on your screams #We don’t talk about Bruno no no no #We don’t talk about Bruno!

[bucks-babe]

More to Love

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take care of you in every sense of the term; so what if you gain a bit of extra fat because of it?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of past relationships, kind of told in flashbacks, shitty ex boyfriend who forces reader to lose weight (not Bucky), Bucky is so in love it hurts, Bucky takes care of his woman, body insecurity, weight gain because of a healthy relationship, smut, CMNF (only for a little bit), looking in the mirror while on Bucky’s lap (yes, that needs a warning), crying during sex, daddy kink, soft!dom Bucky, so much fluff, no use of Y/N, Bucky calls reader love, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), implied creampie, Bucky loves his girl’s tummy, emotions.

A/N: This is NOT fetishizing weight gain, nor unhealthy habits. Bucky is not forcing the reader to gain weight to make her attractive to him; he loves his girl at any weight and just wants to take care of her. I made this fic because I want to feel like the parts of my body that I’m insecure about can still be desirable. Also this turned out way softer than the drabble, but there is still smut going on. Thank you to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are my own.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, you have noticed how different he is compared to your previous partners. Not just because he is a 6 foot something brick house, but also in the way he treats you. You’ve never experienced such raw and untamed love directed solely at you, or the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, memorizing every quirk and tick you possess. It’s almost overwhelming how much he loves you.

Never before have you felt so comfortable in a relationship. Previous boyfriends never really felt like boyfriends, rather personal trainers. Maybe you were bad at picking them out, but your last partner was a gym rat, constantly obsessing over what he was eating and how many hours he put into the gym that week. The obsession he had for the gym followed through into your relationship. If you wanted to spend time with him, it had to be at the gym. 

He would construct fitness plans for you, saying that the softness of your stomach needed to go to make him happy, and you let him. You don’t know why you let him weasel his way into your head, but he did. Eventually, it went past the gym, and he would only allow you to go to a certain restaurant to eat because the others had way too many unhealthy options, side-eyeing you for ordering a side of fries instead of a salad. Cooking at home became a battle since you weren’t supposed to eat anything fatty or fried, nothing you did was ever good enough for him. 

Over the course of that relationship you did end up losing the extra weight you had, but also weight that you didn’t need to lose, and soon you were “too skinny” and “didn’t have enough meat on your bones for him.” He left you soon after - over text. It was something along the lines of, “I wanted to see if I could make you attractive, but you don’t look good, fat or skinny.” It crushed you. The man that you thought you were in love with, and who loved you, broke your heart. You never gained the weight back, hoping against hope that he could come back and realize he was wrong about you. He never did.

It took you a long time to get over that piece of shit, but what he said about your body never left - you were still terrified to gain weight. But then you met Bucky, and for a while you forgot about that asshole. You had the sweetest, sexiest, kindest man that you were able to call yours, so why would you even think about your past?  It started so slow you didn’t even notice until it was too late. 

You groaned, stretching out in bed, arm reaching out for your boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Squinting, you try to open your eyes, sunlight forcing them to close. After a few tries, you get them open and look at the time - 7:19. Bucky must be back from his morning run. Searching the floor for his henley, you walk into the kitchen to find Bucky cutting up your favorite fruit in a bowl, shirtless. The both of you know that he can hear you walk up to him, hell he probably heard you the moment you woke up, but he humors you when you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he jumps in surprise.

“What’cha doing, honey,” you murmur into his back, peppering it with kisses.

“Makin’ something to eat after runnin’ with Steve all mornin’. Hope I didn’t wake ya up, Love.” You feel the shiver that shoots up his spine at your touch.

“No, I was just about to get up anyway, just so happens that I woke up to this sight.” 

Bucky turns only his head to look down at you, a crooked smile adorning his scruffy face, “And you can wake up to it every day. Now how about you go sit your pretty little ass down on the couch and get our show ready? I’ll be there in a minute.”

You place a chaste kiss to his cheek before slapping his ass on the way out earning a glare from him. Bucky knows that you don’t eat in the morning but he has devised a plan because you not eating in the morning will follow to you only eating at dinner tonight. 

You hear his heavy foot fall as you’re getting comfy on the couch only for him to pick you up and rest his back against the arm of the couch, setting you down in his lap, his chest to your back. He ignores your squeals and settles down. 

While you are watching your show, Bucky is watching you, and before you know it, a piece of pineapple is passing your lips. Chewing happily, you don’t even notice that Bucky has you eating until the deep rumble of ‘good girl’ is whispered in your ear. A deep throb settles in your core as you continue to eat each piece he puts in your mouth, desperate to hear his praise again and again.

That was how it started, Bucky feeding you in the mornings. But it slowly progressed from that. He was always making sure that you’ve eaten your three meals a day, no if, ands or buts. You were an Avenger after all so of course you needed to eat to stay healthy with all the missions and training you go through. Bucky noticed the pudge on your belly coming back way before you did.

“Love, what is this movie even about? I’m so confused.” The smile in his voice was impossible to miss. With him against the headboard and your back resting against his chest, you couldn’t see his face. Whatever explanation you gave, Bucky didn’t hear a word of it. As you repositioned in his lap, you sat up, just a bit, but his hands on your stomach felt it, the small bit of fat soft and warm in his hands. 

To this day you have no idea why Bucky stripped off both of your clothes and pounded you for hours, but he did, and that little bit of soft flesh made him go a little crazy.

During this time you didn’t even realize that you were gaining your weight back because for the first time since you met your last boyfriend, you had so much more energy. You didn’t need extra naps throughout the day, or feel dead tired after doing absolutely nothing. Now, your body had enough nutrients to function properly, the hump of your belly was there because you were healthy. You’ve had it all your life, nothing getting rid of it. To you it made you feel like you were fat, but to Bucky, oh, it showed him that you were a strong, healthy woman.

Everyday after training, you would boast to him about how much better you’ve been doing in training, claiming Natasha said so. Of course you have always been a very capable agent, but now that you had enough fuel to support the vigorous Avenger training, you’ve been doing better than ever, and Bucky couldn’t have been more proud; however, it all came to a head when you finally caught on to your weight gain.

Fresh out of the shower, you head over to your closet. It was no special occasion but Bucky being the perfect boyfriend that he is, wanted to take you out on a date, just because. After finding Bucky’s favorite pair of lingerie and putting them on, you huff. You don’t remember the bottoms feeling so tight. You passed it off however, thinking that maybe you did something to them in the wash.

But what you couldn’t ignore was how your favorite dress wasn’t fitting. It took way too much wiggling to get it past your hips and waist. What really set you off though, was that you couldn’t zip it. Already too tight on you before zipping, now you couldn’t get the damn thing to move more than an inch. Looking in the mirror you found the reason why the zipper refused to move. The small pocket of fat on your tummy that you thought you got rid of, was back, and larger than it ever was. 

Turning to the side, you saw just how much it was coming out. You could’ve sworn you were a few months pregnant. How could you have missed this? It took a while, but you got the dress off so you could investigate the fat on your stomach. Gasping, you tried to suck in, in the hope that it would disappear. It didn’t.

Tears sprung in your eyes. How could Bucky find this attractive? Why hasn’t he said anything about this? How could you let yourself go like this? All these horrible thoughts raced through your head, before you heard Bucky’s sweet voice through the door asking if you were ready.

All of those little moments lead you to where you are now, standing in front of your mirror crying, while Bucky patiently waits on the other side of the door, thinking all is right with the world, as yours is falling apart right before your eyes. Before you can hide yourself, Bucky opens the door. Immediately, you move to cover yourself up, disgusted with the shape of your body hoping that he doesn’t look at what you can’t cover. Bucky, however, looks directly into your eyes first, seeing the pain and tears.

In two steps he reaches you and his strong arms envelop you, hands running up and down your back. “Love, what’s wrong?” You only bury your face in his chest further. He walks back to the bed, pulling you in his lap as he sits. Your naked body pressed up against his fully clothed one. Bucky’s right palm slides down your back and he tries to squeeze your waist when you jerk away from him.

“No! Don’t touch me there!” Bucky feels his heart crack in his chest at your repulsion, not understanding why you don’t want him to touch your waist. He doesn’t let you leave his lap however, keeping you in place.

“Why, Love? What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything. Look at my stomach, Buck!” You bite back another sob when he does, confusion written all over his face, not understanding what you’re trying to convey. “It’s FAT!” You all but scream, failing at trying to escape when his arms pull you down once again.

“Love…” He gets cut off by another sob falling from your lips. Instead of trying to talk you down, Bucky brings your lips to his and keeps your head in place. The only movement is the wobble of your lower lip as you try to contain your sobs. 

A few minutes pass by before Bucky can’t stand it anymore, and he tilts your head and moves his lips. The kiss tastes of your tears but neither of you care. Clawing at his back, you try to get closer to him, wanting him to consume you. 

When his hands trail down your sides, you pull away. Strong arms spin you around, naked back to clothed chest. The warm palm of his right hand forces you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Buc..”

“No, Love. Look at how fucking sexy you are.” With his right hand still holding your chin, his left trails down your body, stopping over the swell of your tummy. “So goddamn pretty, you know that?” He whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck, cock twitching under your ass.

He spreads his legs, forcing yours to open as well and he groans deep and long at the sight of your pussy. “God, Love, don’t you see how pretty you are, so soft and strong and all mine.” You try to pull away, the feeling of looking at yourself too much, but Bucky’s strong hands don’t let you move an inch. “Feel what you do to me? Feel how hard my cock is?”

 It’s too much, all of it. His praise, his touch, the sight of you. More tears well in your eyes and a pitiful whine leaves you. “Can’t, Bucky. I-I…” You have to close your eyes; you can't look at yourself any longer.

“Shhh, Love, you can, baby. Let Daddy take care of you. Let him show you how pretty you are. Open your eyes for Daddy.” At his request, you open your eyes, only to find his already on you. With tears still pouring from your eyes, Bucky wipes them away before laying you down on your back. 

If there was anyone who knew your limits better than yourself, it was Bucky. He knows that having you look at yourself right now would only do more harm than good, but showing you how much he loves you is a whole different story. Before laying down with you, Bucky takes his clothes off, needing to feel you against his bare skin. “I love you so fucking much, you know that? Never met a stronger,” Bucky plants a kiss on your cheek, “more beautiful,” another kiss, “smarter, sweeter, perfect woman in all my life.” 

With each kiss you can't tell if your erratic heart is slowing down or speeding up. This is such a foreign feeling for you, such unbridled love. Your head falls deeper into the pillows, Bucky’s scent enveloping all your senses, and you can’t think properly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the heedy stare Bucky is giving you.

“Daddy, I don’t, I can’t.” You don’t even know what you are trying to say, words no longer coming to you, but Bucky does, he always knows what you need.

“I know, Love. You just need Daddy to make you feel better, make you see how perfect you are for him.” Wrapping his arms around your back, he pulls you in closer to him, both of you gasping when his hard cock presses up against your naked core. Without thought, you grind your hips up, chasing the friction of his silky skin.

“All those tears, and all you wanted was Daddy’s cock, huh? Just want Daddy to fuck you dumb, turn that little brain off for you? Don’t worry, Love, Daddy’ll take care of you.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, not leaving any space between the two of you, the hard planes of his abdomen pressed against the soft swell of yours.

Bucky doesn’t wait for you to beg, he can’t, not now, he needs to be inside of you, lining himself up, he pushes in, inch by perfect inch.”Shit, Love, you feel how perfect you are for me?”

Your lips part, letting a breathy whine out. Bucky doesn’t wait, slowly pulling out until only his plush tip is still inside, just to roll his hips back in. “Fuck. Look at Daddy, look at what you do to him.” It takes everything in your power to open your eyes and look at Bucky, the pleasure almost too much just after one thrust, but when you do, the sight that meets you is glorious. Face flushed, brows drawn together, lips parted, Bucky looked debauched. 

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without warning, Bucky rolls the both of you over, with you on his lap. “Since you listen to Daddy so well, why don’t you ride his cock, let him look at his pretty girl bounce?” This snaps you out of your stupor, there’s no way you’re going to let him see your stomach jiggle.

“Bucky, I can’t, not this way. What about the other way?” You try to turn around, but his left hand grabs your waist while his right lands a harsh slap to your ass causing you to clench around him. 

“Ah, ah, ah, Daddy wants to see your face. You hear me?” Before you can complain again, Bucky thrusts his hips up, hard. You both moan, caught up in the sensation of his cock inside of you. Your hands fly to his chest, trying to balance yourself before you tumble off. Bucky doesn’t let up, thrust after thrust, pounding into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Daddy, right there, shit, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, just that you don’t want him to stop. The room is filled with the salacious sounds of your combined moans along with the clapclapclap of his thighs meeting your ass.

“So fucking good, Love, you know that? This pussy was made for me. Fucking perfect. Look at this little belly jiggling while I fuck you, shit, gonna make me blow my fucking load early. You’re. So. Fucking. Gorgeous.” Each word was punctuated by a vicious thrust. Ice pours down your spine, in the midst of pleasure you completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this position. He’s fucking staring right at your belly, hands gripping at your extra fat, just watching it ripple with each brutal thrust of his hips.

“Bucky stop, don’t look there, I don’t…” The rest of your sentence gets cut off when Bucky somehow fucks you even harder, effectively making your tummy move more. It’s too much: the feral look in his eyes, the perfect angle of his cock, and his beautiful moans. Despite your best efforts, you feel your orgasm building up. The little coil hidden under the small hump of your belly pulls tighter and tighter, and Bucky can feel it. He can feel your pussy pulsing around him so he moves his hands from your belly to your hips, grinding them against his coarse hairs with sharp thrust.

It pulls tighter and tighter until it snaps, dragging you under, blood roaring through your ears. You vaguely hear Bucky’s voice, “There you go, give it to Daddy. So good for me, soaking my cock. God, I fucking love you.” Bucky stops moving, giving you time to come down from your high. Still gasping for air, you fall down onto his sweaty chest, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You’re pulled out of your haze by Bucky. “Think you can give me one more? I think you can.”

He flips you over, back landing on the bed while he throws your legs over his shoulders, effectively causing your stomach to roll up, small pockets of fat pushing out. You whine, not wanting Bucky to see it, but he fucking loves this. Loves the bit of extra fat that has found its way under your chin, the soft flesh around your strong thighs, and the belly that fits perfectly in his hands. He loves it because it proves your healthy, that he’s feeding you well, well enough that you can train to your full potential, have the energy to do what you want to, not always be so tired you don’t want to do the things you love to do, that you aren’t afraid to eat what you want. That’s what he fucking loves, taking care of you and the way your body has changed has absolutely zero affect on his attraction to you. He will always think you are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe.

“Love, you don’t understand how fucking sexy you are, do you? Look at how well we fit together.” He cups the back of your head, making you look at your stomach as he enters you again, making your belly bulge more. “Do you see this, Love? See how pretty you are, and it's all for me, isn’t it?” The adoration in his eyes was almost too much, the swell in your chest threatening to burst as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his love with every stroke. Bucky wasn’t fucking you anymore, he was making love to you, showing you how much you mean to him. 

Bucky takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together, placing your hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock underneath your softness. “Daddy, feels so good. Fuck. Love you so much.” Bucky’s hips stutter when you say you love him, it has always been his weakness, the utter devotion and vulnerability that you allow him to experience is something he will never take for granted. Tears were streaming down your face, eyes probably red and puffy. Leaning forward, Bucky places his forehead on yours, eyes locked into yours.

“I know, Love. Can’t even begin to describe how much I love you.” Bucky can feel you getting closer again, pussy clenching around him, hands scrambling to grab onto something: his hair, back, hands, sheets, you can’t decide, the pleasure coursing through you too much. “Give it to me Love, make your Daddy proud and cum on his cock. Know you want to, just let go.” With two more thrusts, your eyes roll back, another orgasm rolling through you. This one shorter than the last, but no less intense. Bucky finds his release right after, burrowing his face into your neck, holding you to him, wanting to be as close as possible. 

It takes a few minutes, but the both of you calm down, hearts returning back to normal. You’re the first to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. “You knew I was gaining weight, didn’t you?” With his softening cock still buried deep inside you, Bucky lifts his head up a small smirk adorning his face. 

“Of course, but this little pudge,” he grabs your tummy and almost kneads it, “is because you’re healthy. You have so much more energy recently, and I fall deeper in love with you every single time I see how fucking happy you are now. You make me so proud to be able to call myself your boyfriend. You're so beautiful and I promise you that I will spend everyday for the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You don’t have any words to respond, so you just wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. And of course Bucky keeps true to his promise, and you believe him when he tells you that you are the most beautiful woman because he proves it to you everyday, in and outside of the bedroom.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader

[excessive-moisture]

7 foot rat, rats along his rats

I will end you.....

#ask #WHY DID YOU #I CANT NOT ANSWER THIS #tw seven foot rats

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Dannymay 2023. Day 7. Weapon. DPXDC.

The Justice League is trying to figure out Danny’s identity, and he’s not happy about it.

~Words hurt more than weapons~

~~~

Wonder Woman: You’re bound by the Lasso of Truth. No more chance of hiding secrets, ghost.

Danny: Are you kidding me?

Batman: Who are you, Phantom?

Danny: "I am a 400-foot tall purple platypus bear with pink horns and silver wings."

Captain Marvel: Wow, you don’t see many Fire Nation princesses these days.

Danny: Hm, at least someone with good taste here.

Danny: Have you even read the Fenton articles? Batman? Anyone? No? Remember. Ghosts will always find a way to lie. Your ribbon has no power over me.

~~~

Danny: ..I have a few words for you too, Batsy. Martha says hi. And she wants you to know that " ..if I see a damn clown in the immediate vicinity of one of my grandchildren or if I find out that you or any of the family are on patrol with broken bones, I’ll spank you as soon as I meet you on the other side. Obey Alfred. With love, Mother."

Flash:..Batman, why are you so pale?

Batman: Someone sprayed the fear toxin. Check the ventilation.

Flash:..

~~~

Superman: Stop it! Listen..

Phantom: I liked you when I was a kid, you know? They say it’s better to never meet your idols. Now I see it's truth.

Superman: You shouldn't be doing this alone. We can help you.

Danny: What makes you think I need your help? Don’t be a hypocrite. Why don’t you take off your glasses at the Daily Planet office? And why do you think that you can tell me what to do with my secret identity?

Danny: Don’t worry, I’m dead but my family is fine. I’m not like you, Big Blue. I will not sacrifice the people I love for my murderous secret.

Superman: What are you talking about?

Phantom: Don’t play dumb. In the land of the dead, people like to talk about the past, you know. You told Jonathan he wasn’t your father, and then you didn’t even try to save him. It’s cruel. But you can be happy, Jonathan doesn’t blame you for his death. I do.

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.

Superman: I.. I listened to what he said. He was trying to protect me.

Danny: So, how does it feel? Letting him die in front of you, knowing you could have saved him? Do you blame youself?

Superman: How dare you.

Danny: Of course, you do. Because no matter how many lives Superman saves, the most important one to you..You’ll never got it back. Afraid of being a lab rat? Superman is not special. I am not special too. 

Danny: Don’t look down at me just because you have more experience behind you. Revealing my identity should be my choice, not yours.

~~~~

Danny: Stay out of my grave. *turns to Batman* You should stay away from your son’s grave too. Leave the past behind.

~Hairstyle. Sharp tongue. Physique. This Insolence.~

Batman: Jason?

Danny: Wrong ghost, old man.

Batman: ...You’re the one who said a ghost would always find a way to lie.

Danny: Pride and prejudice! *shit, I’m starting to swear like Mr.Lancer, It’s time to finish my english essay.*  I’m not your Robin. Sorry bout that.

~Jane Austen? No hint more obvious. Jay doesn’t want to deal with the League? Well, Bruce doesn’t mind playing along.~

Batman: I understand.

Danny: Thank Ancients! Anyway, I’m leaving. Don’t look for me.

~~~

Tucker: Wow, Danny, when we told you to take care about the League, we thought you’d do it, like, without turning all of them against you.

Danny: Not all of them. And I didn’t do anything wrong. We talked.

Jazz: Danny, believe me, sometimes a conversation with you can cause more damage to your enemies than your ectoblasts.

Sam: Not just to them. Sometimes I also feel like his ideas are melting my brain.

Danny: Hey! Actually, you should be on my side.

Sam: We should?

Danny: Never mind. But if JL set foot in Amity Park I will sic on Wonder Woman her grandfather.

Tucker: But her Grandfather is Kronos. He’s a creep, trying to eat all his kids. Where do you even know such a monster from?

Clockwork *puts a cup of tea on the table and coughs to attract attention*.

Tucker: Wait a minute...

Tucker: Oh mY GOd, Mr. CLocKWoRk I’m sO SorRy, please don’t kill me.

Sam: Now you’ve changed your mind about importance of a healthy vegan diet, Tucker?

Tucker: ..No, I’m not that desperate.

~~~

~At the same time,somewhere in Ghost Zone~

 Martha *teaches Jason to do a choke hold*.

~~~

~At the same time, in one of Amity Park’s alleys.~

Maddie and Jack *discuss ways to capture the Phantom*

Batman *appears behind them*:DoN’t toUcH my the сHiLd.

~~~

Jazz: Don't you think that mentioning Superman's father was too much?

Danny: Maybe.But..when I think about you, mom or dad in dander I can't imagine what would make me freeze and.. It just doesn't make sense, okey?

Jazz: You're still thinking about Dan, right?

Danny: Every.damn.time.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dannymay2023 #dannymay #Danny Phantom #dp #clockwork is kronos

[silens-oro]

Spoils of War: 7. The Wheel

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader Minor side relationships with the reader will be present throughout this.

Spoils of War Masterlist Masterlist

Synopsis: The Wheel of War begins to turn.

Word Count: ~18k (absolutely absurd)

General Warning: 18+. POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR UPCOMING HOTD EPISODES. Targaryen uncle/niece incest (lite, nothing truly weird other than they are both Targaryens), blood, gore, murder, child murder, animal sacrifice (not really but I'm warning still), nudity, ptsd, mention of r*ape (none occurs). Let me know if I've missed any!

AN: This took way longer to finish than I anticipated it would. By the time I finished writing, this chapter was over 20k words. I had to do some major edits, and throw some of the bulk into the next chapter. I've adored the feedback I've received on this story, so please keep sending it in! From this point forward, it is going to get very messy, very quickly. Thank you all for reading! This story is a literal labor of love that has taken many, many weeks of writing DAILY and editing to get to this point. I've never felt the attachment to anything I've written like I feel to this story, so I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.

A putrid smell hit Aemond’s nostrils as he stepped down the staircase leading to the dungeon. It smelled of death and decay, and was absolutely unmistakable. A stone catapulted to the pit of his stomach, the dread that seeped through him was enough to make him sick if the smell alone didn’t. 

Aemond had been absent for the last week due to princely duties as his grandsire called them. They were nothing more than to show the might of Vhagar to those who toed the line of support to the Green’s cause. Duty was duty, nonetheless, but Aemond could not return to you quick enough. 

The first thought he had as he entered the dungeon was that you perished, by your own hand most likely. His Shadow, as she had done in his absences previous, was supposed to check in on you nightly. By the smell, the decay was days along. His Shadow probably feared what he would do should he find out his beloved had accomplished what he tried so hard to prevent. She was right, of course. No death would be quick enough for her, and he would find her -he promised himself. He’d skin the little wretch alive with his bare hands when he caught her. 

Aemond kept his torch in front of himself to illuminate the stale darkness. A squelching noise was the first sound to meet his keen ears. It was faint, but present. He brought the sleeve of his coat to his nose to alleviate some of the stench that permeated the air. It was sickly sweet and rancid with a copper tinge to it that turned his stomach. His feet moved quickly over the dusty floor to reach your cell.

Aemond saw that the door to the cell was ajar before the rest of the cell came into view. His heart pounded as he stopped at the foot of it. A body, swarmed with devouring rats, was on the floor. Dark, clotted blood surrounded it as the rats munched at what was left of the soft tissue of the person’s legs and innards. The face was covered by your wool blanket, seemingly untouched by the vermin.

As Aemond crouched down with the torch, the rats scurried in all directions -squealing at the intrusion- but a rat with a stump for a paw stood in the furthest corner, watching his every move. 

Aemond quickly tossed the blanket from the body and relief immediately filled him when he saw dark hair in place of Targaryen silver, but that relief quickly turned to rage and anxiety. He stood swiftly, kicking the dirty blanket to the side.

“Idiot girl!” He seethed at the body, breathing heavily. He brought a hand to his head and paced to sooth his growing panic.

His hand ran down his face as he glared at the decaying body of his Shadow with absolute hatred filling his eye. His angular mouth was set in a sneer at the reality that was facing him. So many thoughts and questions swirled through his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened. How did you lure his Shadow into the cell? How did you break free? How did you escape from the dungeon without being seen? 

Aemond’s eyes caught sight of your open shackles and the single key that lay discarded on the ground next to them. His eye narrowed and he looked down at the girl once more. He could see bloody slits in the girl’s shirt where the rats hadn’t chewed through quite yet. 

She had a weapon, he thought. She did not escape on her own. 

The next thought he had was what would happen if you made it out of King’s Landing. Surely you’d return to Dragonstone -back to your father. Ravens would surely descend upon the Keep, alerting his mother of what he had done. That the Princess was alive and had been alive this whole time. Whatever her reaction would be, his grandsire’s would surely be thrice as bad. 

The tendrils of madness scratched at the far corners of his mind as he tried to think five steps ahead. 

If he had stolen you once, he would most assuredly be able to do it again. You were his, after all. 

Aemond loathed the filth of Flea Bottom, and once more he was in search of someone hiding amongst the shit, piss, and rats. He hoped you hadn’t gone too far and that you were still holed up somewhere in the city. If you were, he’d be able to flush you out. 

Though his hood was covering his face, he did not blend in. His face was easily recognizable and it only took one single person to stop him in his tracks. 

“Have you lost something, my Prince?” A woman spoke brazenly as she stepped out of a doorway he passed. Her eyes were reminiscent of a snake’s as they zeroed in on him. Aemond had half a mind to ignore the woman, but something about the way she looked at him let him know she knew exactly who he was looking for.  

“Perhaps.” He did not give the woman more than that. 

“Perhaps,” She mirrored with an arch of her brow. “Is it a bird that has escaped its cage?” She asked coyly. “It…is…a bird you are looking for, my Prince?” Aemond’s eye turned to a slit. 

“A bird?”

“Hm…swore I saw a little wren fly to the ports not six nights past. However, if it is not a wren you are looking for, I apologize for the interruption, my Prince. I wish you luck in your endeavor.” She bowed and turned to recede back into the darkness of the pitiful dwelling, but Aemond was quick to stop her. She turned her chin over her shoulder and raised a sparse brow at him. 

“…What do you know of this…wren?” The woman grinned and nodded for him to follow behind her. Aemond looked around him, deeming the coast clear of any onlookers, and followed her in. 

Aemond returned to the Red Keep after dark with no further luck on your current whereabouts, other than you had fled on a ship in the cover of night with a handful of Northerners. 

The Warden of the North came to fetch his bride, was what the woman told him. The words alone nearly set him into a rage. He was so careful, so very careful to keep your whereabouts a secret, and now it was all for naught. 

Aemond’s anxiety peaked when he entered the Keep as he was met with absolute chaos. Guards were stationed at every entrance, at every staircase. They were stationed at every “secret” entrance and all had their eyes on the lookout. For what, he didn’t know.

“The Queen Dowager requests your presence at once, my Prince.” A guard fetched Aemond as he saw the Prince stride into the Keep. “It is of the utmost urgency.” 

A new mess to clean up, no doubt, he thought to himself with a roll of his eye. He turned on his heel to follow the guard to his mother’s solar where he could hear an awful wailing from within as he turned down the hall. Aemond’s brows furrowed when he opened the door, and his jaw nearly hit the floor at what he saw inside. 

The man who carried you through King’s Landing helped you step off the ship and onto the docks of Dragonstone. Once your feet hit the solid wood, you took a breath to center yourself. It took a moment to stabilize yourself on shaky legs as he held onto your arms. 

“Can you walk?” The man asked, his voice deep and his northern accent thick. Looking up into his dark eyes, you nodded with a grateful smile. 

“Thank you.” You whispered sincerely. Thank you for pulling me out of the dungeon. Thank you for carrying me through King’s Landing. Thank you for delivering me home. 

“You are most welcome, Princess.” For the first time, he gave you a kind smile and a nod. His gaze moved over your head and you turned to follow where he was looking. 

There, at the beginning of the dock, stood your father with Ser Erryk and Ser Lorent. Your father’s hair blew with the breeze and painted a serene portrait of ferocity and stateliness. Your legs were moving towards him before your brain could catch up. Once your eyes connected with his, your father rushed down the docks with long, hurried steps to meet you in the middle. His arms wrapped you in an embrace that you wished to never part from. 

He held you -oh he held you. He squeezed you to him as hard as he could as you sobbed into his chest. His scent that was undeniably home wafted into your senses and it all became too much too soon. Your father’s outward display of affection, in front of such an audience, was a rarity and it told you just how dire your disappearance was to him. 

Your rescuers stayed back to let you have your moment with your father. 

“There are horses and provisions ready for your journey,” Your father motioned to the top of the dunes. “For Lord Stark,” He held a scroll out. 

“Can they not rest here for the night, father?” You questioned. Surely those who risked their necks for you deserved a moment to breathe. 

“We thank you for the extension, my Princess, but we do have a long journey ahead of us. We must reach the North before the worst of winter hits if we are to make the journey in as little time as possible.” The woman spoke as she walked up to take the scroll and secure it in the satchel around her shoulder. 

“This will not be forgotten.” Your father stated, his eyes holding contact with the woman. She merely nodded with a small grin and bowed. The man who carried you followed suit, and the rest of the men on the boat followed silently as they trailed behind.  

“My girl.” Your father spoke in your native tongue as he held your face in his hands, looking you up and down to survey the damage that had been done, noting just how shattered the light in your eyes had become. “What has he done to you?” His voice shook. Never, not once in your life, had you heard his voice tremble. He pulled you into his chest once more.  

You shook your head as you held onto him with everything you had. The warmth of your father’s embrace was a comforting security blanket. Nothing and no one could harm you from within his arms. 

You longed for your bed with each step you took. An awful pain grew in the back of your eyes as you were led through the archway that opened into the Keep. The sights and sounds of the world outside of your cell were overwhelming -even still, weeks later. You rubbed at your eyes as you followed behind your father. The instant change from sunlight to shadow was a relief.

Jaws dropped as you passed by servants and guards. You noted a handmaid scurry to the western wing, no doubt to spread the news of your resurrection. 

You must’ve looked a sight. Dressed in an oversized tunic and trousers that were fastened to your waist with a strand of rope, as well as some boots that were clearly a size too big on your feet. Your clothes alone were well below your station, but they were clean and that was more than you had in that cell for weeks at a time. 

The mess of hair on your head was another story entirely. The salty air and briney water were not kind to it. You hadn’t a clue what your own face looked like. While you had bathed on the small vessel, you did not dare look upon your own reflection in the water. Though the temptation was there, you did not know if your mind could survive looking upon the monster that would surely be looking back. 

Your father led you up to the council chambers. The room, to your surprise, was empty as you entered. Natural light filtered in from the high windows, but that was all that gave life to the otherwise dark room. 

“Sit.” Your father instructed, motioning to the chair at the furthest end of the table. He then nodded to both Queen’s Guards and they set off in opposite directions. A heavy silence overtook the room. Not a single thought flowed through your mind as your father paced for a moment before dropping down into a squat beside your knee. 

His eyes held yours in a hypnotizing stare. “I have never felt more relief than I did when you stepped off that ship, byka hontes.” Birdie. It was a nickname you hadn’t heard since you were a child. Your love for the skies at such a young age had graced you with the moniker by your father and your father alone. 

As you grew older, he began to treat you more and more like a Princess grown and less like the perpetually small child that clinged onto his legs, and the name soon faded into the deep recesses of your mind until it was merely a memory lost to time. 

Daemon’s hands gently held your scabbed wrists, his thumbs rubbing the puffy, pink scars where the scabs had fallen. “Aemond held you in irons?” You nodded, breaking the eye contact between you. 

“He was adamant on keeping me under lock and key…until the war ended, anyway. My shackles would only then be metaphorical.” Your father wanted to tell you he saw this coming -the look in his eyes said as much. As happy as he was to have you within reach once more, it was also in his nature to boast when his warnings were not heeded. Surprising you, he did not so much as utter the words ‘I told you so’. Instead, he decided to speak on something so much worse.

“I am asking this before anyone else enters this room, and it shall never be brought up again if you so wish it, but I must know…” Your eyes turned to look into his once more. “Did Aemond force himself on you?” Your face melted into a look of disgust. 

“My maidenhead is the first thing you question? After all I’ve been through? After all we’ve lost?” Anger began to build. Daemon shook his head, holding a hand out to keep you seated. His brows were furrowed in irritation.

“No, you silly girl.” The term ‘silly girl’ was never used teasingly when he called you it, and it always struck a nerve when he said it. “I worry for you. I don’t give two shits about your maidenhead.” He returned just as angrily. “I wish to know if my daughter was defiled, if there is a chance that you carry that cunt’s seed in your womb. It will be dealt with if he did, rest assured.” Your stomach clenched at the thought. Your anger had passed on to something along the lines of anxiety as you shook your head. 

“He did not, and he would not.” You answered stoically. “Aemond would not force himself on anyone, much less me, father. In that I can promise you. There were plenty of opportunities and not once did he attempt it.” Where Aemond drew the line between what he believed would be acceptable and unacceptable in the eyes of the Seven baffled you as his own morals were so wildly skewed.

“You think he is incapable of such depravity?” The question was asked as if you were stupid, naive. A silly girl.

“I think any man is capable of such depravity, but I know he would not do it, much less do it to me.” You said adamantly. 

“There was also a time when you didn’t think it was in his character to cause you harm, to hold you in chains.” He responded point blank. “And yet your brother is dead, you were taken, and we’ve lost two dragons. Because of him!” He raised his voice. “Tell me once more how well you know him!” Your eyes narrowed and a deep frown sat heavily upon your mouth. You did not blame your father for how he lashed out, not after what he and your mother had surely dealt with -are still dealing with. It still hurt, nonetheless.

“I am not defending him, father. You asked a question and I gave you my answer. You need not remind me of what has been lost. I was there. I saw it. I felt it. I heard it.” You stated defiantly. “I harbor enough guilt in my heart that I do not need to be lectured on it.” You were tired -exhausted- and his line of questioning was beginning to eat away at your patience. 

A gasp from the top of the staircase broke the growing tension. Your father stood upright, but did not move from his place next to you. You also stood in respect to your Queen Mother. She held onto Ser Erryk’s arm to keep herself from teetering over in shock. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked upon you. You noted the look of horror that crossed her face as she got a good look at your own the closer she crept. Her eyes shifted between you and Daemon, then back to you. Ser Erryk assisted her down the stairs and once she reached the bottom, she tore towards you in a flurry. 

Rhaenyra pulled you to her, sobbing into your shoulder as she held you. 

“My child!” She wailed, whispering your name over and over. You held her tightly, anchoring her to the floor in reassurance that you weren’t a figment of her imagination. Your father brought a hand to her back and rubbed soothing circles between her shoulders. She pulled back, looking between you and your father with a thousand questions fluttering within her eyes. “How?” Was the only one that she could physically ask. You looked to your father.

“I would also like to know.” 

Your father had given his own explanation of what transpired. Jace had acquired the likes of your future Lord Husband, Cregan Stark, to locate you based on a feeling in Jace’s gut that you were not dead. That silly, little feeling that Jace held on to, that Cregan Stark believed in, is the reason why you were sat at the Painted Table, free of your shackles and free of Aemond. 

And so, you told your parents everything. Every little detail from your less than pleasant visit to Storm’s End, to Luke’s murder, to your brutal capture and the subsequent death of Maestron. You told them of your time in the pitch black darkness of the abandoned dungeon of the Red Keep, and of Aemond’s shadow. You told them of your hunger strike and how Aemond and his shadow held you down and force fed you until you could not breathe. 

Your father paced back and forth like a caged lion as you retold your tale, and you noted the look of surprise and pride when you mentioned how you tricked Aemond’s Shadow into opening your cell and how she met an end she was worthy of. 

Your mother sat silently with tears of rage falling endlessly as you recounted every detail that had been unknown to them until this very moment.. 

“Did Alicent know you were there?” She questioned, her lips set in a firm line. 

“Aemond made it clear, and he could’ve been lying, but his shadow was the only other person who knew I was down there.” You picked at one of your broken fingernails, hissing when it splintered just a little too far up.

“If there were any families sitting on the fence, they won’t be anymore.” Your father spoke as he stopped to lean on the table. “The true Princess of the Realm held captive in a dungeon by her crazed kinslayer uncle? Their backs will turn on the Greens in an instant.”

“I see you are ever so quick to jump at the opportunity.” Your mother spat. “Can we not have a mere fucking moment to appreciate that our daughter is still with us?” You sat silently, not surprised by your father’s behavior. You’ve seen the best and the worst of him throughout your life. You knew the man inside and out, and you knew he loved you, but he was also a Targaryen Prince and with that came a certain type of tenacity that did not sit well with most.   

“Your Grace,” Ser Erryk interrupted as he came back down the stairs to the first landing. “Apologies for the interruption, but Blood has returned.” 

“Bring him in.” Your father commanded with a nefarious grin. Ser Erryk looked to his Queen, who merely nodded, and he turned to fetch whoever this ‘Blood’ was. “Aemond was stupid enough to draw first blood.” Your father explained after seeing confusion cross your features. “Now his family is feeling what ours has.”

Blood was a tall man, massive, wide, and imposing as he calmly took each step into the council room. His cragged face was adorned with a large scar trailing from his left eyebrow all the way past his jawline. His dark eyes were wide and absolutely terrifying when they met yours. A crooked grin stretched his lips when he saw you shift back in your chair. He had the largest arms you had ever seen on a man and you were certain he could snap your neck in an instant if he so wanted to. There was an air of darkness that shrouded him and the sack he carried over his shoulder. 

Ser Erryk kept a close distance to the man, carefully putting himself in the line of fire should Blood try to make a go at either you or the Queen. His hand never left the hilt of his sword as his eyes watched every move the man made. 

Your father placed a pouch on the Painted Table. The clang it made let you know that there was quite a hefty sum inside. Blood, in turn, swung the sack from over his shoulders and emptied its contents onto the table. An involuntary gasp left you the second two small decomposing heads rolled towards you. Pushing your chair back in a panic, it nearly tipped over had Ser Erryk not been there to catch it. You held a hand to your mouth to stop from dry heaving. 

Blood tossed the empty sack on the table and snatched the pouch of gold. He opened it, looked inside, and made a humming noise in satisfaction at what he saw. 

“Should you need our assistance again, your Grace, you know where to find us.” Your father dismissed the assassin and Ser Erryk followed after him. 

Your mother’s face was stoic and your father looked quite pleased. Your heart hurt for these children, but your mind flashed to Lucerys. He may not have been as young as the two before you, but he was still a child nonetheless. This wouldn’t bring your brother back, but you knew how much this would hurt Helaena, and by extension Aemond and their mother. The corner of your mouth twitched up at the thought. 

Let this be a lesson to them, you thought ruefully, and let them see the headless bodies of those children every time they gazed upon Aemond.   

“A son for a son. A daughter for a daughter.” Your father said simply. You could not break your eyes from the lifeless milky gazes of young Princess Jaehaera and her twin Prince Jaehaerys. This act would surely set the wheel of war into full motion. 

“You’ve done this!” Alicent screamed the moment Aemond entered. Her face was splotched red and her voice was hoarse as she pointed an accusing finger at her son. He looked to the shrouded bodies on the floor and back to her, and in an instant she was on him. 

The slap echoed in the room, and just for good measure, she slapped him again on his opposite cheek. The blows were painful and full of rage he knew was building inside of her. 

“Look at them!” She grabbed Aemond by his wrist and dragged him to the shrouded bodies. She pulled the sheet in a flurry and Aemond felt as if he would throw up in an instant. “Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are dead! Assassinated before our very eyes, Aemond! The heir to the throne, my grandchildren, beheaded because of choices you made! Look at them!” Alicent grabbed Aemond’s chin and tilted his head down so he had to look at them. He felt his eye tear up at the sight of their small bodies. His niece and nephew had adored him, just as he adored them, and now they lay slain before him. His mother was right. 

“A son for a son. A daughter for a daughter.” Alicent spat, covering her grandchildren once more before they were taken to the Silent Sisters for funeral preparations. Alicent stormed to her chambers and Aemond caught a glimpse of an absolutely devastated Helaena. Aemond felt his breath leave him. 

You were alive and Sweet Jaehaera died for nothing.

Ser Erryk accompanied you to your quarters. At the command of your Queen Mother, the knight was now tasked with being your sworn shield. Gods only knew what Aemond would do now that you were no longer under this thumb, topped with the assassinations of his eldest niece and nephew. Ser Erryk took his place dutifully outside as you entered your chambers, offering his assistance should you need anything. 

Myra, your ever trusted handmaiden, was already inside preparing for your arrival in the short time she was given. Her shining eyes met yours before she bowed her head.

“My Princess.” Myra greeted with a warm smile. “A hot bath is being drawn as we speak.” In her arms was your robe, slippers, and nightgown. It was late in the day and the sun was starting its slow descent towards the horizon, you noted as you looked through the balcony doors. Nodding to Myra, you followed her from your chambers with Ser Erryk trailing closely behind.

You had not truly known what the grave look your mother initially gave you meant until you got your first look at yourself in months when you returned to your chambers after your much needed soak. Myra had made sure the orange blossom oils you loved so much were replenished and waiting for you when you stepped into the tub. 

The scent was soothing.

The flaking scabs around your wrists still ached with each flex of the skin. The puffy, pink scars left behind were a scathing reminder that mocked you day in and day out. The pink rings around your ankles fared much better -they didn’t quite ache as much, nor were the scars terrible. They would fade with time. 

It was your face that haunted your mother. As Myra managed her way through your tangles tenderly, you could only look upon yourself with a heavy frown as you sat in front of the reflecting glass of your dressing table.   

Your once beautiful hair’s ends were split and broken off, giving it a jagged appearance at the ends. Your skin, though it had gained some of its natural color back on your journey back to Dragonstone, was still ashen and malnourished. The circles under your eyes were dark, creating a sunken effect. Cracked were your lips, perpetually it seemed. A deep line split your bottom lip down the middle but it had been that way since the beginning of your captivity, so it no longer really bothered you.  

“The maester will be bringing up salves, my Princess. We will get you back into working order in no time. Don’t you fret.” Myra spoke softly as she caught your lifeless gaze in the mirror. She gave you a reassuring smile and you could only nod. “If I may be so bold,” She looked into your eyes in the mirror. You nodded once more. “You have been missed terribly, my Princess. I am filled with relief that you are alive.” Myra’s earnestness made tears well in your eyes. Myra immediately panicked. “I apologize, my Princess! I did not mean to upset you!” Your hand tugged at her wrist and you pulled her into a hug. 

Myra, though she was your handmaiden, and was a dear friend. She had been by your side since you reached maturity and she was loyal to a fault. 

“My return to Dragonstone has been…overwhelming.” You explained as you pulled away gently. “It lightens my heart to hear your kind words, Myra.” She gave you a sad smile and nodded before continuing to work through your hair. 

By the time Myra was done with you, the sun was just peeking over the water’s edge. Before she took her leave, you requested that she let Ser Erryk know that, with her exception, you did not want to be disturbed. 

You lounged upright upon the cushioned chaise on your balcony. You wrapped yourself in a blanket taken from your bed, breathing in the fresh air with a newfound appreciation. Dragons flew freely in the distance as they entered and exited the many caves and vents of the Dragonmont. 

Your heart ached terribly as you brought your head to your hands and hunched over, allowing the blanket to fully cocoon you. Guilt flowed through your blood with each pump of your heart and it tendriled through you like poison. The cushion beside you dipped and a hand placed itself on your blanketed back. The presence was familiar and comforting, and you immediately tilted your body to rest against them as they held you. Not a single word was spoken between you until darkness began to shroud the island.    

“It seems that I have you to thank for my rescue.” Your voice cracked as you brought your head out of the blanket to finally look upon Jace. He had aged well past his six and ten years since you last saw him, due to stress and grief. A hint of dark stubble had started to grace his jaw. 

“I merely kept hope. It was Lord Stark that devised the plan. It is he who is owed the credit.” Jace sat back in the chaise, pulling you back with him to keep you nestled safely in his side. His hand ran up and down your covered arm. 

“I am…grateful all the same.” You choked out, trying to hold yourself together. You were tired of crying, tired of letting your own grief overtake everything you felt. You wanted to sleep and never open your eyes to the world again.

“Lord Stark accepted the betrothal before you went missing.” Jace spoke softly, looking out over the open ocean. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a beautiful glow over the island and its surrounding waters. “I like to think that it was my shining descriptions of you that sold him on the idea.”

“And it seems that was his stipulation upon my release.” Your tone held a sharpness to it. “I am to go from one man’s prison to the next.” Jace sighed as he pulled from you gently so that you may face one another. “It doesn't matter. I am not the same person I was before. He will soon learn that.” Jace said your name softly.

“You are my sister, and that is enough for him. The North, for all its perceived faults, is not the prison you imagine it to be. You have always trusted my word, so please trust me when I say that if there was ever a man worthy of your hand, it is Cregan Stark.” Jace’s plea was heartfelt, this much you knew. “He has sworn to me that he would treat you with honor and respect. I think you’ll warm up to Winterfell quite quickly, as I did. Cregan will take care of you and you will be safe. This I promise.”

“You seem close…you call him by his first name as if he is blood.” You eyed Jace suspiciously.

“After word reached Winterfell of what happened to you…what happened to Luke…” Jace trailed off. “Lord Stark was supportive while I mourned.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “He was kind enough to host me in Winterfell for a few weeks longer than intended and during that time we came to an agreement, a blood oath of brotherhood. In my heart of hearts I knew you couldn’t be dead. Aemond would sooner turn his sword on himself than kill you, regardless of his mindset. I was certain then, and it turns out that I was right.”

“If only he had done that to begin with and spared us all a world of hurt.” You mumbled, leaning back into Jace. The ebb and flow of the sea filled the silence between you and Jace.  

“Daemon saw to it that Maestron’s skull be reclaimed from the Hook.” Jace spoke softly. “He is resting in the crypts should you wish to see him. We…could not find Arrax.” You wouldn’t, you wanted to say. He’s scattered like ash. Just as Luke is. You kept the words to yourself and let them fester within. 

Just as Luke is. 

Just as you should be. 

Fluorescent yellow flames encircled you, enveloping your being in heat, protection and serenity. The dragonfire did not scorch your skin as it wrapped around each limb, the rays braided through your hair, taking on the glow. Floating, your feet never touched the ground as you drifted higher and higher within the darkness. A deep rumble vibrated through your entire body. It shook the walls of the cavern, causing pebbles to fall around you. 

An eye, vividly chartreuse, appeared from the darkness and floated closer to your face. The size was massive, nearly the size of your head -if not bigger. The slitted pupil contracted as it got closer to the flames around you. The reflection of the ethereal fire bounced off its glossy, rounded surface. 

The eye blinked, the reptilian lids moving both vertically and horizontally, then it distanced itself from you and in its place a muzzle -as black as the darkness around you- came into view. The salivating jaws opened to display endless rows of sharp teeth. You could smell the dragon’s putrid breath, reeking of death and decay.  

Your eyes shot open, a gasp escaped your mouth as the distant sound of a dragon’s roar -mighty in its volume all the way from the Dragonmont- caught your ears. Looking to your open balcony, you felt a pull in your soul you never thought you would feel again in your lifetime. Standing quickly in the candlelit room, the cold stone floor was shocking to the heat of your feet as you walked to the balcony and stood at its ledge. 

This pull felt different than it had with Maestron, but it was familiar enough for you to recognize. 

There was only one dragon alive who was black as coal and had eyes of the brightest green. You were reminded of the same feeling of awe you had as a child when the dragon came to mind. Though you had only set your eyes upon him a handful of times, it was always from a far enough distance that you never got to truly see the intricate details of his powerful body. Your father made it abundantly clear as a young girl that neither you, nor Maestron, were to ever come close to crossing paths with this particular beast. 

“I have never seen a dragon such as him, papa. He is quite beautiful.” Your ten year old self stared in wonder from the shores just outside of Dragonstone’s Keep. There was a gap where one of the last of your front baby teeth had fallen out in recent weeks, and it was visible to your father as your jaw dropped in wonder at the dragon who flew out of the Mont and over the open ocean. 

Two dragonkeepers were behind you and your father, guiding Maestron back to where the other wyrmlings were kept near the Keep. Your wyrmling was not yet big enough to ride, and neither were you ready to ride him, but your father insisted you spend as much time with the dragon as you could so your bond was inseparable by the time you could ride him. 

“Does it have a name, Kepa?” He shook his head. 

“Not as your Maestron does, sweetling. This dragon has only a nickname given to him by the smallfolk of the villages.” Your father explained. “He is a feral dragon, the eldest of the wild bunch if my memory serves me.” 

“Older than Sheepstealer? Grey Ghost?” Your father chuckled. The far more docile wild dragons had alway piqued your interest -the elusive Grey Ghost especially as he liked to stay hidden within the mists of the Mont and surrounding waters. You had seen even less of his appearance than that of the dragon that currently held your attention.

“Yes, even older than Sheepstealer and Grey Ghost, Birdie, and just as they have -he’s been riderless his whole life.” Your eyes didn’t leave the dragon’s obsidian scales until he was so far away, he disappeared into the horizon. 

“Did he not hatch in a crib?” Your confusion brought a grin to your father’s face. 

“No, that is why they are called wild dragons, Birdie. No one really knows for sure where he came from. Some say he was hatched in the Dragonmont. Some even say he was hatched just before Aenar rode Balerion over the seas from Valyria and landed here, but that would make him quite old, wouldn’t it?” He looked down as you nodded. “Most believe he is from a different dragon lineage altogether, which is why he looks so different from the other dragons. I believe this to be true. It could also explain why he acts with hostility towards our Valyrian dragons. He is a mystery, nonetheless, and will remain as such.” Daemon shook his head, his shoulder length hair swayed in the breeze, eyes looking down to lock with yours. “He eats up anyone foolish enough to even step near his nest in the Mont, especially curious little dragonriders. Few have tried to bond with him, and all have failed. Their bones litter his nest, it is said.” You looked upon your father with wide eyes. 

“He eats them?” You asked with a frown. 

“He does.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not a dragonrider yet.” There was relief in your voice.  

“But you will be, Birdie. Be warned, little one. It isn’t just curious little dragonriders he likes to feast on. He will consume anything he comes across. People, animals, other dragons -wyrmlings especially.” You looked over to Maestron’s retreating form in a panic. “That is why we keep them and the newly nested eggs separate from the larger dragons, lest they be feasted on. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”  You shook your head at the thought of Maestron perishing before he could even fly. 

Though, there was something that drew you to the beast in the sky. To be unbonded for so long, living freely to do as he pleased thrilled you. The dragon had quite the reputation. 

Your father squatted down in front of you, his hands holding onto your tiny arms gently. “That is why you must always be cautious in the skies, my Birdie. Dragons such as he will not think twice about swallowing you and your wyrmling whole.” His hand came up to push a bit of hair from your face. “He is nicknamed the Cannibal for a reason.”

“The Cannibal.” You tested the name out, your lips pulling into a grin. “Had Maestron not hatched, I think I would be worthy of riding the Cannibal.” Your father let out a laugh, standing up straight with a groan that only adults seemed to let out when they rested on joints for too long. “Don’t you think, kepa?”

“You do not heed my warnings?” He asked with a raise of a brow. 

“I do! That is why my Maestron will be the most bloodthirsty dragon in the Seven Kingdoms once he is grown, since I cannot ride the fearsome Cannibal! Maestron will be feared by all just as the Cannibal is feared! When I am older, I will be the fiercest dragonrider to exist! None shall cross me or they will perish!” You had your father’s tenacity, his thirst for victory, and for your own reputation. He saw himself fully when he stared down at you. 

“Indeed you shall, for you are my daughter. The Realm will know your name for generations to come, and those who cross you and your mighty Maestron will quake in their boots, I am sure of it.” He smiled genuinely and gave you a pat on your head in affection.

“If my Maestron were to ever fall, I would surely ride the Cannibal.” You had every confidence in the world that your words were true. "I am brave enough."

“Will you now?” His tone was teasing as he lifted your squirming body into his strong arms. Your giggles and screams filled the air as he nibbled at your shoulder playfully. “Such girlish screams from the fiercest dragonrider of the realm.” He tickled you without mercy. “The Cannibal would eat you up as if you were one of those little cakes you sneak from the kitchens when you think no one is watching. One bite and you would be gobbled up.” Your giggles continued to ring through the air until he put you back down on your feet. 

“He is that big?” You were out of breath as you righted yourself in the sand, still smiling goofily up at your father. He looked down at you in adoration. 

You were his everything. 

There was a deep-rooted love he had for you that he never felt so wholly for anyone else in his life. He knew the second you entered the world -screaming and covered in blood- that he would burn kingdoms to the ground, would bring men to their knees, would do anything it took to make sure you prospered in the world he would inevitably leave behind. 

“He is.” Your father leaned down, holding his hand to your tiny, rounded cheek. “Massive, fierce, and just as lethal as Balerion was -though he lacks his size. You must promise me to stay clear of him.”

“I promise, Kepa.” You said sweetly, and you meant it because if this dragon scared your Kepa -a man undeniably invincible in your eyes- then the dragon was not to be trifled with.  

A knock at your door the following morning stilled Myra’s movements as she finished securing the final braid she was working on. 

“Enter.” You called out and the door opened. Baela was the first to enter with Rhaena closely behind. Two servants followed them in, each carrying a tray of assorted foods. 

You stood from your bench, quick to close the distance as you pulled your sisters in close to you. The servants moved past you and out to the balcony where they began to set each little plate onto the stone table. 

It was Rhaena who looked up at you first. She had tears in her eyes and you knew just how much of a toll all of this had taken on her. She was marrying Luke out of duty, but she grew up with him and cared for him in her own way all the same. His loss was taken hard by many. 

You placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then moved to Baela to do the same. 

“I have missed your beautiful faces dearly, my sweet girls.” They both had shining eyes as they returned your smile. 

“We’ve missed you!” Baela spoke as the girls separated themselves from you. “Father has been…”

“-Terrible,” Rhaena interjected, earning a warning look from Baela. 

“He has not been the same. Neither has the Queen.” Baela explained. You nodded solemnly. Not wanting the girls to dwell on such sadness any longer, you quickly changed the subject. 

“I see you’ve brought a little feast with you.” You smiled once more, and they seemed to perk up. “I’m famished. Shall we?” You gestured to the balcony and followed behind them. 

As you sat across from your sisters, your eyes fell to the small pyramid of stacked marzipan cakes, and you were immediately transported back to the cold, dark, stale dungeons with your itchy blanket and your three-pawed rat. You felt sweat drip down the back of your neck and your eye twitched ever so slightly. Rhaena’s voice was nothing more than babbling to your ears -completely unintelligible- until Baela called your name, snapping you out of your trance. 

Your eyes snapped up and both girls were staring at you. 

“My apologies.” You cleared your throat. “I am…still not quite myself. Forgive me.” Your smile did not reach your eyes, but the excuse seemed to quell Rhaena enough that she started chatting once more while adding fruits, cheeses, toasts and jams to her plate. Baela, on the other hand, kept looking at you until you gave her one more unconvincing smile. “Please,” You gestured to the food and began to take little bits here and there to busy your shaking hands. You weren’t really hungry -your appetite not returning in full quite yet- but it was the sight of the cakes that turned your stomach to lead. 

Still, they had made the effort to see you at the first chance they could, and they thought ahead so much as to have the kitchens prepare all of this just for you. You would eat to please them. It was the least you could do. 

“You haven’t touched the marzipan cakes.” Rhaena pointed out midway through the meal. “I know they are your favorite, and I know it is still only the morning,” She shot a glare over to Baela, “but we thought you’d like a little comfort to welcome you home.” A small comfort, Aemond had described them himself. It took every bit of willpower to not upchuck what little you had just consumed. You schooled your face, hoping your absolute dread did not cross your features. Baela watched you carefully. 

“They were Rhaena’s idea.” Baela acquiesced. “I told her it was too early for cakes, but she insisted.” 

Rhaena looked so hopeful that her idea pleased you. You reached your hand over the table and took hers within your palm. You saw both of their eyes glance to your wrist, but neither said anything. You were grateful. 

“Your kindness knows no bounds, Rhaena. What have I done to deserve you? The both of you?” Genuine love and gratitude reflected in your eyes as you looked at the girls. “I am merely saving the cakes for my breakfast dessert. Doesn’t that sound like a treat?“ Rhaena giggled as you looked over at her with a playfully conspiratorial grin. Truthfully, you’d sooner eat a rock than touch those cakes. You didn’t know if you could keep a single bite down even if you wanted to, but that bridge would be crossed when the time came. Until then, you would not dwell on it. 

“You are going easy on me, Ser Erryk. Why? Do you think I am incapable of learning this?” Your tone held a bite to it, frustration lacing your every word. 

“It is not that I think you are incapable, my Princess.” The knight sighed, letting his blunted training sword drop to his side.

“Then what is it?” You demanded. “Why do you balk at the notion of me wielding a blade?”

“It’s just…you have me, my Princess.” He replied. “This is simply not necessary.” You rolled your eyes. 

“You cannot be everywhere, Ser Erryk.” You argued.

“But I will be everywhere you are, my Princess. I am to join you in the North, as my Queen has commanded. Where you go, I will follow. I’ve sworn it to you and to the Queen that I shall be your protector until my very last breath. I do not take my oath lightly.” Erryk’s brows were pinched together. “Perhaps I am not- '' You cut off your knight sternly. You panted heavily as sweat dripped from the sides of your face. 

“-Perhaps if you will not do it, Ser Erryk, I shall find someone who will. Though their skill will not be a match to yours, I am sure.” You sighed as you lessened the space between yourself and the knight. “You do not know what it is like to feel powerless, unable to fend for yourself.” Your head dropped in shame. “Through the entire ordeal with Aemond, from Storm’s End to the dungeons of the Red Keep, I was weak -pitifully weak- and I’ve since vowed to myself that I will never feel defenseless again.” You looked up at him once more. “A war is upon us and even if I were to never meet a battlefield, it would make no difference. I will be prepared. I will learn to wield this blade,” You shook the smallsword in your hand, “-So that I may never endure what I have at the hands of any man, ever again in my life. So again I ask: Will you take this seriously, Ser? Or need I look elsewhere?” Erryk looked at you sternly for a moment, analyzing you before he bowed his head with a heavy sigh.

“I will, my Princess. My apologies.”

Dragon fire blazed across the gray skies and storm clouds swirled overhead. The sounds of battle on the ground below could be heard from so far up in the sky. You could see, though it wasn’t from your own eyes. The world around you was made of color that your eyes would never be able to see. It was a forbidden beauty, not seen by the human eye. Craning your head to the left, you saw onyx wings. The ombré of black to a deep purple within the leathery membranes cast a spark in your mind. 

The Cannibal. 

There was a grip on your mind -or his, you couldn’t differentiate. It was like that of a fist and it clenched firm. The feeling was not painful, but you were all too aware of its unpleasant presence. 

The beast soared lower to the battlefield below, neon flame burst from the Cannibal’s mouth, turning all in his wake to ash and char. The air around you sizzled as he accelerated up into the sky. 

To feel as a dragon feels is overwhelming in every sense of the word. The raw power, the speed, the might -all of it was too much for a mere human to bear.

A young dragon, only just large enough to carry a rider, caught your eye. The beast’s scales were a beautiful cobalt, while the crest and tail were an orange rust. A burst of adrenaline flowed through the Cannibal’s body -your body- as he surged towards the much smaller dragon with a terror-inducing roar. 

A young rider -looking similar in age to Jace- was on its back, and you saw despair shroud over the young man as the Cannibal approached. His Targaryen features were akin to that of the Usurper Aegon’s, and you knew then that this could only be young Daeron. You hoped the fear on Aegon’s own face would look just the same as his youngest brother’s did when he meets his own end. 

When the young man saw the unstoppable mass that was coming for him, he nor his dragon stood a chance -and just as Vhagar had ripped Luke and Arrax from the sky, the Cannibal did the very same. There was no remorse to be had in the bloody wake of war. 

Bloodlust was the only descriptor you could use for the feeling that swept upon the dragon as he swallowed what chunks of flesh remained in mouth. You tasted it as if your own jaws had taken young Daeron’s life, though it did not taste of salt and iron. It was satisfying, delectable. It fueled the dragon’s lust for chaos and ruin, and that is the path he continued on. 

Another mighty roar was let loose from the Cannibal’s maw as he circled the battle overhead, and a deeper roar echoed in the distance in response. 

The Cannibal turned in the open sky quickly to charge in the direction of the dragon who dared call back to him in challenge. 

Your own eyes opened to the darkness that surrounded you before the dragon came into view. You knew who it was, deep in your bones. The monstrous bellows of Vhagar, for as long as she lived, would haunt you.  

Sweat coated your skin, sticking you to your sheets uncomfortably. At some point in the night, you had shucked off your nightgown and now the chill bit at your exposed skin. The cool air hit your bare flesh as it blew in from the open balcony door. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Looking down at your hands, they trembled fiercely. 

A dragon dream. 

This could not be a coincidence, not after the dream you had the previous night. Both were so vibrant, so real. 

You stood from your bed, grabbing the robe that hung on the post next to it. Shrugging it on, you didn’t bother to tie it as you walked to your balcony to look towards the Dragonmont. 

A black mass, visible from where you stood, flew over the village below. 

“You have the advantage of a smaller blade at this close proximity to your opponent.” Ser Erryk grunted as he all but manhandled you towards the rocky alcove behind you on the beach. He had taken your plea to heart, and as happy as you were that he did, it was an embarrassingly humbling experience. 

Your feet tripped through the sand as you tried to simply not lose any ground, but Ser Erryk was unrelenting. 

“The size of your opponent does not matter so long as you know where to place your feet.” With that, you tripped on a rock behind your heel and he used that as an opportunity to push your back against the alcove. His sword’s length lay across your chest to show you what a stupid split second decision will end in. “And now you are dead.” He breathed, inches from your face. 

You panted, becoming increasingly aware of how close Erryk was to you. He removed his sword and looked down at you with a softness in his eyes. 

“Well…” You swallowed. “...at least I’ll have you.” You said, teasingly. He raised a brow at you and released you from his hold, but you caught the tilt of his lips all the same when he turned towards the shore. 

“Again.” Ser Erryk urged, raising his sword once more. 

The biting wind whipped through your hair as the Cannibal flew at break-neck speeds. Viewing through your own eyes this time around, you looked down to your gauntleted hands that tightly held onto the saddlehorn. You could feel as the influence of the dragon flowed through your veins and you truly felt invincible.

Movement below caught your eyes. Vhagar, in all her might, bellowed out a cannon of flame one last time as she plummeted to the waters below with a thundering crash. A tidal wave echoed to the shores, drowning any poor soul who stood too near the water’s edge. You could not believe your eyes. Circling the Cannibal around above, you watched as Vhagar sank to the depths below, steam rising from the waters above her.  

The Cannibal roared in a victorious threat of dominance to any remaining dragons in the sky, friend or foe, now that his largest adversary had perished.  

Arrows flew past you, bouncing off of the Cannibals impenetrable scales and narrowly missing your face by mere inches. The dragon shifted direction to fly higher in the sky to evade any rogue arrows that could potentially hit their targets. 

Gaping wounds were slashed across the Cannibal’s neck and flank -marks made by teeth and claws- but they did not seem to bother him. If anything, they pushed him further to decimate everything and everyone in his path with pure fury. 

You awoke with clarity. It was as if your eyes had been truly opened for the first time and a sense of purpose settled deep in your chest. 

Dressing yourself with haste, you snuck through the secret passages of the Keep. Slinking in the shadows, you bypassed where you knew guards and knights alike would be stationed until you made it outside and to the stables -your face hidden by the hood of your cloak.

The ride to the village took no longer than half an hour by horseback. The moon was bright enough to see the road ahead of you, and Dragonstone was one of the safest places within the realm to wander freely. Even still, your smallsword was tied snuggly to your hip as a precaution. 

Just outside of the village, down the road a ways, was a small homestead surrounded by livestock pens. Goats, cows, horses, pigs, and chickens could be heard now that you’ve seemed to have disturbed the entire yard.

A herd dog -a white, fluffy beast of a thing with a dripping muzzle- barked in alert at your arrival, keeping an eye on you to make sure you did not cause harm to his charges. You kept your distance, giving the dog a wide berth, and stopped your horse just before the gate to the walkway of the home. It was by no means big, maybe a bedroom or two, a living space, and possibly a small area to cook. It was modest, but comfortable. 

Walking up to the door, you pounded three hard knocks onto it that were sure to wake the occupants inside. It took a few moments, but the door opened a crack.

“What do you want?” A man all but growled through the crack in the door.   

“Your goats. I would like to purchase two of them.” You replied sternly.

“Come back at a reasonable hour, girl. I will be selling no goats of mine at this time of night.” The man sneered as he attempted to close the door in your face, but the toe of your boot held it open. You dangled a coin purse in front of the door, jangling the gold pieces inside. The pressure against your foot eased and a haggard, dirty old face filled the small space. 

“You don’t know my price.” He looked at you suspiciously. 

“Your price is my price. I assure you, it is more than you’d ask and more than they’re worth.” You spoke plainly. This seemed to win the man over and he opened the door fully. 

“What are you doing buying goats at the hour of the owl anyway?” The man questioned as he stepped out of the house, closing the door behind him. 

“My business is my own. I’m sure you understand.” You replied, looking at the animals that walked up to their fences curiously. 

“Aye.” He gave you a once over, eyeing you nervously. Your face was shrouded by the hood of your cloak, but a flash of silver hair did catch his eye. The man nodded and led you to the goat pen.

“I’ll take the biggest two you have. Tie them together so they do not wander. My horse is on the road.” With that, you tossed him the pouch and turned to return to your mount. 

You sat patiently upon the horse’s back. It only took the man a few minutes to wrangle the bleating goats. Their incessant chatter only got louder the closer they got to you. 

“For you, miss.” The man handed her the end of the rope. You took it within your gloved hand, tying it to the saddlehorn. 

“I shall return at the same time tomorrow, and every night forward for the foreseeable future. Each night I will need an animal larger than the last. I will pay you fairly, of course.” The man blinked up at you, but nodded nonetheless. 

“Of course.” He mirrored. 

“I do apologize for waking you at such an hour.” You kicked the horse gently to begin trotting. “I hope sleep finds you well, sir. Good night.” With that you continued down the road towards the Dragonmont. 

It was another hour or so before you made it to the base of the Mont. The goats had run alongside you obediently. If anything, they seemed to love the exercise. 

Fleeting happinesses, you supposed. 

You pulled the horse to a stop as the path became too difficult to walk it up safely and tied the horse to a tree that was hidden among the brush so none of the dragons would find an easy meal. The walk back to the Keep on foot was not ideal. 

The path to the western side of the Dragonmont was frequently taken. The gravel was clear of debris and overgrown weeds unlike the eastern path before you. It was daunting, you would not lie, and the darkness did not boost your confidence. 

Steam and smoke billowed into the air high above you. The air smelled of sulfur and a scent that was distinctly dragon. You could hear the chittering of the beasts both wild and bonded as their calls echoed from within the volcano’s passages and vents. 

It hurt your heart to know Maestron’s own distinct call was not among them. It would take time to undo all of the natural reflexes in your mind regarding him that were no longer natural. You had a lifetime with him, so to live with his absence was what you’d imagine it was like to lose a spouse. It was a piece of you, gone.

You held tightly onto the rope and pushed ahead, determined to continue on. It was a long, arduous hike to the back of the eastern side of the Mont. Crags had chipped and fallen onto the path over time, making it difficult terrain for you to cross over at some points, much less with the two goats who did their best to make sure this trek was as difficult as possible for you. 

You wretched little beasts, you thought as you tugged at their rope. You have no idea what awaits you.

By the time you made it relatively close to your endpoint, you were sweating profusely. Your clothes stuck to you uncomfortably and your skin felt clammy in the warm air. The moon was still high in the sky, so you felt like you made pretty good time thus far.      

The closer you got to the cave’s entrance, the more bones littered the ground at your feet. It was a graveyard menagerie, a collection of both animal and human skeletal remains alike. 

Still, you only felt the magic within you grow stronger, pulling you to the darkness ahead. Finding an alcove of stone at the mouth of the cave for protection, you hid and listened. One of the wretched goats let out a bleat and you wanted to wring its neck with your bare hands. 

The sniffing of a dragon’s nostrils could be heard. It was a long-winded sweeping sound that was loud and clear. The beast inside was scenting what dared to lurk outside of his nest. Still, he did not approach and instead waited for you to come to him. He was an ambush predator, your father had explained once, and he loved the thrill of the hunt -especially if the element of surprise was involved. 

“I hold no fear in my heart for you.” You spoke out loud for the dragon to hear, still pushed into the crevice. A deep rumbling vibrated through the pitch black cave, just as it had in your dream. “You called to me, or I called to you. Either way, the call was answered.” 

A deep bellow came from within the cave, echoing into the night. 

“I know that you hold no love for anyone or anything, but I’ve brought you a gift. Accept it and I shall be on my way to return your peace as it was. Tomorrow, I shall be back to do the same, and one day I wish to look upon you as we did within the dream but I will remain patient.” 

You allow the curious goats to wander into the cave, still tied together by their necks with two connecting loops of rope. The clicking of their tiny hooves echoed as they stepped further and further into the cave fearlessly. 

Their incessant bleating was cut short by a burst of flame that shot from the entrance, charring everything in its path. The flames were vibrantly yellow, just as they were in your dream, and they took up the enormity of the cave’s mouth from top to bottom. 

The heat licked at your skin even from where you hid. The tiny hairs on your forearms swayed from the force of the gusts as you brought them up to shield your eyes from the brightness. Your chest buzzed as if a colony of angry bees had nested within it, smashing against your ribs to be let free. 

The visceral sounds of flesh ripping, bones crunching, and entrails sloshing met your ears. 

Good, he had accepted your offering. 

“You are sluggish.” Ser Erryk narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “More so than usual.” He threw in the jab teasingly, but he let you know that he took note of your lack of performance during this training session. 

Your limbs were heavy and sore from your previous lessons, as well as from the trek up and down the side of the Dragonmont, and you swore you would’ve fallen over had the breeze been just slightly more of a gust than it was.

“You forget that I do not have a lifetime of strenuous activity, Ser.” You grumbled crankily as you dropped to the sand to sit for a moment. You did not get back to your chambers until the hour of the nightingale began to approach. It seemed as if you had merely blinked your eyes before Myra entered your chambers so you could prepare for your training session. “I was raised as a soft lady, much to my detriment, and soft ladies do not strain themselves.” Ser Erryk did not look impressed at your whining, but allowed you to take a break nonetheless. “I am adjusting,” You shielded your eyes from the sun with the palm of your hand to look up at him. “And gaining a newfound appreciation for what you do. You make it look effortless.” Erryk dropped to the sand next to you.

“As you’ve said, my Princess, I have a lifetime of honing my skill with a sword. It will come to you in time, but you must be patient and persistent.” Squinting as you stared just a second too long at him, you cracked a smile.

“Perhaps, if you are feeling generous, you could take me on as your squire.” Ser Erryk barked a laugh as he stood back up, dusting the sand off of his trousers before extending a hand to pull you up. 

Just as you promised the farmer, you had returned nightly to collect pigs, sheep, more goats, a mule, and now -on the tenth night- a cow. This time around, you had a companion with you.

Ser Erryk had been tipped off on your nightly excursions outside of the castle walls after interrogating the poor stable boy you had paid off to have your horse saddled and ready for you, and to say it disturbed the knight greatly would be an understatement. It wasn’t until this night that he had finally caught you.

“My Princess, I must insist that you stay within the walls of the Keep.” Erryk’s unmistakable voice stopped you as you pulled the horse from its stall. Turning, you saw that he was waiting for you in the deep shadows of the stables. His eyes held exasperation as he stepped into the moonlight. “For your safety.”

“Insist all you’d like, Ser Erryk.” You inspected the strap of the saddle and loaded yourself onto the horse. Erryk stepped in front of you, making your horse stamp his hoof. “You may join me if it will ease your worries, but I will not be staying put. Stay or follow -it matters not to me, Ser. Either way, I will return before the sun rises.” You finished with a raise of your brow in challenge. He could very well alert the rest of the guards to your presence, thus awakening the whole castle. The last thing you needed was your father breathing down your neck regarding this matter. You did not keep many things from him, but this was something you could not utter a single word to him about until the matter was set in stone.

Erryk insisted on joining you if he could not talk you out of staying put, as was his knightly duty, and so he rode a horse beside you as you came upon the farmer’s homestead. 

Just as he had the eight nights after your initial visit, the farmer was waiting at the gates of his yard, the protective dog sitting by his feet. His tail wagged when he saw you, now familiar with your nightly visits. 

Tied to the fence was a large cow, chewing the grass that grew around the wooden post. Reaching into your cloak, you tossed the purse to the farmer, just as you had every night past. He untied the cow from the fence and tied the rope to your saddle, and off you went without a single word exchanged. 

Ser Erryk watched the exchange curiously, but not as curiously as the man had watched the knight who was very obviously a member of the Queen’s Guard. Still, not a word was spoken as the pair of you made off with your livestock. You were a good ways down the road, nearly halfway to the base of the Mont, when Ser Erryk spoke. 

“You spend your nights buying livestock?” His question held a cheeky tone to it, and you would give it right back to him.

“I do.” You grinned over at him.

“You risk your life out here alone for cows?”

“Risk my life? Hardly, Ser Erryk.” You scoffed. “And it isn’t just for cows. It was also sheep…and goats…and pigs,” You listed. “Oh! And a mule last night.” 

“What do you do with these animals? I did not take you for a farmer.”

“That would be a very silly thing, wouldn’t it?” You humored him. 

“It really would be, Princess.” The conversation died after that and it didn’t take much longer to get to the base of the Dragonmont. Both of you dismounted and hid your horses amongst the trees. Untying the cow, you led her to the eastern path you had traveled many times up to this point. Ser Erryk followed behind you hesitantly.  

“It is not my place to question you, my Princess,” He cleared his throat. “but I must know what we are doing here.” Erryk’s eyes were on a constant swivel as he watched out diligently for danger. 

“We are going up to the Dragonmont, Ser Erryk.” You stated simply as you continued on. It would take about an hour, as you had timed before, to hike up to the cave. With the heifer it may take longer depending on how cooperative she was going to be. 

“I’ve gathered as much, my Princess.” He sighed. “The cow is what I have questions about.” Erryk had a sinking feeling in his gut, but he needed to hear you confirm his suspicions before he acted.

“It is a gift.” You replied cryptically, a grin playing at your lips. Your eyes surveyed the tumultuous ground for anything that would cause you to lose your footing.

“For whom?” Ser Erryk stumbled, quickly righting himself. 

“For what, is the question you should be asking.” You answered cheekily. “This heifer is a gift for the Cannibal, if you must know.” Ser Erryk stopped dead in his tracks, his brows furrowed. 

“You jest.” He spoke, all royal pretenses dropped as he looked at you. His lips were set in a deep frown.

“I’ve never jested in my life, Ser.” You teased, and did not falter in your steps up the inclined overgrown pathway. You did, however, shoot a smirk over your shoulder at the knight. Erryk jogged to catch up with you and stopped in front of you, halting your advances with his hand extended. The cow mooed without a care in the world, dropping its head to chew on a patch of wildflowers on the side of the trail. They were the last living patch of greenery this far up.

“Princess, I cannot allow you to go up there.” Erryk looked distraught, his eyes wide and full of terror. “It would be suicide.”  

“Allow me? Let me make myself abundantly clear -you do not allow me to do anything, Ser Erryk.” You looked up at the knight in challenge. Taking a good look at him in the moonlight, his handsome, angular face was accentuated. He and his brother, though nearly identical, had characteristics that differentiated them. You had always naturally preferred Erryk over Arryk during any of your interactions, and seeing as how Erryk was now sworn to your family -to you- you had instinctually made the right choice. 

Erryk wasn’t the type of handsome that knights like Ser Criston were -prettily handsome- but he was ruggedly handsome all the same. His eyes were bright and his face was expressive, though it was more than just his face that drew you in. He was tall, broad, strong, passionate, loyal to a fault, and absolutely lethal with a sword. Erryk Cargyll was everything a knight should be and you were more than pleased to have him at your side. 

“I apologize, my Princess. I meant no offense. It is only your safety that I must keep as my highest priority.” His head was bowed, though he looked up at you when you responded.

“Duly noted, Ser Erryk.” You took a step closer to the knight. “I’m going to tell you something that only your ears will be privy to, as I know you can be trusted wholly. No one, not even my father, knows what I’ve been doing up here on the Dragonmont.”

“As apprehensive as I am about this, it is an honor to be held in such high regard, my Princess. My ears are yours.” And he meant it -you know he did. Your voice was soft and airy as you spoke. He was the only soul you would dare tell this to, as he would swear his silence if you asked it of him. Your father, for as much as he loved you, would only look at you the way he looked at his brother when he spoke of Aegon’s Dream. That look of disappointment was not something you took lightly, nor could you bear the weight of it and everything that would follow. 

The cow’s rope fell from your hands, though the cow stood as if you were still holding it. You pulled the hood of your cloak off, baring your face to the knight. Your trembling hands clasped his armored ones and held tightly, startling him with your touch. 

“Ten and three nights past, I had my first dream, Erryk. A dream I’ve never experienced before, but I had two more in just as many nights following. They were not the dreams of fantasy, Erryk. All three of them were as Aegon the Conqueror’s dream, of Daenys’ premonitions. My father does not believe them, naturally. He is practical, if he is anything, which is why I have not spoken to him about this, but that is beside the point.” You took another step closer, Erryk’s hands nearly touching your stomach, and you looked up at the tall knight with what some might describe as lucid madness. Your lilac eyes glowed in the moonlight, Erryk noted. 

“My Uncle Viserys used to speak of these dreams. He was adamant that they were the truth. I had heard of them as a child and thought they were merely tales myself. How could something that happened in the land of sleep be real? Now I know. It was real to Aegon. It was real to Daenys. She  prophesied that Valyria would fall, and the line of Targaryen would be demolished. Had Aenar not listened to her, I would not be standing before you, Erryk. The dragons you see today would no longer exist.” Your lashes fluttered as you spoke feverishly and Erryk could only listen on with apprehension continuing to grow within him. “Aegon himself truly believed the fall of man would come to be. He saw it, he felt it.” 

“The fall of man has not happened, Princess.”

“Yet!” You hissed. “It hasn’t happened yet!” You felt Erryk’s fingers tighten around yours to hold you steady. “What I saw and what I felt was real, Erryk. I saw it, I smelled it, I tasted it, I touched it. All of it was real.” Your words sounded more like pleas to the knight to merely believe you. 

“In the first dream, I saw the Cannibal. I was as close to him as I am to you. His fire danced around me as he looked at me and I looked at him, and we understood one another.” Your breathing was erratic, just as your words were. “There was a tendril that pulled us together, connected us in a way that only exists between a rider and a dragon. In the second dream I saw through the Cannibal’s eyes, Erryk. I felt what he felt, I tasted what he tasted. I breathed fire and scorched the earth. Through his eyes, I felt what it was to fly over mountains and oceans -over battlefields and castles. And in the final dream, I saw Vhagar.” Erryk’s brows furrowed as you smiled deliriously. “I saw her! Riding upon the Cannibal’s back I saw her fall to her doom, Erryk.” Manic tears burst forth from your eyes. 

“I was there! I do not know where it was, but she perished.” Your chest heaved. “These dreams cannot be mere coincidence.” Erryk took in your words, his mind spinning frantically as he tried to process his response. You spoke so earnestly, but it was hard for him to believe what you were saying as reality. It may have been your truth, but your current mental state may also be aligned with fiction. 

“May I speak freely, my Princess?” He spoke gently, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of your hands to calm you down.

“Of course.” You breathed, your eyes shining with hope that he’d understand what you were saying.

“...Perhaps…perhaps this is your way of dealing with your grief. So much has happened and you have not had the proper time to process it.” Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were freefalling from a cliff. Perhaps this is what it would’ve felt like had Aemond let you run off the edge of Massey’s Hook. 

Erryk’s brows were downturned and his eyes shined with pity when you visibly deflated. You pulled your hands from his and crossed your arms over your chest to bring your defenses up.

“I’ve dealt with my grief! I’m still dealing with my grief!” You spat. “They were dragon dreams, Erryk!” You nearly shouted. “I know they were! I have been climbing this trail up and down the Mont, for hours of each way every single night since I had the third dream. I’ve visited the Cannibal every night -this night being the tenth, and I live to tell the tale, Erryk! When has he let anyone step foot near his nest and live? When?” You pushed angrily.

“I…Ido not know what to say, my Princess.” In truth, Ser Erryk had a lot he’d like to say, but he’d also like to keep his head attached to his shoulders. He would also like to not become the next offering to the Cannibal if what you spoke of was genuine truth. He could not make heads nor tails of the situation. You took a step back from Erryk and sighed, picking up the fallen rope within your hands. 

“You insisted on accompanying me, Ser Erryk, but I will not fault you for staying behind while I continue forward. The Cannibal is unpredictable and I cannot promise your safety should you follow.” You said seriously, sniffling as you ran a shaking hand over your face. Erryk looked between you, the cow, and the steaming volcanic vents of the Dragonmont behind you. 

“This dragon calls to me, Erryk.” You whispered. “You may not believe me, nor do you understand it, but I feel it in the furthest depths of my being. It is not the same as my bond with Maestron was, but the magic is there and it will only grow stronger with time should he accept me. The fact that the Cannibal has not ended my existence is encouragement enough. Now,” You gave the cow a pat to its flank as you fixed Erryk with your stare. “You can help me get this beast to the eastern side of the Mont, or you can return to the Keep and carry on with your other duties -whatever they should be at the hour of the wolf.”

“My only duties are with you, Princess.” Ser Erryk said without hesitation. “Day or night, I shall not leave your side.” His eyes held a softness as they looked down at you, but still, he kept his mouth shut. 

“Very well.” You nodded and handed the rope to the knight. Erryk dutifully followed behind you with the cow in tow. 

The familiar boneyard came into view and you stopped Erryk from going forward. 

“It is not much further from here. I must stress to you that whatever you see -whatever you hear- you must remain calm. He will know you are with me. He will catch your scent if he hasn’t already. Stay out of sight and say a quick prayer to the Seven that you make it to see the sunrise, Ser Erryk. Your bravery tonight will not be forgotten.” You smiled softly at him, your palm coming up to rest on his cheek. 

Erryk knew what was at stake. He knew the possibility of neither of you coming out of this alive was high. Still, he followed you to the end as he had sworn he would. An armored finger rested under your chin and tilted your face up just the slightest bit. 

“I shall not leave you, Princess.” He spoke gently. It was a promise that would be kept. He may not have believed you, but still, he’d follow you to your end. You nodded, tears lining your eyes. They sparkled like diamonds in the moonlight, entrancing the knight. 

Erryk could not deny the pull that drew him to you, but even in what he projected was his last hour in this life, he would not allow himself to act rashly for you were his Princess and he had a duty to uphold. If a man could not keep his oath, even with the Stranger looming ever closer, then what was he worth? 

Reputation meant everything, in life and in death. 

“Come.” You whispered, taking the rope from Erryk and leading the cow behind you. A comfortable silence blanketed the pair of you as you walked. Erryk decided, in that moment, that he would allow himself one final comfort in this life. It was bold, but uncompromising. 

He pulled the glove and gauntlet off of his left hand, freeing his fingers from the leather and metal. He grasped your hand tenderly within his own calloused palm, affectionately tangling your more delicate fingers with his. 

You turned to look at Erryk and his profile looked as if it was carved from stone in the glow of the moonlight. The breeze lifted his long hair that rested on his back, swirling it around his shoulders. You squeezed his much larger hand and smiled with a shy dip of your head. Returning the smile, Erryk decided that this would be enough. There were worse ways to leave this life.

Silently you carried on, hand in hand with your knight as you approached the final bend. Erryk could feel the stone tremble beneath his feet and his heart nearly stopped dead in his chest. You gave his hand one last squeeze before releasing it. You ushered him into the alcove that you hid in the first time you came to approach the Cannibal. 

“You will stay here and do not come out unless you are certain I am dead.” Erryk’s jaw dropped in shock. “Do not look at me like that. Please, promise me you will stay put.” Erryk’s jaw clenched, anger and frustration building up inside of him. How could you ask him to do nothing while you faced the most ferocious beast on this island? 

Once more you brought your hand to his bearded cheek. “I believe what I saw, Erryk. I know you don’t, but I truly do. I need you to trust me as I trust you -wholly and without question.” Erryk’s brows furrowed and he held your stare for a few moments before he relented against his better judgment. 

“Okay.” He whispered. “Okay.” You nodded, caressing his jaw for a moment more before leaving him in the alcove. He could see you perfectly through a crack in the stone as you approached the mouth of the cave with the cow in tow. It was the same crack in the slab of stone that you watched through the first night you visited the Cannibal.

Surely this is what it felt like to wait for the swing of the executioner’s sword, Erryk thought to himself. To know you are going to die a gruesome death, but first you had to wait for your turn at the chopping block. 

“Another offering, as I’ve promised.” You called into the darkness, patting the rump of the cow to encourage her to walk forward. The clip-clop of her hooves echoed slowly as she disappeared from view. The deep rumble of the Cannibal’s purr reverberated through Erryk’s own chest as he watched on with baited breath. You moved out of the mouth of the cave and to the side, only separated from Erryk by the slab of stone he peeked through. 

A blinding flash of yellow flame shot through the mouth of the cave. Erryk had to cover his eyes, but you had welcomed the brightness from where you stood with an unhinged smile gracing your face. The flames lasted for five long seconds. You counted it time and time again with each offering you brought, learning more of the dragon with each passing night. That was his preferred roasting time, you figured. 

Darkness encased the cave once more. The tell-tale sounds of bones crunching and flesh tearing met your ears. 

There was a theory you had worked out in your brain that you purposefully failed to share with Erryk. Had you clued him in on what you were here to truly do, he wouldn’t think twice about letting the cow loose and throwing you over his shoulder to return back to the Keep kicking and screaming. 

He wouldn’t understand -not really. He couldn’t. The blood of the dragon did not run through his veins as it did yours.

You didn’t realize it until you were in the safety of the Keep at Dragonstone, but Aemond had fractured something within you. It dwelled in the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind and soul, and what you were about to do would either soder it back together or wipe it from existence entirely. Whatever the outcome, you would be set free. 

Erryk hissed your name directly as you began to disrobe where you stood. Your cloak fell to the ground in a heap. Next you kicked your boots to the left of it.

“What in the Seven are you doing?” Came Erryk’s panicked whisper. Your shirt, breeches, and smallclothes were tossed onto your cloak, and you moved your boots to hold the pile down. “Princess, please!” His gaze turned from you instantly as you stood bare as the day you were born before him. “This is madness.”

“No, Erryk. This is fate.” Your voice was calm as you turned away from him. The air, though warm this close to the volcano, still caused your nipples to peak and goosebumps to form on your naked skin. You freed your hair from the bands that held your braids together, tossing the strips of leather into your boot. 

“In the...off chance…that I do not return…tell my father what has transpired in full truth, and that I am sorry I did not keep my promise.” Erryk grabbed your wrist through the crevice, intent on not letting you go. He adamantly kept his eyes on yours, not daring to let them wander further down. You were not his to gaze freely upon, he chastised himself. And you never would be. He breathed your name once more, causing you to turn back to the knight. There was a deep sadness that swirled in his eyes as he gazed upon your moonlit face.

“Do not do this. I am begging you. If I have to carry you down the Dragonmont myself and tie you to my horse, I’ll do it.” You smiled at Erryk. “Your family has already lost you once. The Realm needs you, Princess. Please think!” Erryk’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes glistened. Stress poured from every feature and there was a slight tremor in the grip he had on you. You rested a hand upon his, gently prying his fingers away.

“This is my destiny, Erryk. This dragon will rid the Realm of all the vile creatures that dwell within it.” Your mind flashed to Aemond and Vhagar, to Aegon and Sunfyre, Daeron and Tessarion, to Alicent and her wretched father.

All would fall to the might of the Cannibal.

You felt it in your bones as you pulled your wrist free from Erryk’s grasp and stepped to the opening of the cave before he could stop you. The deep rumble of the Cannibal’s growl echoed in the cave, and his giant steps shook the Mont from within. Erryk was nearly hyperventilating as he watched. He did not dare blink an eye.

“You feel this.” You spoke freely into the void with a steady voice. It did not shake and there was no fear present. “We are connected. You would not spare me if I didn’t speak the truth.” The Cannibal’s growls only grew deeper, bordering a purr from the massive creature. “Prove to me that this is real, that we are one.” You held your arms wide as you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, face tilted to the sky above. “I welcome you.”

Erryk saw the flames before he could think. Hot, yellow fire shot from the cave as it had with the cow, and now you were fully engulfed. Erryk felt tears fall down the planes of his cheeks, his lips trembling terribly as he watched on as you were consumed by the dragonfire.

Gone. You were gone.

Failure emanated through his core, turning his stomach something fierce and he could do nothing but watch you perish. Erryk’s burning eyes clenched shut. 

He failed you. He failed his Queen. He failed the Realm.   

The continuous dragonfire made his eyes crack open. The flames lasted much longer than they had before and his jaw dropped in wonder.

The heat of the flames was nearly unbearable, but they did not burn your flesh. They felt like the warmest rays of the sun on the hottest summer day as the fire danced and licked your skin. The golden flames sparked and sizzled around you as you held your breath. Your feet left the stone floor for a mere blip of a moment in time and you felt it. Mere inches off the ground, the flames engulfed you fully. 

It was a lifetime within the fire, just as it had been within your dream, and in an instant you were shifted back to darkness. Your feet hit the ground with a slap, your knees wobbled at the force. Looking up, the sharp chartreuse eye of the Cannibal beckoned you forward and your legs moved on their own accord.

Erryk could not breathe as he watched you enter the Cannibal’s nest. You, who had roasted alive within the dragon’s flames mere seconds ago, before his very eyes, was now walking on your own two feet as if he didn’t see what he definitely just saw. He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes.

There wasn’t a single blemish on your skin, not a single burn marred your flesh. You should’ve been dead instantly, reduced to a pile of ash left to blow in the wind. 

At that moment, Erryk did not know what to do -what to think. Was he dead? It was the only semi-rational thought he could come up with. He leaned to the ledge of the cliff and vomited the little contents of his stomach he had left.

The growl of the Cannibal should’ve been terrifying, but you knew in that very moment that he would not kill you. He was just as stunned as you were in the revelation that you uncovered. This dragon was old and no creature had ever lived through his flames. 

Not once. 

Not until now. 

With each step closer, you felt the strength he emanated. Unadulterated raw power flowed through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes as you stood in the darkness. Bones and the dust of bones that had been stepped on for over a century littered the ground ahead of you. The stench of death and the heady, earthy scent of the dragon hung heavy in the air. 

The light of the moon stopped just ahead of you, but you saw the dragon shift in the darkness, his green eyes glowed from high above. Yellow embers shimmered from his belly, casting a faint glow to the nest from under his black scales, but they only illuminated bright enough to light the stone below him. 

The ground shook beneath your feet as he took long, lumbering steps towards your minuscule frame. You could still feel his flames around you, inside of you, though they weren’t physically there. The Cannibal’s head lowered menacingly and he tilted it to the side to look you over fully with one massive, angry eye. 

“Magnificent.” You whispered. The dragon growled and hummed “Issaros.” Stranger. The name fit him as the dragon himself was synonymous with death. 

Issaros bared his teeth to you, saliva dripping from his maw. The gusts of air from his exhales were like mighty winds from the sea with how close he was. 

“You have been free your whole existence. I do not wish to cage you, to tame you, to bind you to my will. I have great use for you, and you seek death…destruction…flesh.” You could see the interest pique in his eye as he continued to watch you with the threat of his teeth ever present. 

“I will make you an offer: Follow me North and allow me the privilege of riding upon you into battle. In return, I give you the freedom to feast freely upon man and beast alike, but only those I have deemed my enemies. There are plenty, I assure you. You shall never want for blood and flesh again, my friend. After the war is won, you shall return here to the Dragonmont, or any other place you deem worthy to dwell in. You will always have your freedom and regardless of the bond we now share, I will not hold you hostage to me. With this, you have my word.” You stepped closer, bringing a palm up to rest along a spike on his snout. His lips twitched back in warning, but he did not move from you nor did he snap his teeth. Your eyes met his once more.

“Will you accept this?”

Erryk sat outside of the cave in near total silence. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. He did not know. It wasn’t until the ground beneath him trembled immensely and a black mass exited the cave did he stand. 

Erryk’s hair flew back behind him as the massive dragon flapped his leathery wings and took off into the night sky. He felt the blood drain from his face when he saw a flash of your silver hair upon the Cannibal’s back as he ascended to the stars. 

You spoke truth, Erryk thought as he watched on with mental clarity. The proof was right in front of him and he did not dare blink should this be a figment of his imagination. 

Your head was tilted back and your arms were stretched out to either side of you. The cold wind felt refreshing on your naked flesh as the dragon tore through the sky. 

The deafening roar Issaros let out was bone-chilling and you had never before felt as powerful as you did in that very moment. With this ferocious killing machine beneath you, you would bring death and ruin to Aemond and all he held dear. 

If there was ever a formidable dragon that could battle against the likes of Vhagar, as you had prophesised, it was the dreaded Cannibal. 

What the dragon lacked in size by comparison, he had quadrupled in viciousness, ruthlessness, and cunning. He was a predator through and through, and had no qualms about killing for the sport of it. 

And he deemed you worthy to sit upon him. 

To sit upon a dragon so large was unlike anything you had ever felt. The only other times were when your father had taken you upon Caraxes as a girl, but that had been many years past. This, as an experienced dragon rider, made you feel invincible. 

Issaros screeched at any other dragon who dared to come remotely near him in warning as he glided through the night sky. Most, if not all, knew of his temperament. 

“They are needed.” You called to the dragon. “When this war is over, you may do with them as you wish, but for now they must live.” You felt his irritation, but he heeded your words all the same. 

“If my Maestron were to ever fall, I would surely ride the Cannibal.” It was a prophecy spoken at such a tender age and you didn’t even know it. The words were a fantasy, said in the heat of the moment as a child, but those words had come to pass. Just as Daenys’ prophetic words had come to pass. Just as Aegon’s dream was sure to come to fruition.

The flames of magic flowed through your blood as the Cannibal flew through the skies in a miraculous display. It felt as though your ribs were expanding, like you could take infinite air within your lungs. To feel such an intense connection with such a wild dragon not only mended what Aemond had fractured, but it evolved something else deep within you. 

You wanted blood. 

You wanted retribution. 

You wanted vengeance. 

Erryk’s eyes were wide as he stared openly at you when you exited the cave. Soot painted over your body from the dragon fire and your hair was a mess of tangles from the wind. Streaks of blood littered your nude body from small cuts made by the dragon’s tough scales. 

Erryk quickly removed his cloak when he saw your legs begin to buckle in your delirious steps towards him. When you were clear of the cave’s mouth, he ran to you and swept you into his arms, his warm cloak wrapped around you to preserve your modesty. 

“I need a moment.” You mumbled against his chest. Your hand grasped onto the shoulder strap of his plated armor as he set you in the alcove he had been hidden behind. Erryk made sure his cloak was tightly wrapped around you when you shivered. 

The knight crept over to your discarded belongings to hastily retrieve them. He tried not to jump when he heard the Cannibal’s purr rumble in the darkness, but his heart pounded furiously in his chest as he backed away slowly until he was shielded once more in the alcove. 

Erryk stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. Sprawled on your back, one arm stretched over your head and the other draped over your stomach. His cloak was pulled up to reveal your legs and covered only your more intimate areas. The ethereal glow of your skin in the moonlight was more than he, a man so strong in his convictions, could handle. 

The scene before him could’ve been a painting, and it would be imprinted on his mind for the rest of his life. You had bewitched him, he thought as his stomach flipped and his heart sang. What he witnessed on this night was more than enough to convince him that you would change the Realm. For better or worse, he could not tell, but he would remain at your side. 

Erryk allowed you a moment’s rest, but the moon was slowly dropping in the sky and the hour of the nightingale would soon be upon you. The lighter it got, the harder it would be to sneak your way back to the stables. 

Erryk turned his back to you so you could sluggishly dress, then he took you in his arms once more to carry you down the Dragonmont. 

Your fluttering eyes met his when he glanced down at you. Your palm came up to rest on his bearded cheek in a sweet caress. 

“Rest, my Princess. I shall wake you when we’ve reached the horses.” 

Days had passed since you took Ser Erryk to the Dragonmont, and he had returned with you every night since. Your trainings had also continued, and just as he promised, you were slowly gaining an understanding of the craft. You were by no means a warrior, but your footwork was improving and you had begun to think on the offense rather than wait to be cornered into defense. 

Since that first night on the Mont, Erryk let his touch linger as he instructed you. He got closer, though it never progressed to anything more. You knew he’d never cross that line, much less put you in such a predicament. Erryk worked his entire life to be at his current station and you would not squander that for him. 

Still, the temptation lit a fire within you with every touch and glance he gave you. The feelings, though they were forbidden, existed all the same. 

At this point in the night Erryk would be waiting for you at the stables, but tonight he was not there by the time you arrived. He’d usually have your horse ready for you, but you didn’t mind saddling it yourself. You were adjusting the straps to the saddle on his borrowed horse when he trotted past you. 

“Ser Erryk!” You called when he didn’t even spare you a glance. He pulled the horse to a stop and turned in your direction. “Where have you been off to?” You questioned in confusion. As far as you knew, he was in his quarters resting before your excursion. 

Erryk looked at you with wide eyes as if he was looking at a ghost. He kept the horse stock still for a moment before dismounting and taking cautious steps closer to you. 

“I had a task set by the Queen, Princess.” You noted that his movements seemed off. His gait held a different stride, and his voice was slightly higher. Brows furrowed, you tilted your head as you continued to analyze him. “I must report back to her at once, Princess.” His tone was impatient and he spoke to you as if you were a stranger. Something must’ve happened for Erryk to be this short with you. 

“In that case, if you do not feel up to the ride, you may stay here. Tonight will be no different than the others.” You offered, knowing he would turn you down. You would give him some time to debrief with your mother and then he would insist on joining you. 

That is…not what happened, much to your surprise. 

“I’m afraid I will not make the ride tonight, Princess.” Odd. “My sincerest apologies.” You gave him a long look, not understanding why he was being so secretive. Relief flashed in his eyes when you nodded and mounted your horse. You tried to not let the flash of hurt you felt cross your features, but you definitely threw him a nasty look. 

“Very well. I shall see you on the morrow.” You tapped the flank of your horse with your heel and turned in the direction of the gates. 

Something rolling in your gut told you to turn back. Erryk’s abnormal behavior did not sit right with you, and you knew back in the stables that you should’ve stayed to push him for further details. Irritated with yourself, you turned your horse around and headed back to the Keep. Issaros would be cross with you, you were sure, but you would address him on your next visit. 

As you got back to the main road, a raven cawed as it flew overhead. Stopping your horse, your head turned to follow the direction it flew in. It was far too late in the night for a raven to fly out of Dragonstone, much less in the direction of- 

Your brain went blank for a moment and realization dawned on you. You kicked your horse sharply and he sprinted into a full gallop to race back to the Keep. 

“It wasn’t Erryk, you fool!” You berated yourself, urging your horse to sprint faster. “It wasn’t Erryk!”

If you weren't simping for Ser Erryk before, you are now. I'm starting a support group.

We're setting things up for absolute mayhem.

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @bellameshipper @praline357 @crazymusicgirl104 @visenyaverse @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @ana8swift @ladymoon666 @sunmoon-01  @snh96 @louiselouve @neenieweenie @kemillyfreitas

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[hel-the-growl]

Cultural Annotations on New Gods: Yang Jian -Part 1-

This is the companion piece to my long-ass thread about the same topic on twitter.

Light Chaser really outdid themselves with the visuals and research this time, and with Yang Jian out in NA theaters, it's totally worth seeing on the big screen.

There were so many historical references packed into this movie, I thought I'd do a deep dive into the characters, motifs and lore associated with Investiture of the Gods scene by scene.

Background

Yang Jian is the second instalment of the New Gods series of animated films (after Nezha Reborn), that are loosely based on the 16th-century Chinese novel Investiture of the Gods (IOTG). IOTG shares some canon with other Chinese classics like Journey to the West, Classic of Mountains and Seas, Lotus Lantern etc. so there may be crossovers.

The character Yang Jian, better known as the god Erlang, is a figure widely regarded as heaven's greatest warrior deity. He is recognized for having a third truth-seeing eye, and in IOTG, helped bring about the fall of the Shang Dynasty in 1046 BC.

The movie however, takes place during the Wei, Jin and Northern and Southern dynasties circa 5th century AD, some 1500 years after events of IOTG. We first meet Yang Jian as a rather lethargic but free-spirited individual, 12 years after losing his powers during a great disaster involving the three realms, scraping by as a bounty hunter.

A rough timeline

c. 1075-1066 BC: Yang Jian is born

c. 1060-1050 BC: Yang Jian cleaves Peach Mountain

1046 BC: Battle of Muye (Conclusion of Investiture of the Gods)

c. 9 BC-23 AD: Erlang defeats Sun Wukong (Journey to the West, Chapter 7 - Havoc in Heaven)

c. 405 AD: Disaster of the Three Realms; Yang Chan is trapped under Mount Hua

c. 417 AD: New Gods: Yang Jian

c. 1920s - c. 1930s: Nezha Reborn

Breakdown

Yang Jian’s crew all have backstories. In Journey to the West, Kang Anyu (康安裕) and Yao Gonglin (姚公麟) are two of Erlang’s six brothers of Plum Mountain, both supreme government officials in charge of military affairs. Maybe we’ll get to find out about the other four’s whereabouts in later instalments?

Xiaotian is Erlang’s dog sidekick who helps him subdue evil spirits and never leaves his side. The movie’s version of Xiaotian seems to be inspired by ancient paintings depicting her as a white hound.

The wanted bulletin printer seems to be inspired by a Hu Shi Ren You (虎噬人卣), a tiger-shaped Ancient Chinese wine vessel.

In Chinese mythology, Penglai is a legendary island for immortals. It has been reimagined to be the equivalent of the CBD of the divine realm.

The dice used in the casino are 18-sided Xing Jiu Ling (行酒令) from the Han Dynasty. It has the numbers 1 to 16, along with the characters for "wine" and "arrogance" engraved in gold and silver. The rat is the first animal of the Chinese Zodiac.

Shunfeng’er (顺风耳), who now goes by Old Gao and works at the casino, was usually accompanied by Qianliyan (千里眼). They are two temple guards whose names translate to “all-hearing” and “all-seeing” that could hear and see things from thousands of miles away.

Light Chaser is serious about its monkey business. The way casino monkey grabbed Yang Jian’s tally with his foot, the big ape miming and even in Nezha Reborn where the little monkey imitated Yunxiang.

Fun fact: The monkey is voiced by Yang Tianxiang, the same actor who voiced Li Yunxiang (Nezha) in Nezha Reborn.

Refresher - Primordial Spirit, known in Chinese as yuanshen (元神), is is a concept in Daoism defined to be a level of existence surpassing that of physical existence. In the New Gods universe, they manifest as giant glowing avatars.

New Gods also has a recurring theme of lost Astras - In Nezha Reborn, Wukong’s staff is nowhere to be found and Yunxiang has only recovered Nezha’s Sky Ribbon so far. Among Erlang’s many Astras, three are mentioned in the movie.

Yang Jian’s headdress is designed to resemble his signature trident, the "three-pointed, double-edged lance". Hence when casino monkey asked him where his weapon was, he clinked the headdress.

This weapon was later shown in a flashback:

Another one of his Astras is a golden bow with silver bullets. According to the director, it was melted into his harmonica (although this was probably retconned as in the teaser for the sequel, it was his mother who gave it to him as a child). The harmonica not only has the powers of his bow, but is also the ignition key for his ship.

The third weapon featured is his mountain-cleaving axe (开山斧). It is the axe he used to split Peach Mountain in half to save Yaoji. He is shown wielding the same axe in the opening montage 1500 years earlier and it is currently wedged inside the Lotus Peak of Mount Hua from the events of 12 years ago. Needless to say it is a powerful Astra with earth-shattering capabilities.

The Four Diablo Brothers - Mo Lihong, Mo Liqing, Mo Lihai, and Mo Lishou - were initially antagonists in IOTG, having launched an attack on the Western Foothills. This led to the introduction of Yang Jian, who helped defeat the brothers.

By the conclusion of the novel, they were enshrined as the Four Heavenly Kings - Vaiśravaṇa, king of yakṣas (多闻天王; Duowen Tianwang), Virūḍhaka, king of kumbhāṇḍas (增长天王; Zengzhang Tianwang), Dhṛtarāṣṭra, king of gandharvas (持国天王; Chiguo Tianwang) and Virūpākṣa, king of nāgas (广目天王; Guangmu Tianwang). In the movie, only Mo Liqing was addressed by his title when Shen Gongbao met him inside the lighthouse.

There's a PSA on the noticeboard with a picture of Nezha pissing. It reads "no urinating or defecating here." This might be a piss (pun intended) at the 2019 animation Ne Zha from a rival studio, and its hilarious promo. The shade 💀

Further supporting my theory that White Snake and New Gods are from the same universe, Precious Jade from White Snake is recruiting!!! And medicine boy plugging his illegal business lol.

Jinxia Cave (金霞洞), lit. Gold Sunset Cave is Yuding’s HQ. It is located on Jade Spring Mountain in the Divine realm.

The little disciple playing the flute is a tribute to the 1963 ink animation “The Bamboo Flute” (牧笛) produced by Shanghai Animation Film Studio.

Yuding is one of the many disciples of Yuanshi Tianzun, one of the highest deities of Daoism known as the Primeval Lord of Heaven. Yuding is ranked 10th among the “12 golden disciples”, and among his peers are Jiang Ziya (the main character of IOTG who led the battle against Shang), Taiyi Zhenren (Nezha’s master) and Shen Gongbao etc. They are all practitioners of Chan Daoism, also known as Kunlun Sect, founded by Laozi and Yuanshi Tianzun.

In the tale of the Magic Lotus Lantern, Chenxiang was the son of Yang Chan AKA Goddess San Shengmu AKA the holy mother of Mount Hua AKA Erlang’s sister, and a mortal scholar named Liu Yanchang. This parallels the Yang siblings’ own origin story as the children of a goddess and a mortal.

Chenxiang literally means Agarwood. It is a revered wood valued for its use in incense and traditionally burned during meditation.

The place on Jade Spring Mountain where Yuding sealed the sect brother’s Dharmakaya (the embodiment of the truth itself, a transcendence of the physical and spiritual bodies) is based on the travertine pools in and around Jiuzhaigou, Sichuan. Notably, a scene from Journey to the West, a story associated with Erlang, was once filmed at one of the waterfalls here. I’ve been here and yes, it looks exactly like this irl.

Part 2｜Part 3｜Part 4

#erlang shen #new gods #new gods: yang jian #yang jian #新神榜 #二郎神 #杨戬 #新神榜：杨戬 #xin shen bang #jttw #investiture of the gods #lotus lantern #light chaser #xsb #still laughing at the nezha shade

[robinette-green]

Spooky Stories from the Daycare!

[Part1]. Prev< >Next

Part 5: Climbing Escape

Scrambling to your feet, you make for the cabinets along the wall and scramble up them, jumping from them to the rafters as the blue person sat up.

—————

Wide awake, Moon looked around for the source of the sounds. He knew they weren't alone. That little terror must be on here somewhere.

"Moon?" Sun asked groggily, not fully awake.

"What's going on?"

"Something's in here with us," Moon murmured, getting into a crouch as he scanned the room.

There weren't many hiding spots…

Suddenly, Moon looked up and spotted them up in the rafters.

With a masked face, fox ears, and tail, dressed in rags, the little terror's fur stood on end.

That was odd.

Moving fast, Moon launched himself up, grabbing onto the wooden beam above him, and the terror yowled. As Moon pulled himself up to balance on the wooden beam, the little fox tried to jump to the floor to make a break for the door, but Moon managed to snag their leg at the last second. Hanging upside down now, the fox shrieked, twisting and turning in Moon's grip, trying to kick at Moon's hand.

Sun was on his feet now and managed to grab the howling terror around the middle so Moon could let them go, but claws dug into Sun's arms as the fox fought to get away, Sun dropping them with a yelp of his own.

"Ah! No!" Sun gasped, turning to try and make a grab for the fox as they shot for the door.

Just before the fox person reached the door, Moon dropped in front of them. They tried to skid to a stop, but their momentum carried them forward right into Moon's arms.

Grabbing hold of the fox person, Moon snagged both their hands in one of his and wrapped his other arm around their middle, trapping them.

"Gotcha!!"

The fox person yowled in panic, kicking and squirming as they tried to free their arms from Moon's iron grip.

"N-NO! LET GO OF ME!" They wailed, sounding quite scared for someone who'd managed to scare Sun and Moon out of their casings earlier in the night.

Sun quickly lit a lantern to get a better look at the intruder. Their clothes were ragged and torn in places, there were leaves in their rat nest-looking hair, and they were soaked and muddy.

Did they really live full-time in the cabin? How long had they been out here?

Stepping closer to the struggling form, Sun reached out and carefully took off their mask, revealing their large, scared eyes. The fox ears flicked back, and sharp fangs were bared as the person in Moon's arms growled.

That didn't look like a costume. If it was, it was a really convincing one. Moon was slowly coming to the same conclusion.

Had they just caught a kisune???

———

They'd caught you, taken your mask, and what was worse was that it was becoming undeniable that these were not humans.

What you thought were masks were actually their faces, and these 7-foot-tall monsters were made of metal.

The one with the moon on its face had said that it would be your funeral if they caught you. Well, they'd caught you. Were they going to kill you?

#glitter rock #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf fanfic #sun and moon x reader #fnaf sun and moon #dca fanfic #dca fandom #DCA ss #spooky stories from the daycare

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter Five

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 6 - Ch 7

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

AO3 - I recommend reading it there

Warnings: canon-typical violence (blood, gore, disturbing ways of killing people), angst, grief mention, swearing

Word Count: 2799

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“Viper!”

You shot up, dagger held out, ready to defend yourself. You were met with wide, blue eyes. Once your mind caught up, you sighed and dropped it back into your lap.

“Hurry up,” he breathed out urgently. “Eyck is missing and Hendrick, he’s… well…”

“He’s what, Jaskier?” You rubbed sleep from your eyes. Where the hell were you? Oh, yeah, that’s right. Jaskier slept in your bed last night and you slept sitting on the floor. No wonder your arse hurt like hell.

The bard sighed. “Someone killed him.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. There were no lies to be found in the sympathetic look he held. You pushed yourself up, rushing past him and out of your tent, to see for yourself what had become of your employer.

You burst through the tent flap, eyes wide and wild. Geralt was already there, kneeling by the Temerian man who lay dead in his cot, neck sliced open. The body was hours old - blood no longer poured from his neck, already cooled into a thick, dark ooze. The Wolf’s eyes found yours. They held just as much sympathy as Jaskier’s.

“Oh, fuck.” Yarpen came up by your side, keeping his distance from the pool of blood. It soaked through the soles of your boots. You didn’t care.

“Was bound to happen eventually.” You didn’t have to turn to know it was a Reaver talking. What was their ringleader’s name? Broheni? Bolbolm? Something Redanian, you knew that much. He stood just at the tent opening, peering inside with a forced grimace. His dark gaze turned from the corpse to you. “A Nilfgaardian guiding a Temerian?” He scoffed. “Like a rat fucking a hag.”

You ignored just how Yarpen stepped away from you, as though you were going to slit his throat open next.

-

“Our people used to mine these mountains. We know a shortcut that will take half a day off our journey.” The Reavers were far ahead by now. The rest left behind slowed down to listen to Yarpen. “Let the Reavers take the long way around. We’ll nab the treasure before they even set foot in the cave. We’ll watch each other’s backs until we reach the next peak, then every man for himself.”

Two bodies were found that morning. Yennefer’s escort, Sir Eyck of Denesle, and your employer’s, Hendrick of Temeria. Nobody else suspected Yennefer of killing Eyck. You, on the other hand…

All morning, you had trudged along far behind everyone else. Still, they glanced and peered over their shoulders to make sure you weren’t about to make a move against them. The only few who trusted you - Borch and his guards, Jaskier, and Geralt - could not sway the minds of the Reavers and Dwarves. Yennefer, you suspected, did not trust you for your title as a Nilfgaardian alone.

“What say ye?”

“Let’s go!” Borch answered.

“Only thing: that murderer can’t come,” Yarpen spat, glaring at you as he spoke to Geralt.

The White Wolf’s lips curled into an offended snarl, brow furrowed and eyes burning with a fire reserved only for monsters. But before he could say anything, your hand was on his shoulder, turning him away from the Dwarf to face you. The flaming eyes of the Witcher met with your own, gleaming with the warmth and comfort of an amber mead after a long day.

“I’ll meet you at the top.”

You both just stared at each other, as if speaking with your eyes. You were deadlocked once again, only this time it was not with blades.

If Geralt tried to insist you come along, he could be left behind, as well. It was pertinent to reach the top before the Reavers, who would not think twice about slaying the dragon. But doing nothing left you at a disadvantage. You would be forced to follow the Reavers.

The scowl faded from his lips.

“Fine.” The word was grit out between clenched teeth. Even as the group began moving, he lingered for a moment longer, searching your eyes to make sure this was alright. They gave nothing away.

The Dwarves led the way down a side route, Borch and his guards following close behind. You stood at the crossroads. Your path was to follow the Reavers, the group of arsehole dragon-killers who framed you for murder; there was nothing you could now do to prevent it. If you were lucky, you would be able to sneak ahead while they slept.

Jaskier stopped to stand by your side, watching as Geralt chased after Yennefer to bring her along on the shortcut. He sighed.

“Guess I’ll see you at the top, then? You don’t really have to come now that… Well…”

You scoffed softly. “I wouldn’t wish to pass up the opportunity of seeing a dragon.” You turned to look at him, nodding down the side path. “You best catch up before they leave you behind.”

He glanced over the hill the Reavers crested moments ago. “So should you.”

You lifted your hood. The dark cloth ghosted your face with shadows, hiding your eyes and making you appear more intimidating. The easy, almost playful, grin on your lips ruined the illusion. “Stay safe, Jaskier. I would hate to hear what treachery you encounter without me.”

He chuckled, calling after you as you began the trek down the main road. “I won’t leave anything out!”

“I hold you to that!”

And in moments, you disappeared over the hill, and Geralt returned with the Witch in tow.

-

The dragon was dead when you arrived. Long, slender neck and powerful body curled around her still unborn child. It made your soul ache. To see a creature so magical, so formidable, being protective over a life so small…

When you neared, Téa and Véa appeared from the shadows, weapons armed and prepared to cut you down. You could not even spare them a glance, far too entranced in the ‘monster’ behind them. You mindlessly removed your blades and tossed them to their feet as you whispered a promise not to touch the egg or they could kill you where you stood.

They watched, prepared to do just that, as you carefully rounded the egg and sat by her head. Her scales tingled with magic as you brushed her snout, but she was cold; she had been for a while now. The stench of rot tainted the air around her. You wished you did not know the smell as well as you did.

Your chest was tight with emotion. Not mourning, but a semblance of something like it. She did not just remind you of home, of Stuldweck protecting and caring for you as she did now for her egg, even in death. She reminded you of a home you once had. Of your own mother, and father, and that big old farm horse. Of the frogs, and the well, and stitching by the fire. Of that grand oak on the hill.

Through the haze of a long-lost life, you heard boots scuffing against loose dirt and hard stone. Rushing in, carrying all manner of mismatched weapons, were Reavers. They charged head first into battle. Geralt, the Zerrikanians, and the Witch, all defending the egg.

You could mourn later.

You carefully sidestepped the egg, keeping your eyes up on the fight as your hands reached down and grabbed your abandoned sheaths. Holding the hilts, you flicked your wrists, and the leather casings flew away, revealing curved blades laced with Basilisk venom.

Reavers charged for you, confident they could kill a Witcher trained for killing humans. They were wrong. You cut them down, one after the next. You almost didn’t think about it anymore. Your mind was solely focused on defending the egg and the dragon laying with it; you could not feel the tension against your arms as you plunged your weapons through flesh and muscle, nor their own weapons landing hits on you.

You were snapped back into the fight when a long blade from behind sliced through your armor and traced almost directly over an old scar. You had to grit your teeth to hold back the scream. You turned and caught the man in the temple. Your hilt touched his skull. Someone bodied you, forcing you to abandon the silver dagger in his head.

You stood from the blow, raising your dagger defensively. There, not even ten feet away, was the Reaver that taunted you. His deep, sunken eyes stared at you from within yellowed skin. Crooked teeth malformed into a crooked grin. In his hand was a heavy, two-handed war hammer.

He charged forward, closing the distance, and driving the spike of the hammer in an upward swing. You dodged back sharply. He struck again and again and again. A seemingly endless barrage of attacks.

He got in close, swinging for your chest. You couldn’t block it. The war hammer would shatter your wrists before ever slowing down. All you could do was dodge. He was counting on this.

He swung. The adrenaline in your veins clogged your judgement; you dodged the wrong way. The butt-end of the hammer slammed against your sternum, sending you careening toward the hard floor. You landed hard on your arm. Your ribs bent, a sharp prick shooting through your side. Lightning-hot fire shot up the cut in your back.

“It would be easier to lay down and die, wouldn’t it, Rat?”

You couldn’t stop. You only had a second to look up. His teeth grit together, flames alight in his dark irises. The war hammer was coming down on you, sharp end poised to puncture. You bit back a groan as you rolled out of the way, just in time for the spike to impale the floor instead.

“But you have to get up. You have to fight.”

He ripped the hammer out of the stone. You kicked his knee, forcing him to kneel as he grunted in pain. One handed, the other clutching his knee, he swung again.

“C’mon, Rat. Fight.”

A scream tore from your throat as you reached up to meet his hand with your dagger. It was your bad arm. White, searing hot shocks of pain ran all the way down your shoulder to your wrist. You gripped your dagger with enough force to break the skin of your knuckles as the blade connected with his wrist and sliced through it.

The hammer, still gripped in a disembodied fist, flew past your head and skidded across the cavern. He screamed. You took in a breath, preparing yourself, holding it in your chest. You forced yourself up and jabbed the steel into the hollow of his throat.

His whole body froze. Wide eyes reflected your disheveled state back at you. His tongue moved inside his gaped mouth, forming words without the oxygen to speak them. Blood soon flooded it, pouring from the corners of his down-turned lips and into your lap.

The blade crunched and squished as you pulled it from the hollow. His expression was frozen. His body collapsed toward you, unable to stay upright any longer, before you shoved it to the side.

Waves of agony washed over you as the adrenaline fully left your system. Your hands trembled as you forced yourself to your feet. Nausea settled in your gut as the tight pain in your chest reached the forefront of your mind.

You were covered in blood. Most of it was his, you knew that much. You could taste the distinct, mutated flavor of copper on your tongue. Every breath was agony. But you could breathe, and that was worth something.

You scanned the room. The floor was littered with corpses. One was burnt; the closest to the egg. The egg…

You whipped around, much too quickly. Blood rushed to your head, your vision spinning with your mind. Rough, but surprisingly gentle, hands grabbed you. Their face came into focus before you could slash at them.

“Calm down,” Borch advised. The slight scratchiness of his voice, undertoned with knowledge and age, clicked immediately. He held you upright by your shoulders, waiting patiently as you shut your eyes and let the world catch up to you. “You have fought valiantly.”

You looked at him again. His face no longer blurred or warped. He smiled.

“Thank you for protecting her.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but could find no words. He seemed to understand, though, as he let you go. He turned back to the green dragon. His shoulders hunched, as if a heavy weight rested on his shoulders. You did not stay to watch.

Jaskier was the first one to greet you outside.

“Well, you look like shit.” You forced your eyes to focus on him. He was dirty and unkempt, watching his every step as to not walk on any of the many bodies strewn about. He was a welcome sight. His grin at his little joke fell when you did not react. “What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands floundered around, hovering over your arms and shoulders as he tried to figure out whose blood was where.

“I’ll tell you later.” Your voice was so quiet. You blamed it on exhaustion, but the ache in your chest was not purely from the war hammer.

His brows knit together in concern, but he nodded nonetheless. He made a motion, gesturing as he tried to find the words. “Uh, uhm, potion- Swallow. Do you have any…?”

You nodded. You lifted your arm, drawing his attention to the line of bottles along your belt. Your sheaths and silver blade were still discarded inside. You loathed the thought of having to go back for them, but you would not be leaving without them.

You tried to reach for one of the vials, but he stopped you when you winced. “Here, let me.” He didn’t touch you - as much as he could avoid it, anyway. Nimble fingers slipped it out of its holder, uncorked it, and held it out to you. You tossed back the strange liquid without hesitation.

-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!”

The words echoed through the mountain valleys. Jaskier’s fingers rubbed together, itching for anything to fiddle with as the insults sank into his chest. His throat felt tight. His eyes burned. Someone he had considered a friend - someone he could trust, depend on - only thought of him as a burden, wreaking havoc on his life.

“You fucking bastard.” Geralt’s piercing gaze shifted from glaring at Jaskier to where you sat up on the hill. You grunted as you forced yourself to your feet. The potion was working - it didn’t hurt as much to breathe, and you could use your arm again, but you hadn’t had time to clean and bandage the cut along your back. For now, the blood was slowed down enough you weren’t immediately concerned about it. Loose pebbles and rocks shifted under your boots as you shuffled down them until you stood protectively in front of the bard. “No one asked you to claim the Law of Surprise, or make that wish with the djinn. You only have yourself to blame.”

The Wolf’s lips curled into a sneer. “If he hadn’t dragged me-”

You scoffed bitterly, stumbling the rest of the way down the hill to stand directly in front of Geralt. “No one forced you to go! Friend or not, you could have declined, you pompous git! You did this to yourself! No one else!” You stepped back. Despite your injuries, you stood with your shoulders squared, ready to fight. Your eyes burned into his own, daring him to test the waters. You would fight at a disadvantage to protect Jaskier, who he saved over and again just to throw away.

But Geralt’s shoulders fell. He averted his eyes, staring pointedly at the distant horizon. He would not be fighting you.

“Congratulations. Your blessing has been granted.” You stepped back, watching the Witcher to see if he would do anything. Instead of gearing up for an attack or trying to argue again, he just huffed and turned to gaze out at the view. The tension in your muscles faded, eyes losing the burning anger.

He was your last opportunity for a family. For brotherhood.

You turned your back to him and clambered back up the hill. Jaskier was speechless for once. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Geralt. You touched his shoulder, and blue eyes, wide and glossy, tore through you like a knife. You offered him a thin-lipped grin.

“C’mon, Jaskier.” You nudged him gently away from his old traveling companion. He glanced back once, before swallowing down his hurt and helping you climb. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be halfway down the mountain by nightfall.”

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@sleepyqueerenergy

@adozenforks

@plaguedoctorsnake

@solomonssimp

#fanfic #fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #jaskier x reader #jaskier #jaskier the bard #witcher jaskier #the witcher jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt & reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #gn reader #x gn reader #cross posted on ao3

[thewonandonly]

NINE.FIVE — JULY 30, 2022, 7:30PM

seonghwa didn't know why he agreed to go along, maybe it was the promise of his regular pack of cigarettes, but wooyoung, yeosang, and hongjoong were all goofing off, saying it's because he was curious about how the girl lived. the girl, who he honestly couldn't remember the name of.

the quartet parked inside the parking garage of her building, just able to squeeze past the barrier. and wooyoung immediately pulled his phone off his holder on his bike, "she's on the third floor." he waved to his friends, immediately running out the parking garage and around to the main doors.

hongjoong sighed, walking along side his friend, cupping his hands around his mouth, "wooyoung! take your helmet off."

yeosang followed behind wooyoung before a crash was heard.

seonghwa sighed, rubbing his temples, "this was not worth it."

yeosang let out a dramatic cry, as wooyoung rubbed the helmet where he ran into the door, "wooyoung! speak to me!"

wooyoung sighed, shaking his head almost cartoonishly, "i'm okay. it's a good thing i'm still wearing my helmet." he wiped a faux bead of sweat from the helmet, shooting finger guns to yeosang.

seonghwa ran his hand over his face, groaning, "this really, really was not worth it." his lazily held his helmet in his other hand, holding it by the bottom piece.

"come on, hwa, cheer up." wooyoung chuckled, buzzing the intercom, "you're such a debby-downer."

seonghwa took a third sigh, "what even is that?"

the intercom echoed, "hello?" a voice full of static hesitated.

"y/n! it's us!" wooyoung spoke cheerfully.

yeosang chuckled, "buzz us in!"

"oh! alright." y/n held the button, a loud buzz emitting from the intercom, and the four entered the building.

compared to the apartment lobby, the four stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed down in all black, two with their helmets still on their head, and the other two holding their helmets under their arm. the jackets rubbing against itself, echoing in the lobby.

wooyoung called the elevator, tapping his foot, "we're already late! i hope they haven't started anything fun."

seonghwa looked at the counter, watching the elevator decrease each floor, blinking slowly just as the elevator opened.

the four stepped inside, and seonghwa immediately occupied the corner of the elevator, his back against the wall.

"nice building," hongjoong complimented, his eyes scanning the elevator, "nice interior."

seonghwa didn't notice that the floor was approaching until he heard a ding and the doors sliding open. wooyoung immediately wandered out staring at his phone as he walked down the hallway, looking up every second to look at the door numbers.

“31, 32... where the hell is 37?” wooyoung cursed.

hongjoong cleared his throat, wandering over to a door, the number decorating the door with Pokémon stickers and some rat seonghwa didn’t recognize. 

yeosang cheered, ringing the bell, “y/n! we’re here.” he began to annoyingly knock on the door.

the girl opened the door, a smile crossing her lips, “hi, guys! come in, everyone is watching mingi play parappa.” she chuckled, before quickly turning around to continue watching him play.

“damn it!” mingi cursed, jamming the buttons as the icon passed through, “i swear this stupid flea market stage is annoying.”

the others laughed, before a taller one chuckled, “mingi, you suck. you’re missing all the buttons.”

mingi turned to look at him, a look of both shock and annoyance covering his face, “well, i’m sorry, i’m not a professional gamer like you, yunho. why don’t you take over?”

the one called yunho grabbed the mobile device, starting the stage again, “not a problem. i’ll kill your record.”

hongjoong sat on the seat at the island of the kitchen, seonghwa gently placing his helmet beside him and watched.

wooyoung and yeosang immediately sat on the couch, watching the game.

y/n wandered into the kitchen, “seonghwa, would you like something to drink?”

seonghwa moved into the corner, “no, i’m fine.”

y/n motioned to hongjoong with a bottle of strawberry soda, who only shook his head sweetly.

seonghwa sighed, tapping his foot impatiently. it’s only been 1 minute since he’s been in the apartment, and he was already counting down the seconds before he could leave. 

wooyoung cleared his throat, “well, it’s rude to come empty handed, so, this is for our host, y/n.” he opened his backpack and pulled out two full bottles of soju, yogurt soju, to be specific. wooyoung just so happened to stop at the convenience store seonghwa last saw y/n, and took a grueling 10 minutes to decide on what to bring as a gift; a loaf of bread, or the yogurt soju.

y/n accepted the drink, “wow, thank you, guys!” she smiled, “but, in all honesty, i don’t drink very much. only on special occasions.” 

yeosang leaned over the top of the couch, smiling, “well, this is a special occasion!” he chuckled, “the commencing of friends!”

y/n smiled, “well, i guess that is a special occasion.” she opened the bottle, “who’d like some?”

the other’s stood up with haste, before y/n tried to slow them, pulling out only three shot glasses, decorated with those pokemon she “loved” so much.

seonghwa couldn’t help the smile that decorated his face as the liquor coursed through his veins, his eyes glassy before he wandered off to where he assumed a guest room was and collapsed on the bed.

he’d worry about it later.

PARK SEONGHWA is a stone-cold, cantankerous punk-rock player. He hates everything about the world, and if he had just one chance, he'd do anything to keep the best thing about the world in his arms; you, the complete opposite of everything he's ever built up to hate.

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TAGLIST: @punks-rad @atinytinaa @prince-mingki @dear-dreamie​

copyright © 2022 thewonandonly. all rights reserved.

#BAHAHAH sorry it took me so long #seraphim #park seonghwa #seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa smut #seonghwa reactions #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa blurb #seonghwa blurbs #seonghwa timestamp #seonghwa sns au #seonghwa social media au #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez blurb #ateez blurbs #ateez timestamp #ateez sns au #ateez social media au #social media au #sns au #kpop social media au #bad boy!au

[justkending]

Finding Memories. Chapter 5.

Series Summary: Waking up with little to no memory of her past, and being saved by a group of individuals who call themselves heroes, sends a long time captive for a whirlwind trying to find some form of grounding in this world she quickly learns runs on chaos. But she’s not the only one trying to figure out her forgotten backstory. Bucky Barnes, along with the other Avengers, can’t help but sense that there is a lot more to the whole situation than a diagnosis of amnesia. Her background slowly starts to come forward in pieces of her past and hidden information discovered. Who is she? And why was she in the room they were meant to destroy?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Word Count: 3700+

TW: Torture, cussing, and blood. 

A/N: I will have chapter 6 ready by the time it is ready to be posted, and I’m hoping to get a start on chapter 7 soon. So things are working in my favor this time around.

Chapter 5: (Last edited; 1/1/23)

"Y/N!" he shouted, this time knowing for a fact she was in trouble.

It would take more than a common lock to keep the soldier out. With a quick and calculated kick to the door, the crack of the lock busted against the wood and splintered the threshold.

The scene in front of him instantly switched him into fight mode. _____________

After a struggle that Y/N didn't even have time to apprehend, she was put into a headlock by one woman who must have already been in the room before her. And the woman that had walked past Bucky a minute before was trying to hold her legs down as she fished for something in her pocket. Upon hearing the crash of the door caving in, the one attempting to wrangle Y/N's legs turned at the intrusion and a fiendish smile twisted on her face.

"Let her go," Bucky warned in a deep and intense tone, taking a step in.

"She's not yours to have," the woman responded naturally, instantly throwing a punch that Bucky deflected.

She wasn't an easy fight. The normal techniques he would use were too simple for her. Clearly, she was trained and ready to take on an opponent upon coming here.

Bucky was punching and ducking as his hand went into the wall instead of her gut at one point.

The whole time, Y/N was trying to escape the stronghold the other woman held on her.

"Stop fighting you little rat!" the woman groaned as Y/N never relented in squirming in her embrace.

Then as if a muscle memory fled back, Y/N's foot came down hard on the woman's shoe causing her to ease her grip on her. Taking the split second of a surprise to her advantage, she twisted the arm from around her neck into an unnatural bend and stared into the woman's eyes as she knew she had the upper hand.

The women looked back in shock. Out of all the people this enemy expected to have to put up a fight against, it wasn't the meek woman they had come for.

In front of the assailant stood an angry and hurt person that shared a full 180 of the girl they had brought to the facility a week ago.

But instead of continuing her fight, it was like the realization of her actions clicked. As soon as that awareness locked in, she blacked out. The next thing she knew, the woman was thrown into the wall so hard, the ceramic around her outlined her figure as it caved in.

Y/N was appalled at the scene as she couldn't imagine herself doing that. She didn't know how to fight... Or at least she didn't remember being one to hold her own.

Bucky had incapacitated the other girl at the same time Y/N had with her own opponent, and when he turned to hear the loud crash that showed the woman unconscious and embedded in the wall, his eyes grew.

He hadn't known what had happened since his back was to her at the time, but his first thought didn't go toward Y/N being the person in charge of the scene.

She was in just as much shock as him; it looked like she was staring at the incident frightened and taken aback just as much as him.

Instantly jumping into action to cover the scene, he grabbed Y/N's arms gently, but frantically, and moved her to the opposite wall away from it all. She was in shock from it all while watching as he went through their pockets and bags for any evidence. 

While he did that, he dialed Steve's number and gave him a quick rundown of what had happened. When he had taken all the precautions to keep them there until a squad could come to pick them up, he turned back to Y/N while on the phone.

"I got to get her out of here," he said softly toward Steve, not looking away from where she was covering her mouth with her hands, shaking, and tears on the brink of overflowing in her eyes.

Steve confirmed saying there would be a team there in three minutes tops.

Bucky carefully moved her out of the room and found a few security guards to watch the space until someone from the team came. They recognized him and stayed close calling the rest of security to alert the problem.

The back alley behind the museum was the only place of seclusion Bucky could calm her down. He would have done it inside, but there were crowds of people already moving toward the scene and it was turning more chaotic by the second.

"Hey, are you ok? Did they hurt you?"

He began assessing her for any injuries and noticed a cut on her head and bruising on her neck from the hold the woman had on her. The cut wasn't bleeding horribly since she had already begun healing, but he could tell it was a nasty hit.

She was still shaking, her eyes stayed following his own, but nothing besides panic and fear showed in them. She had been taking shallow breaths and he could tell her breathing was becoming harder and harder to control.

"Y/N, I need you to focus on your breathing, ok? Close your eyes and take a deep breath," he instructed. He had just noticed, his hands had been on her shoulders the whole time keeping her anchored and she hadn't pulled away yet.

She took a second, but nodded in acknowledgment and took a shaky breath in. It came out even more unsteady.

"You're ok now. We're going to get you back home as soon as we can get you grounded a little better," he explained. "Deep breath in."

He coached her through a couple more deep breaths, and though she hadn't improved her nerves much, it was at least focusing her attention on something else.

Bucky heard the sirens and the honking as cars maneuvered to the museum. The crew was there and could handle it from here. They needed to find some form of cover that wasn't out in the open. 

"Listen, we need to get to the car so we're out of sight. Can you walk ok?"

She hesitated but nodded softly.

"Ok, follow me," he motioned for her to trail behind as she usually did, but he was shocked when she grabbed onto his hand tightly and stayed closer than she had before.

He knew it was because he had just proven once again, that he would protect her no matter what and she could rely on him to be that strong pillar when she needed it the most.

He was happy that that kind of bond had formed now but frustrated that it was under these circumstances.

He squeezed her hand in reassurance and quickly guided them back to the parking garage where the car was. He helped her into her seat, giving her a hand as she got situated, then quickly ran around the front to get in the driver's seat and start the car.

The first 5 minutes of the trip were silent besides Y/N focusing on her breathing and keeping her head down as Bucky spoke soft words of peace and confirmation they were safe now.

By the time they parked and were back at the compound, she had gone radio silent and had a blank look written over her features.

Bucky once again came around the car, opened the door for her, and lent his hand as an anchor if she wanted to take it.

But even more to his surprise, she took his hand and used it to pull her body into his. His heart sank as he felt the desperation in her grasp.

She was going to crumble at the relapse of some of the worst experiences she had and he felt as though it was his fault. He put her in that situation. He was the reason she was attainable for those that wanted to harm her.

And yet it was him that she was molding herself to and holding onto for dear life.

He was shocked at first. Her arms went around his torso and her head laid heavily on his chest as muffled sounds of sobs came from her.

His first instinct was to throw his arms up in a way to show he wasn't fighting her action but slowly brought his hands down to her shoulders before he realized she truly just needed an embrace. A kind gesture for once.

So he gave it, slowly and carefully he brought his arms around her back and held her as she fell apart. His embrace only became tighter when his feelings of guilt and anger from the whole thing reminded him why she was using him as shelter.

This was a cruel cruel world and though there will always be bad in it, it was an overwhelming feeling to know that good could come out on top if given the opportunity. ____________________ Once she had relieved some of her adrenaline that had built up, Bucky walked her to her room and started to get her situated for the night.

She went into the bathroom, cleaned up the dried blood on the now-healed wound on her forehead, and put her hair up and out of her face.

Bucky offered to help and grabbed a pair of pajamas from her dresser and laid it out for her while he waited for her to come back out of the bathroom. But she was taking the time to have a space to herself and collect herself before coming back out.

While Bucky waited, he heard a soft knock on the door before it peaked open.

A sliver of Wanda's face showed before she realized Y/N was not in the vicinity and Bucky was waiting in a chair by her bed.

"Hey," she quietly opened the door more.

Bucky could tell she was looking for Y/N and he eased her thoughts.

"She's ok for now. She's cleaning up in the bathroom and I'm pretty sure she's going to call it an early night," Bucky summarized, nodding to the double doors that led to where she was.

"Makes sense," Wanda nodded, placing her hands in her back pockets as she walked in analyzing the energy. "It would also make sense for you to call it an early night too. She wasn't the only one ambushed."

The look she had sent him was one waiting to see how he took her comment. Would he brush it off, or agree? Knowing him, it would be the first.

"I will once I brief Steve on everything," Bucky smiled tiredly at his friend who always looked out for others. "Speaking of, is he back yet?"

"Yeah actually. I was coming to relieve you of your duties and send you to bed," she answered, sitting on the side of the bed across from him.

"But if Steve's here-"

"I know. Call me crazy, but I was hoping you would call it an early night too and actually give yourself some time to process the night instead of staying up and going over the whole thing down in the lab," she grinned cheekily.

"If I'm going to be going over it in my mind over and over tonight, might as well relay the information in a useful place," he countered, with his own grin.

"Eh, wishful thinking," she shrugged again. "But whichever way you decide, know that I have it handled here. I'll get her situated and make sure she's comfortable before going to bed."

"Are you sure cause I can-"

"We all know what you can do. How about you take care of yourself instead? Let the people who didn't relive their trauma tonight help those that did."

Her single eyebrow raise was one that reflected another redhead he knew. They had been rubbing off on each other for sure.

"I appreciate it, Wanda," Bucky stood up slowly, looking one more time at the doors. "But please, don't hesitate to call if something else happens."

"I'll hesitate, but I'll make sure you know if anything noteworthy happens," she nodded, standing with him. "Now go down to the lab so you can get some shut-eye at a reasonable hour," she pushed him toward the door. "As far as you're concerned, everything is going just fine on this side of the building."

Before he could counter with anything, he was out the door and Wanda was sending him a reassuring smile as she shut the barrier between them.

He let out a deep and long breath, running a hand through his hair as he took a second to reset.

As soon as he remembered what kind of information would be waiting for him, his calm, comforting, and understanding side took a step back. The anger and determination that the soldier in him held was on full display now.

_____________________________

"You said this is what Bucky found in the assailant's pocket?" Banner asked.

"That's what he said," Steve answered.

"The cover to the syringe wasn't off? Right?" he asked again.

"Not from my understanding. Bucky said from his perspective, it never left her pocket. She was trying to pull it out, but he came in before she had the chance," Steve noted.

"If you're wondering if any of it was injected into someone or something, it wasn't. At least not that I saw," Bucky spoke up as he walked into the room, overhearing the conversation on his way in.

The three in front of him turned.

Bruce with his glasses in one hand and the syringe they were talking about on the table in front of them. Steve had his arms leaning on the table reading the case file that had been written up from the scene. And Tony was on the other side of the table, sitting on the top with one hand propped under his chin in a thinking position.

"Do you think the intentions were to inject her or you?" Bruce asked.

"They locked me out. Their plan didn't bank on me being in that room with them," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and standing in the space diagonal to Steve. "It had to have been for Y/N."

"I figured, but thought I'd ask anyway," Bruces sighed, grabbing the syringe and surveying it.

"Have you figured out what's in it?" Bucky asked.

It didn't take longer than a minute of Bucky being there before Tony broke his silence from the corner.

"It was a mixture of some of the most intense date-rape drugs on the black market put into one vial," Tony answered, never looking up. "And then some," he shrugged sarcastically.

"He's right," Bruce shook his head in disappointment at the truth. "It was laced with ketamine, GHB or gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, and Rohypnol from what we could decipher. Whoever was trying to get a hold of her wanted her wiped unconscious. And I believe truthfully if she was some form of normal that we thought she was before, she wouldn't have survived a quarter of the dosage they were going to give her..."

There was a pause as that statement settled in the room.

"What do you mean 'some form of normal'?" Bucky pressed on.

"If her capabilities were healing and nothing else, even that enhancement could only do so much with that concoction. That dosage was enough to put a Rhino down," Tony answered.

Bucky processed the information after everyone else had a head start.

"How's she doing?" Steve redirected the morbid conversation.

Bucky answered, sharing that she was with Wanda and shaken but resting, but his attention was only on it for a second before he asked what he was sure was already going through everyone's head.

"So you think her enhancements are something a lot more... Intense?" Bucky put it out there.

"If you want to put it lightly, they were trying to sedate the threat before it could do anything," Tony replied.

"It has a name. Don't forget that,"  Bucky stared with a death glare. "Y/N also has yet to show anything outside of her ability to heal."

"Maybe for now, but with the evidence that's piling up, there has to be another power we have yet to come in contact with..." Steve had to agree. "You mentioned something about her getting away from the woman holding her while you wrestled with the other hit woman. Did you see anything?"

Bucky thought back and wasn't sure how to word it.

"You saw the damage right?" Bucky asked and Steve nodded. The other men in the room watched as the two went back and forth. "I don't think that was the kidnapper's doing. Y/N was free from her grasp when I turned around right after I heard the crash of the ceramic breaking under the woman's weight."

"You think she did it?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "You think she had enough strength to push a woman twice her size into a concrete wall and leave a hole as proof?"

"Deep down it's almost impossible for me to believe that she's capable of something so violent, but I didn't do it and I'm sure the woman wouldn't have wanted to knock herself out as a defensive tactic," Bucky sighed, running a hand down his beard. "But I didn't see it happen, so I can't confirm anything. I was prioritized with her friend who was trying to stab me."

"Well, what's Y/N's testimony?" Tony jumped off that table and walked closer to the group.

"I didn't ask," Bucky answered, annoyed. "She hasn't said a word since we got back. She's been in shock since getting here and I'm not trying to have her recap everything when she's barely able to handle the aftermath."

"We probably won't get a recap from her anytime soon, Stark," Steve stepped in. "Who we can ask are the individuals in charge of the assault themselves."

"Are they in holding?" Bucky was quick to follow the new subject.

"They're seeking medical attention. The one you fought against had a few lacerations and a mild concussion," Steve updated. "The one that had a hold of Y/N, well..."

"She's still alive, right?" Bucky was now concerned.

Knowing that you could be the reason for someone's fall when your intentions were never that, could send a person on edge down a long spiral.

"She's alive, but her concussion was a lot worse. She's been in a medically induced coma since we brought her in."

Bucky nodded, looking at the ground as he processed, but they could tell the news bothered him still.

"She'll be ok. But we are worried we may not be able to get any information out of her from the attack," Bruce noted.

"Not that we were sure we'd get information either way, but with head trauma and possible memory loss, we for sure won't get much out of her," Tony sighed.

"We'll get it figured out," Steve interrupted, seeing the anger on his friend's face and the annoyance on Tony's. "It's our job to. And we're going to handle it like professionals or it's not going to get done in an efficient and thought-out way."

He was playing the peacekeeper as this type of case was sensitive to both the opposing sides.

Tony didn't do well with befriending people who could be potential threats. And Bucky didn't do well with Tony being insensitive to this type of case. He would know as he was seen as the potential threat at the beginning too.

"The good news is that the clues and hints are coming up constantly," Bruce spoke up, trying to cut some of the tension. "Maybe not in ways we hoped," he looked down momentarily at the syringe full of deadly chemicals. "But it's progressing in lots of ways. We have more evidence to work with and more people to lock up for their crimes."

"Peachy," Tony rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, getting his last word in.

Once out of the room, Bucky closed his eyes and relaxed his flared nose from the number of deep breaths he just took.

"I'm barely holding back, Steve," Bucky mumbled.

"Ignore him. He's stressed in different and yet somehow the same ways you are," Steve added. "You both just process the information entirely differently, and I'm now noting that I still can never leave you two in a room alone," Steve groaned, shaking his head as his hands rested on his hips.

"You're just now noting that?" Bucky deadpanned.

"Besides that," Steve continued on. "What should we do next?"

"I think our next step is questioning our new inmates. Any information we can get out of them is helpful," Bruce answered.

"I'll question them-" Bucky began but was cut off by Steve shaking his head.

"Yeah, no. You're a little too close to the case for that."

"What do you mean by that?"

Steve sighed and felt that Bucky was oblivious to his growing connection to this case, but at the same time, he wasn't that dense. It was because he was close to the investigation that he wanted to be the one in the interrogation room.

"Let me handle it and I'll relay anything I find out to you," Steve replied simply. "You need to get some rest and call it a night."

"I'm fine," Bucky rolled his eyes at the second person who had told him that.

"Fine my ass," Steve countered, getting a smile from Bruce as he tilted his head down trying to hide it. "Go get some sleep. We can argue about this tomorrow."

Bucky would have put up a fight, but he realized that going to bed and replaying the ambush in his head would bring new views on things. So though Steve was sending him away for rest, and he knew he wasn't going to convince him otherwise, he obliged but planned on working anyway.

He put his hands up in defeat and said his goodnights before heading off to his room.

Bruce and Steve watched him leave and go up the stairs to the main level.

"You know he's not going to sleep right?" Bruce said a few seconds after he was out of sight.

"Yeah, I know," Steve sighed. "At least he'll be in bed."

"You sound like a worried parent."

"Sometimes it feels like that..."

If you would like to be tagged in this series, please send an ask here. Thank you:)

Finding Memories Taglist: (some would not let me tag. so if you see your name but didn’t get the notification, double check if your blog allows tags:)

@tinkerbelle67 @a-beaverhausen @caruhleener @fanfictionjunkie1112 @sjsmith56 @nancymcl @kaygilles

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes  @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes​

#bucky barnes series #finding memories #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes x reader insert #bucky barnes #justkending #marvel series #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes x enhanced reader #mcu #mcu series #marvel #bucky barnes x y/n

[madnessreruns]

May I please ask for some poly!Corpsecrow and poly!Ratter/TNBA Mad Hatter x male reader (as a throuple) headcanons?

Corpsecrow x Male! Reader x Ratter

Note: YES FIRST RATTER REQUEST WOOOHOOO MY BABY . Nothings really gendered, so it can be read anyway, but it was intended as male for anon.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Okay stating off ratter is about up to your chest and Corpsecrow is about a foot taller then you, so. Uh. Good luck.

Except lots of cuddles, because of all the height differences, it’s like you all fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. Jervis also just loves cuddling. He just loves it. He’s so tiny that the feeling of you all squishing him in little confines spaces. Just being engulfed by his beloved boyfriends, he giggles a lot during it.

Expect lots of late night talks. Jervis loves to just chat away and Jonny can’t ever fucking sleep. So in return you can’t either. They can’t sleep so it’s your problem as well. It will either get really existential, or just be the dumbest conversation you have ever heard.

They give lots of kisses, and expect you to return them. If you don’t they are very mad. It’s hard to take Jervis seriously when he’s so adorable. It is very easily to take Jon serious though, mans doesn’t blink sometimes and it’s scary as shit.

You and ratter have to wrangle Jon back to bed cause as stated earlier, he has troubles sleeping. There’s several ways to lure him to bed, but the best one is just being a whiny little shit until he gets annoyed and comes to bed so you’ll stop nagging him.

They are on the opposite spectrums of worry. Jon understands that you are an adult who can fend for yourself, and doesn’t have to be babied. Jervis on the other hand, he is absolutely convinced the world is out to get you and every person wants a to harm you. He will baby you, he doesn’t mean for it to be as condescending as it is, he just wants you to be safe.

They are both very handsy in different ways. Jon just likes to have his hand on you when you all are alone, while Jervis is hands on 24/7, and it’s very easy cause people can barely spot poor baby in the first place, so they barely notice as he runs his hands over your body.

They will both go to hell for you, Jervis in a feral rat turned human way, and Jon in a you fucked with a wrong person and he is now stalking you way.

They both are also very insecure about their appearance.

Jon tries to ignore it, and plays his form into his fear factor, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Sometimes he’ll think about how his abnormal body looks in comparison to your and ratters. About how he’s some type of living creature.

Ratter on the other hand really just doesn’t like how small he is. Mans is at some people’s knees. Along with that he’s a tiny old man, he nitpicks at his entire body. His nose is to big and his teeth to yellow, he’s to fat and stubby. The constant rejection he’s faced all of his life has definitely played into his hatred of his own appearance.

Please comfort the two about that, they desperately need lovin. But approve them differently.

Jon needs to be eased into it, it gets really overwhelming at times and he isn’t used to it, he needs you to be gentle, and slow.

Jerv on the other hand, no just give him all the love right away, and don’t ever stop. He reciprocates it all the way, returning your praises singing and giggling.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

#cas.txt #anonymous #ask #jervis tetch #jervis tetch x reader #ratter #ratter x reader #corpsecrow #Corpsecrow x reader #tnba jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #tnba scarecrow #tnba mad hatter #tnba #Tnba Jervis tetch #hattercrow x reader #the new batman adventures

[bananonbinary]

i hate this stupid website i keep getting we dont talk about bruno stuck my head but its just "7 foot frame, rats along his RATS. when he calls your RATS it all turns to RATS"

[anjuschiffer]

Do We Dare to Dream? - Chapter 4

...didn’t realize i didn’t post this before sleeping...I got work in like 6 hours...enjoy :D

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P.Tag: @toodaloo-kangaroo @vixen-uchiha @elijahcrevan

Tag: @hammalammadamdam

-

MASTERLIST | PREV | AO3

The invasion of the League’s headquarters quickly made Ra’s reconsider the security and loyalty of his men, Ra’s quickly worked to fix that issue…even if it meant killing every person who showed even the slightest bit of uncertainty.

As for Jason, after being dipped into the Lazarus Pit, he was put to work, being given his first solo mission in a long while.

“Meet Damian.” Talia introduced, Jason simply looking at the 7 year old boy staring back at him.  

He had seen the boy a few times, having always been ushered away whenever Damian would want to use the library or training grounds for his own. He was never allowed to interact with the boy…not that he would have cared if it weren’t for the reactions the others would have around them.

He would hear the murmurs and whispers that would follow when instructors would look at Damian and then at him. Stares that judged and compared Jason to Ra’s grandson…

Something was up, but he didn’t dare to try and figure it out. After all, he didn’t want to die again.

“I don’t trust him.” Damian told his mother as he started to fumble with the handle of his newly gifted dagger.

“Damian.” Talia warned, turning back to Jason. “For your next assignment, you are in charge of my son’s safety.”

”Safety?” Jason dared to ask, earning a glare from Ra’s. 

“You will be escorting him to his father’s place.” Talia finished, watching as Damian looked at her wide eyed.

His father?

“We will be providing transport up until you get to Gotham.” At that name, Jason felt his mind muddle. “From there on, you will go to this address. That is where you will find Damian’s father.”

Jason accepted the package Talia handed him, which judging by its weight, was probably filled with a letter and some currency. 

“Upon arriving there, you will keep a close eye on him until Talia or I come back to get him.” Ra’s clarified.

“Understood.” Jason said, accepting the assignment with no further questions, knowing what would happen should he ask any other question.

“You leave in an hour.” With that, Jason left to prepare to head to Gotham, with an odd feeling looming over his head and heart.

- 

“We should’ve already reached the bay by now.” Damian scolded, a deep scowl on his face. 

He fought the urge to tap his foot as he kept staring at Jason’s back. “Grandfather said-“

“I know what Ra’s said, brat.” Jason sneered, blocking a flying dart the brat threw at him as he got up. 

“Watch your to-“

“Save it.” Jason cut him off, throwing the dart over the cliff, holding himself back to stay as he took one last look at the boulder within his barracks, wrapping the red ribbon tighter on his wrist. 

A single narcissus bloomed near the edge of the boulder, Jason knowing how off it belonged within the walls of the League. The pure white flower swayed in the breeze, a ladybug perched on one of the petals. “I just wanted to say goodbye to-” Jason bit his tongue. “Let’s go.” 

With one last glance, Jason picked up his things, feeling himself dragging his feet as he left the place he had to call home for the past three years. 

Where he met her. 

See you on the other side, Marinette. 

-

“I thought you said you’ve never been here before.” Damian quipped, glancing at Jason before going back to trying to take off the tracker on his wrist.

Ever since they got dropped off at the airport, Jason took it upon himself to place a tracker on him. Or rather, strap it onto him. Something about preventing child trafficking or something along those lines. 

He didn’t need it. 

He was born and raised to be the perfect assassin. 

He didn’t need to be protected, nonetheless by this pitied orphan. 

The audacity of this street rat to-

“Shut it.” Jason warned, wondering if Damian always muttered or if it was a recent thing. Not that it mattered. 

He had bigger things to worry about. 

His mind had been going haywire at every street the bus turned since they set foot in Gotham. His guard was always up and would worsen as a person came into his field of view…which made him ponder about Damian’s statement. 

Has he ever been to Gotham before? As in…before Ra’s took him in? 

Even though Jason never remembered being in Gotham before, his body certainly did, taking control the moment they got there. As if it's been there before.

As if it remembered. 

Despite Ra’s clear instructions on what to take and how to get to Wayne Manor, Jason disregarded it and went his own way, which is how they boarded a bus to get across Gotham and got off the first stop after Queens Bridge. 

“You don’t expect me to walk the rest of the way, do you?” Damian asked him as they got off at the very first stop once out of the tunnel, pulling his hood over his head. 

After all, if Jason was covering himself up…there had to be a reason for it…

“I thought you said you were trained to be the perfect assassin. Is a bit of hiking too much for-“

“I’ve hiked longer treks than this city. Survived in numerous jungles filled with creatures that would tear the average man apart.” Damian scoffed. “This is nothing.”

“Then you better keep up.” Jason said, putting on the mask Ra’s gave him, tracking Damian as they headed to Wayne Manor. 

-

Jason woke up as soon as the first beam of sun rose from the horizon, causing him to grunt and turn to the other side, making sure to not shift too much. Once there was no escaping the rising sun, Jason sat up straight, his back leaning against the tree trunk as he stretched, the oversized sleeves of his jacket falling to his elbow.

It’s been a bit over a week since he got to Gotham and just a few days since Damian was safely snug inside Wayne Manor, although that didn’t relieve Jason from his duties. 

As instructed, Jason led Damian to Wayne Manor and once Damian was at the gate, Jason left him with nothing but the small bag that held his clothing and a letter of introduction Talia wrote for the boy.

Jason watched as Damian was welcomed with open arms, Jason feeling something in his stomach twist and turn when a sleek black car took Damian from the entrance to the heart of the Estate, to the manor itself. To a safe haven from the elements of the world.

A place where he was watched around the clock, where an elderly gentleman came to escort him to his meals, a place with a bed, with running warm water meaning nice warm baths and clothing that kept him warm and that perfectly fit him.

And that was only based on the amount of times Jason was able to peer into the room Damian was staying at. Because yes, he was well aware that other things happened past the door, but thanks to the distance between the two, Jason couldn’t exactly open up the curtains whenever Damian would close them up for privacy. 

Then again, Jason could care less to what happens to the brat as long as he was in one piece. He had other things to worry about, like his survival. 

While Damian was able to live the spoiled life he had in the League almost instantly, Jason had to sneak into the estate like a rat, hiding into the nearest thing in sight: a tree. 

A tree that luckily shielded him from the sun but didn’t exactly protect him from yesterday’s rain. A tree where he had almost fallen off of twice and which owls resided and watched him in the middle of the night. 

Their hooting last night almost caused him to have one for breakfast, but not having the necessary tools to successfully gut them prevented him from doing so. 

Hours passed by, the sun finally started to set, Jason deciding to move to a new tree with a denser canopy. 

After settling into a new tree, he grabbed some binoculars and peered into Damian’s room, watching the brat practicing his form with his katana before turning to where Jason was. 

“Creepy kid.” Jason muttered, taking out a few dried figs before taking his time savoring each bite. His stomach rumbled after he finished it, begging for another bite of the sweet fruit. But even if gave in to the demand, he found himself with only two more rations left and not knowing how long this supervision was to last, Jason needed to spread these two rations for at least three days until he could secure more food.

And knowing Damian and the little shit he was, Jason knew better than to rely on the kid for any food, meaning he had to find his own.

Perhaps he should raid the kitchen…

Of course, that meant having to risk leaving his post and essentially his duty, of prioritizing his life over his mission…

His mission…

Mission…

“It’s always for the mission, isn’t it, Bruce?” Jason caught himself saying, freezing once he processed those words.

Who was Bruce?

As if to answer his question, a man stepped into Damian’s room, a man Jason hadn’t seen until that day…a man who-

Jason groaned as his head began to throb, grasping at his chest as memories flooded his mind, Jason pathetically shutting his eyes tighter in hopes of getting rid of them. 

“This will be your new home Jason. And this will be your new room.”

“Why not? I heard waffles are a good way to start the day.”

“How would you like to enroll back into school?”

“Jason, we can’t keep eating burgers every night. Otherwise you won’t be able to develop a diverse palate.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never read Pride and Prejudice. Remind me to get you a copy from the library.”

“Jason, let’s go home.”

“Jason.” 

“Jaylad.”

“Jay.”

Bruce…the name of the man who adopted him…his name was Bruce…Bruce Wayne! But…he was also Damian’s father…

But…did he have a right to keep calling him his father?

Did he even know he was alive?

Jason could feel his chest churn at the questions that continued to plague his mind, the growling emerging from his stomach not helping one bit.  

His thoughts were finally snapped when he saw something move from the corner of his eyes.

There, on one of the manor’s skylights, a lone figure stood there, Jason grabbing his binoculars to get a better look at them.

He didn’t expect to see a person -who could easily be mistaken for a kid- to be standing on top of one of the most highly secured manors in all of Gotham. Wait…how were they standing there without tripping any alarms off?

Who were they?

The perpetrator was on the small side, wearing all black attire -save for the pink hoodie with detachable sleeves- and had pink pouches attached to their legs…

Out of the list he had to memorize from Ra’s about the groups and individuals who were his enemies, Jason couldn't pick out a single name to pin onto the person on the roof.

As he kept watching the person attempt to get into the manor, Jason caught a glimpse of their face…or at least where there was supposed to be a face.

A mask hid under the hood.

Something about their mask started to turn gears in his head...Jason wondering why their half black, half pink mask reminded him of-

“Deathstroke.” He found himself whispering. There was no way…

There was no way he already found them…he had made sure to make their traces were, well, untraceable…

But now that he has a theory, he couldn’t help but realize this person had to be working with Deathstroke of all people if their attire meant anything. While it was pink, it held a bit of resemblance to the one who caused Ra’s to send his heir to the manor.

And as if to read his mind and confirm his theory, he watched as a panel of the skylight was lifted up, Jason watching as the person turned over to his direction and gave him a peace sign below slipping into the manor with grace…

Seconds past until Jason realized what happened…

Without a second thought, he got off the tree and ran.

NEXT

#maribat #league of assassins au #jasonette

[unabashedmoonlight]

"7-foot frame, rats along his back

When he calls your name, it all fades to black

Yeah, he sees you dreams

And feasts on your screams"

Oh, Aleksander Morozova, you will always be famous.

#the darkling #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #grishaverse #crack

[honey-tongued-devil]

Can I request scenario 7, Stroking the other’s back comfortingly, from the hurt/comfort prompt list with Cassandra pls 👉👈

↞“Stroking the other’s back comfortingly”↠

▶ Cassandra Kiramman x 7. (Stroking the other’s back comfortingly)

Honey, there’s a gun in the footlocker in the garage. If I ever say “no” to that question, I want you to use it on me. Okay, I had to recalibrate a little bit to leave the fact that Cassandra is cheating on her husband unnoticed. I mean, nobles often marry for convenience, don’t they?

↠Word count: 1.2k ↠No use of "y/n", gender neutral reader (no pronouns for the reader) ↠List: hurt/comfort (n.7- stroking the other’s back comfortingly ) ↠Pairing: Cassandra x gn!reader ↠Tw: implied cheating

[I’m joining the challenge "one prompt per day" so feel free to send a request, it can be either with a prompt invented by you or a prompt taken from one of the two lists you find on the blog!]

↠If you have any requests, ask the devil.↞

You hate everything about that place.

You hate the way chandelier crystals project little flashes of light on the guests' faces, you hate the guests themselves who move around in that ballroom as if they’ve been there forever, you hate the way the music hovers in the room accompanying fake giggles and the clinking of the edge of the glasses, but most of all you hate those gazes.

Those eyes look haughtily at the world, judgmental, full of a poison so exquisite as to deceive anyone who becomes a victim of it they should feel honored; sticky, they cling to the skin following people step by step, waiting for any pretext and slightest mistake to rejoice -the dress being pounded and torn, an elbow hitting someone by mistake making a glass of crystal shatters to the ground, a foot leaning badly that makes you lose your balance for a few seconds, sometimes it only takes a grumbling of the stomach to entertain them, to notice in their eyes a bitter fun.

The night passes so slow when you cross the threshold of Galas that time itself does not seem to remain indifferent to the jewels and gold of the members of high society, subdued slows down, and the only way to survive becomes to swallow that luxurious amber liquid that flows like a river in the crystal glasses, hoping that the sun will hurry to rise.

You carelessly watch the liquor go round in circles along the walls of the glass firmly held between your fingers -you have lost count of how many you have drunk but it doesn’t matter, the silent rule is "enough not to hear what the voices in the room say, but less than it takes to crawl out of this place" and as long as it works you’re going to appeal to it.

Cassandra stands next to a table, talks to a young lad -another counselor if memory serves you right- and two tall men, whose bare muscles and scarlet clothes embellished with metal suggest that Noxus is their homeland.

You can’t tell if she is getting bored or not, her face is constantly adorned with a kind smile and from time to time she lifts a gloved hand to cover her lips, in a sign that she is laughing. 

Or, at least, she’s pretending to.

The councilman next to her looks at you, darting the corners of his lips down with a mixture of disgust and dissent, in the same way a peasant would look at the dirty rat that destroyed his crop, but you ignore him.

You mentally take note about telling the woman how much you admire her for having been able to resist the urge to punch that snooty gouge right between the eyes.

You drink what’s left in the glass in one sip and wait diligently a few moments before getting up, aware that the slightest awkward movement would not only bring attention to you, but would also put in a bad light the woman who brought you with her. Then, you head for the balcony and lean your elbows against the stone handrail, closing your eyes.

The fresh air deprives you of those suffocating expensive perfumes and inebriates your lungs: the city sleeps wrapped in the night’s mantle, in that peace given by the silence and the lights off that allow you to see the stars.

Who knows if the people in that room have ever raised their nose to the sky to look at it, if the eyes accustomed to gold recognize the wonder of what is not material, of what has no price, of beauty.

The silence is interrupted by the quiet sound of the low heels against the stone floor, accompanied by the rustle even lighter of the skirt that at every step caresses the legs of the woman: you smile, eyes still pointed towards the night.

"Are you tired?"

"I’m exhausted, Cassandra"

She stays quiet, approaching in turn the handrail but remaining composed unlike you: the straight back leans slightly against the white stone enough to rest without affecting her elegance. A hand of hers rests next to yours, in a silent invitation that you do not refuse, leaning your fingers on hers.

"The blond guy has been looking at me for so long that I thought he had facial paralysis to a certain one" you whisper pouting a bit and the woman ripples her lips holding back an amused sound.

"Salo?"

"Yeah, I’m sure you understood. I don’t like it here, I feel out of place."

This time your voice is more sad than annoyed and you almost regret having spoken.

You know that she took you with her because that’s the environment she’s used to, that she wanted to make you feel included, but at the same time you’ve never felt more trapped than that.

Her hand moves just enough to take yours between her fingers, stroking the back with her thumb in a silent gesture of comfort. You really want to be somewhere else, any little corner of the world where no one perceives you would be fine, where you can hold her hand properly and pull her to yourself, and she can laugh without hiding that lovely gap between her teeth that you love so much.

But unfortunately you are there.

The shrill laughter reaches you to the balcony, making your skin crawl in an imperceptible gesture that doesn’t escape the watchful eyes of the woman. She lets go of your hand turning her back to high society, then a gentle touch caresses your back, covering an invisible path from your lower back to the shoulders and vice-versa. "I’m here," is the simple but powerful sentence implied by her fingers going up discreetly until they touch your neck, hesitating when you tilt your head to the side to give her more space.

You see her just biting her lips with the corner of your eye, in a torn expression that does not fail to make your lips stretch in a victorious smile.

"Let’s go, Cass." It’s not a question, you’re not going to spend another second there. She sighs in response.

The violins are suffocated by the chanting, perhaps high-pitched voices of Piltover’s aristocracy. Someone yells at a waiter, a glass falls to the ground breaking and emitting a deaf sound of shattered crystal that accompanies the dramatic, exaggerated verses of dismay.

You hate everything about that place. 

You hate the way people break glassware into unnecessary drama, you hate the way everyone in that room shifts their attention to the same thing at the same time, like a flock of sheep with glittering crowns and rings.

You fucking hate everything.

But not her.

She hesitates, glances at the ballroom, passes her tongue between her lips, thoughtful.

"I can’t, I have to stay with the other members of the council. And you know that..." You snap up before she can finish the sentence, taking advantage of the fact that everyone is distracted to steal a quick kiss, on top of her lips.

You hold firmly her hand, aware that if you want to escape undisturbed you must do so now."Let’s go to my place then."

#cassandra x reader #cassandra kiramman #arcane #cassandra kiramman x reader #cassandra headcanon #arcane writing #arcane headcanon

[silens-oro]

Mish, I don't want to rush you for an update of Spoils of War. SO! in the meantime would you maybe..................give us a crumb of what lays in store? I am frothing at the mouth in anticipation

I feel like I'm feeding seagulls any time someone asks for a snippet lmao. Since it has taken so long to get Ch. 7 out, here is a sneak peek:

Content warning: death, descriptions of decay, aemond.

Spoils of War Masterlist

A putrid smell hit Aemond’s nostrils as he stepped down the staircase leading to the dungeon. It smelled of death and decay, and was absolutely unmistakable. A stone catapulted to the pit of his stomach, the dread that seeped through him was enough to make him sick if the smell alone didn’t. 

Aemond had been absent for the last week due to princely duties as his grandsire called them. They were nothing more than to show the might of Vhagar to those who toed the line of support to the Green’s cause and what should befall onto their houses should they sway their support to the Black's cause. Duty was duty, nonetheless, but Aemond could not return to you quick enough. 

The first thought he had as he entered the dungeon was that you had perished, by your own hand most likely. His Shadow, as she had done in his absences previous, was supposed to check in on you nightly. By the smell, the decay was days along. His Shadow probably feared what he would do should he find out his beloved had accomplished what he tried to prevent. She was right, of course. No death would be quick enough for her, and he would find her -he promised himself. He’d skin the little wretch alive with his bare hands when he caught her. 

Aemond kept his torch in front of himself to illuminate the still darkness. A squelching noise was the first sound to meet his keen ears. It was faint, but present. He brought the sleeve of his coat to his nose to alleviate some of the stench that permeated the air. It was sickly sweet and rancid with a copper tinge to it that turned his stomach. His feet moved quickly over the dusty floor to reach your cell.

Aemond’s eyes saw that the door to the cell was ajar before the rest of the cell came into view. His heart pounded as he stopped at the foot of it. A body, swarmed with rats, was on the floor. Dark, clotting blood surrounded it as the rats munched at what was left of the soft tissue of the person’s legs and innards. The face was covered by your wool blanket, seemingly untouched by the vermin.

As Aemond crouched down with the torch, the rats scurried in all directions, but a rat with a stump for a paw stood in the furthest corner, watching his every move. 

Aemond quickly tossed the blanket from the body and relief immediately filled him when he saw dark hair in place of Targaryen silver, but was quickly replaced by rage and anxiety. He stood swiftly, kicking the dirty blanket to the side.

“Idiot girl!” He seethed at the body, breathing heavily. 

A hand ran down his face as he glared down at the decaying body of his Shadow with absolute hatred filling his eye. His angular mouth was set in a sneer at the reality that was facing him. So many thoughts and questions swirled through his mind as he tried to piece together what had happened. How did you lure his Shadow into the cell? How did you break free? How did you escape from the dungeon without being seen? 

Aemond’s eyes caught sight of your open shackles and the single key that lay discarded on the ground next to them. His eye narrowed and he looked down at the girl once more. He could see bloody slits in the girl’s shirt where the rats hadn’t chewed through yet. 

You had a weapon, he thought. You did not escape on your own. 

The next thought he had was what would happen if you made it out of King’s Landing. Surely you’d return to Dragonstone -back to your father. Ravens would surely descend up the Red Keep, alerting his mother of what he had done. That the Princess was alive and had been alive this whole time, kept right under his family's noses. Whatever her reaction would be, his grandsire’s would surely be thrice as bad. 

The tendrils of madness scratched at the far corners of his mind as he tried to think five steps ahead. 

If he had stolen you once, he would assuredly be able to do it again. You were his, after all.

#spoils of war fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader #x reader #ask